poet, or philosopher, it doesn't really matter which is which, or whether the two are indistinguishable, notable in the former scenario, when someone has an eclectic bounty of interest is simply not love-scorned or love-nostalgic, love-idealistic, does it really matter? i was once called a philosopher: a teenage girl said in third person (as if she was a puppet and some-thing was moving her tongue): 'talk to this philosopher'... not in that sarcastic way that philosopher is an misnomer or an abused term of: self-gratifying grandeour, it was quiet genuine, but: imagine my shock... i had an ambition in life, it was to perform a service to thinking: without doing as much as hammering a nail into a plank of wood, that's the ambition of any thinking man: to borderline on telekinesis or telepathy... that was Hegel's modus operandi, his categorical imperative... after all: ego is a metaphysical tool, while thought is its metaphysical canvas... the mere suggestion that a copernican inversion can happen in physics "contra" metaphysics... it's already apparent, any word can behave like a hand touching the sacred object / subject of transfiguration and become something else, even a misnomer can find itself given solace to the user... for now i've forged a belief in the ultimate: away from the absolute in relation to omni in unum - one first has to learn to think, before having to learn to feel... mind you, i don't like the current nietzschean inversion of the cartesian equation: (ego) sum ergo (ego) cogito... esp. among the youtube political commentators, too many examples to give: i'm a classical liberal, i'm a progressive, i'm a liberterian... i don't really like seeing: i am, precede i think... i don't even like the origin-argument of this inversion: i exist for the sole purpose of thinking... after all: i think prior to being, since i can also daydream and not be what my thinking suspects as a possible truth-outcome... that's the nature of the freedom of thought: i don't have to be what i think, i can find thinking to be a pleasure, when the senses do not offer me any pleasure derivative, e.g. eating can sometimes be boring, chewing, chewing, *******... i eat because i need to live: i don't live to eat... i really have under-appreciated Hegel, i should really visit my grandparents for two months and read the phenomenology of the spirit: i'm trying to replicate the saying attributed to him (verbatim), but i doubt that i will, i don't have the patience to sift through all the quotes, but it goes along the lines of: beware oh wordly man, to not be a pawn in a thinking man's game... hence my suggestion of philosophy entering into the realms of telekinesis and telepathy: you get to see things play out and people express the origin story, of your own memetic generation of the original idea... how are poets finally alligned to philosophers? good thing that i studied chemistry at edinburgh university: we return to atoms, words are no longer enough, sure, they are, contrary to the statement...  (why did i under-appreciate Hegel? ah... had my head stuck up heidegger's and kant's *****...

  integration? great!
but i'll meet you halfway...
    i'll eat your fish & chips,
your englush breakfast,
  i won't sing your anthem: god save the queen,
****** anthem, too short,
but i will whistle through:
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
like i might through la marseillaise...
i'll meet you halfway...
i'm not a former colony member,
commonwealth,
   i'm not some ****- paying bribes
to the british powers
to join in on a world cup of cricket...
this is what happens when immigration
turns sour...
they either lesrn the host tongue,
or they don't learn it...
or they can't distinguish the two:
speak polonaise at home,
speak the hosts' sprechen outside of it...

   if the ******* aren't suspect:
by not being bilingual...
the arab beatles... jihadi john...
          ringo star h'ahmed...
  george ali...
                paul mecca rashid...
oh i'll settle for integration...
but don't you ******* think i'll give
up my mother tongue
for "c.c.t.v." close-ups back home,
home being my private lodge...
like ******* will...
  i'll speak your tongue in public...
but i'm not ******* former commonwealth
****- riddled with a need to play
cricket, "forget" my tongue in order
to compensate for olives
              and sun-burnt bananas!

a former colony ****-**** is about
to dictate the rules for fellow
europeans, on the tram-ride from
Birmingham to Nottingham?
seriously?
        but of course the englishman
will favor the former colony pet bush-monkey
from sri lanka...
since the brit can't really dictate
to a fellow european his superiority
complex... which he can...
with a petted copper skinned
toy-ting...
who brought 'im a korma curry!
nice one, ol' laddy...
        right on the plonker...
                 i'm not finished!
                        i'm just getting started!

gehirnablassen:

perfectly respected immigration,
given that so many english girls just love
the attention their **** minders,
sexually abused,
not really making it as nurses
or... ahem... karaoke superstars
worth the while of britain's got talent
or voice of britain,
or...whatever the ****** show was
that gave birth to one direction...

so a.... brain-drain? good immigration?
the best!

i can sit awhile by myself and count...
1. the sparrows,
2. the swallow,
3. the starlings,
   4. the crows,
5. the magpies,
6. the pigeons,
7. the woodland pigeons
(fatter, with dog collars),
8. kestrels
  (one is enough to begin
the count)...
9. the blackbirds....
10. seagulls... seagulls?! 25 miles from
romford to southend! seagulls?!
this far in-land?! fair enough...
11. a robin...
                   12. goldfinch...
i just sit and watch these birds
in my garden, i sometimes spot
a darting frog in the garden,
i'm more english than the english...
i actually enjoy owning a garden...
the "english" surrounding me
exemplify a bbq. as a luxury parade...
what's so luxury about marinating
some meat, and then grilling it?!
please! enlightend me!

    gehirnablassen...
                   brain-drain immigration,
the type asiatic tiger-mums brag about
at child olympics...
   for the required rubric stature...
******* mothers, basically...

1. χaron χaos - cha-cha-cha       khaos
2. theaetetus - so / ma   letters / syllables:
     graphemes: sz phi theta
      compound syllables (caron s) - Na (sodium)
3. music choice...
       brain damage perturbator ft. noir deco
    virga iesse floruit, gradual of eleanor of
britanny...
4. pride / stubborness (not equal to) honour,
tolerating islam is not the same
as respceting islam...
   german 19th century fascination
with islam...
     θought and φilosophy...
   greek in warsaw, giving him directions,
talks: sounds so much like spanish...
5. england a nation of singletons,
idiosyncracy... social pressures in poland
and even in h'america missing in england
to marry...

1.

chamaleon tongue,                    shape shifter,
bez akcentu w piśmie - więciej akcentu poza pismem
(trainspotting scottish), welsh, cockney,
east london altogether, pakistani english, etc.
e.g. rather, or raver, i.e. not rayver
(someone who parties at night on ecstasy pill)
but ra'ver, like verging on a new discovery,
it's not even the = ~v but is actually v...
english is a chamaleon tongue, you say 'nostic
when you write gnostic, i say diagnostic,
therefore say gnostic, you say 'nome, i say gnome,
as cf. with diagnostic;
then there's the case of the per se:
you say chamaleon - no kappa there apperent, eh?
but there's chappie, chap, chuckles,
no kappa in a millionth chance
to also say nough'ledge for knowledge,
a bit like that gnome of yours...
as i said before: a language without
a written insertion of stressors / distinctions
will produce a massive array of diacritical
stressors / distinctions outside the written format,
but it will also become as complex as to
allow adults with learning difficulties e.g. dyslexia,
and that horrid internet slang of shortcuts:
i ate my 8 when i was late for my disco date
with the cha cha cha melon.

p.s. if there's a hay patch at the beginning, the nasal flute
will ask larry 'the lynx' saxophone to hark it out with rasp
gritting of phlegm... but if it's somewhere else down
the piccadilly line... it will act like a nudist spy and resonate
less than expected; probably mingling with f, i think.

Aniu,

dostałem słuchy na temat grafiki - nie jestem Surrealist'ą z poprzedniego wieku (tzn. dwudziestego), to już mineło... może i też miałbym pozory sfobody by skrytką zza popularną sztuką miałbym brać jakiegoś malarza na front jak by to było wydanie Ortodoksji zwane Penguin Publishing House, ale wolałbym mieć pod uwage geneze, tzn. kompromis braku koloru i tą nadrentą komplikacje modernizacji na tle "programming" szyfrem komputera - a ten kompromis? szyfr chemika... wiem że to może brzmić zbyt contra idei ładnego obrazka czy tez ikonoklazm'u wedle sukcesu sprzedarzy książki - ale jak orginał to orginał, bez kiszeczki, bo kto tak naprawde chce pokazać tważ niechaj pokarze ją niż maske pierw - wiec myśle o notatkach z sfer chemii w goły-trakt poezji. przesyłam jeden przykład, trzymam notatki inne takrze gotowe, ale to jeden przykład; nie chce sie chować pod skórą innych artystycznych wybryków - szczegółowo poza gruntem orginału pisma jako malunek pierw, a pismo po (ksiązka to nie Boeing 747: obraz pierw a dzwięk po - tzn. dzwięk pierw, a obraz po) - a więc i też skreślam zaufanie co do piękna malowidła jako przeciw tego samego niby ambasador'a dającego ochrone pod tytułem: brzydastwo wiersza konieczne; wole by jedno z drugim miało zaufanie, czy też wpomnienie obojga na począt i na koniec:  na trasie wątpień i zarysów warte twarzy w publicznym miejscu poza oh ah ah oh galerii. a więc zakończe - inne e.g. prześle jutro - ten jako prolog w temacie: o co mi chodzi.

Mateusz.

p.s. oczywiście ominołem ę czasem, lecz jest zachowane w przykładach głębin - ale to nazwe proto-ortografia Polaka poza Polską, takie potrzebne lustro w Angielskim 's - czyli liczby mnogej co nawet tłumacz by powiedział: sprechen Deutsche?

Matko,
czemuż liść rajskiej jabłoni,
poczuł dotyk Twej dłoni?

... A wybór ten się ziścił?
To śnięcie, podszept liści...

Czy twa cierń była nader ostra?
Ma najdroższa,
Mater Nostra

... Dnia twego dziękczynienie,
nie miało oka tchnienie...

gdy znosiłaś krwiożercze znoje,
by ochronić
dziatki Twoje.

... Za Szeolem, bez pudru
lecz z chlubą łez nagości...

Twe serce 
zmrożone w kajdany,
nie okazało miłości.

... Tak, tych palców spostrzeżeń
u męża nań spuszczonych...

Iżby stworzyć koncepcję 
plemienia,cykl
niezwykle strudzony.

...Zbluzganiem, uwielbianiem,
Jest Ewą i Allahem...

Aby poczciwość dać rodzinie,
ciągle żyję
pod tym strachem.
Osobą jam nie znana,
Raczej funkcją, zadaniem
Jestem matką,
a moja profesja,
jest rodziny kochaniem.

„Od nigdy a po zawsze,
Byt, nie przeminę z wiatrem.

W honorze. W trawie. W mężczyźnie. Ostanę.”

d'harga'h! urn! and sung clemency with the sign of the cross - Mr. Longinus - a baptism awaits...

in the Turkish shop buying my beers -
politics talk, gone Razza - Tahir -
talk of politics - deciphered a word:
Erdoğan (Erdoghan, Edrogrzan,
what was it - macabre radish to taste -
niechmaj sto Vlad'a reka na tle kiwnieniem  raz!
i krok poza 'sztem! bogiem byka wybryk
szto?! - the crowds descended, and the kestrels
and the pigeons, and the swans,
and the migratory storks, and the seagulls -
for the Winged-Hussar Polonaise.
fluff of the wings -
                                   the Mongol stench
reinterpreted - i rather be picking
ethnic mushrooms - kropki polka -
and koniewki - łopieniek & canary -
grünling in German, gąska zielonka - Pan Kleks -
or Chanterelle Mushroom - pepper shakerz -
kurki, tzn. te słynne grzyby.
the deviating *kurka - or chickpea foetal
variant of fungus - or alias chick.
each time they pithy my assertion to claim the
ethnic brothel of Europe that Poland is for
the noble families - each time they undermine
the worker testifying the ****-worthy ****
prior sleep - pride settles in -
and a long forgotten assertive builds up
to architectural proportions -
it just ends up being a game of throwing
copper coins into Scotland, potatoes into Ireland...
and dinosaur bones into Wales...
and post-colonial subjects into England, lazily
packed with the labels **** and Hindu;
Karzimierz Dębski could have said: it was never
supposed to come to this; shame that it did;
the safety option was exacted.

i tyle, reszta na coin flip
twoich ambicji;
mam, po, prostu (nie mazowieckie czy kieleckie)
               kichaniem dosyć!
syty jam i z prostatą oddany w mgle pychy;
ja serw memu mieniu i ozora
(tej trzeciej krwi krowy)
                                                          ­   poeta!
do końca wasz iglak wczorajszej wigilii
(zmień to a zmienisz czasowność):
rada memu panie... więcej narodu czy tem
racji czy tem dumy czy tem innego stanowiska
na głąbie poza polską ja racze;
ja racze! wilka gniew nad lud!
z resztą, okiem morsa fabryk na tle miganiu
to tylko nic! a mój brat kim?! obcy mocar?!
nie! nie, nie ja ludwig rus czy pruss, niet ich!
oj naród a ja jako atlas, wraz z izraelem,
a ty jako kompas, a warszawa jako kamień tonie
w wodzie hystorji wraz z napoleonem,
a więć kraków raz jeszcze wstanie wraz z mongołem;
tylko anglia może oddalać dume swego rodu
sama mniej dumna swego początku w niemczech.

i'll write my german like my father soap operas his english, mangled, and disturbed... i mean grossly misjudged.. i mean like: did anyone really understand him? they must have since he now has a house... but then i was too lazy to begin with... which is nice, to begin with... i mean: that nice: clap clap... clap clap... all i need is a hope for encore... it's Borat pseudo Kazakh nice... i mean, i can speak the most perfect assimilation tongue for my host nation and end up on the street... just like i might become the ****** argument in germany... where i actually left my docier... now i love to write a bit of dangling ******* in german, dunno, maybe the pole in me felt like it... thankfully no knows jackshit about Polish history, or Mongolian history after Genghis Khan, therefore i'm not prone to a phobia of repeating historical demands! i mean: who the **** remembers John Casimir in the anglophone world?! umm... no one?! hurrah! we get the blond penguin tuxedo quiff juggernaut into power... but allah'u akbar... it wasn't the playboys of Dubai!

nein!
du kann nicht eine
  zivilisiert brutus,
mit verschwendenvolk
führ hyänewirbeln....
ja... art sortieren kindsouffle
wie mehrsaga...
   hinweis papa-pauß?
deine ein sauer antlitz...
ein fuchs-hyäne: herablassend,
trocken- nordpol otto theodor,
                 ein! sú!

i basically write the broken limb tongue my father speaks
on a construction site...
          i mean he speaks out of time, and sometimes
out of place...
   and every time i write his invoice i am
left heart relieved, had i a romance: i've be broken.
                        but the funny thing is,
i write this ******* and i can't even own a coffee machine
having said it...
             he speaks pish-boor english and gets a house,
a t.v. and a car....
      i write this perfect assimilate english and get
a postcard from australia: thanks, move here.
                   i'd hate to imitate the jew and turn to be
a nomad...
               but globalisation evidently demands that of me...
   it just gets boring after a while,
with all these needs and Neds trying to compete,
i just want to end up failing with fireworks...
become god at the age of 33...
                     and **** the rest of it if i should live
to be 66...
                        ah, come on man,
show some veterinary bias...
            some cult, some basis and futurism without
a regressive attitude... give the dauch the scoop...
and the lady her pooch pouch of vogue!
                  ah, then you're like me
talking german, like my father talking english...
perfectly... via fuchs-hyäne: perfect to the laugh
defining night; or licken-icken:
          für deutsche! über alles: für deutsche!
do brody, byczo jest! und nichts est!
               nienen warschau mitteklasse!
schwarz zirkusegen schatten: krächzen!
                pirdolony or-zełek twy... hujnia i motywa
      na badziewie.... mówi: matka... a potym... kórwa.
ha ha ha ha ha ha!
a po co ty i ten cymbał azjatyk? ten czambo kazak
i  pierdolony cynamon?! huh?!
po jebaną plombe, kasztan, mogiła, figa i pflaume
            i śliwowice?!
Liban na odzew reszty oliwek?! pospolity ruch?
   wnikąt rzeszy! masz! masz marsz kurwa na stambuł po wnót!
Sobieski Sobieksi i na głowie szambo!
te pizdy znów ci zawrót i chęć i nadzieją dały z
          genezą na coś by początek nie smiały miał być?
   ale tak naprawde nie tu... rogiem of warszawe roku '44...
bo wszystkich zycek wybito gazem,
gina musztardowym *smrodem... senfstinken...
                    furzschreiten...
to wtedy tak naprawde to:
tak naprawde poza Warszawą to powstanie do głuchych
          oślą mową wzdycha wzbogaceniem zdobytą
                                 psim sumieniem i czekam na zdobycz
            to zwane honor i państwo... czyli
wszystko braku na uniwerku... póki braku ideału...
no ta... cerkwiew Piłsudskiego! ach ten wąs! niby Stalin!
ale brak tego romantyzmu z nad Litwy!
co ma ten sławny wąs z pod Gruzji!
już mi miód w portkach!
       na ten twój! w ochote i zamiar tchuża i
                             żacier w mgłe i proch!
jak i w papier i piasta mrok w paproć o zacier modlitw
                         i czarów!
       kłam ty oczekiwań mioteł i motyli takich fabryk
których... kochasz...  
oj oj... wmojym gardle hydra!...
                 na tyle narodów ile da sie pokrewni nadrobić
brata i siory... tak, dam te wojenke...by tańczył mi kozak!
a o tobie wspominał mnie jakiś tajny Romon zwany Wład,
Piłat ******!
             ksywa: wampir... nie wiem...
sporo drwena na maczugi... ale nie wiem po co on chciał
  tak na ostrzyć jak na ołówki... w dupy macać?

chór! i duch!
               blady... rym...
ale i też wygoda powrotu
jako niby żyd... bo
te paluski... i ten *lajkonik...
kiev w warszawie... na
tym tle: bo to gwar gadania
i autobus w pizdzie nocy i
zimy... ceka... ceka.

   o bodziem...
  punk kot w czekam
i czoło i glebe i rys islamu,
   i szkło skalu w czaszke
i gołote... i ten... pierdolony kosciół!
goły... naked...
         the cat weighs about 10 kilograms
i'm obviously going to head-**** him
to say good morning...

rrrrrryb ah! koscioł! groto i smród!
rekąpis!                   ryba! flu flu flu!
oj tu: pingwin sie zgina! huj! bra!
   tu! zeżre te polsche... te polsche...
zerwie z nią... bo co?
jakie narodziny mam, "celebrować"?
ja na typ o motłoch? baba?!
taki typ by na miet i slóp -czysłav?!
pats! prostak z... miasta...
  chleba mało... tsa zebrać...
seplień seplień se o se: nago
      i choroba... gniew... grób;
padaj! jak gwóźdz w trumne
czy tam gówno w toalete...
       tsa u... tu com sa, tam com sa...
ja na wygnań!
        ja wygnany, co mi te poloki?
półtłoki? boli, nie? zyh poza granicą,
tam, dam ci kwit i... kćuka!
                 kćuka! na witaj huju!
potem -senką: za casów Herod'a...
  co sfe: pio... senką; taki tanz: oi! ola ola o!

taki zemnie polok, jaki ten
pierw żyd, co pyta:
  
  pytam... bo czekam...

(choir and [the] ghost).

    warto pytać, oto wiem że o nic nie czekam
(nie czekam o nic... po? nie czekam o nic...
po prostu czekam; tak tak, nic nici nić nitka nikt;
kurvfa shoelaces... you ******* deaf
or watching kochaj albo rzuć?       );
tym warte pytać of -zyk-
kiedy nie w... kraju...  or-zelek... or-zelek...
              taki kwaśniewski co tylko sepleni...
blah blah blah... potem na gniew
vay vest vey kal it a p-cle... susumber: or cueue...
         oi oi! wrona! hej! wrona!              co tam?!
eh, ten rojs siber tesz popierdolony...
rrrrreeee lee, wrona! co tam?
o kurva... terz troche... mmm uhum... mm... eh?
   is bez powrotu... taki... niby...
dobry fason i wybór słów
    jako dobry wójek... po glebie jak po
grzbiecie psa...
ah ten pysk.... taki dobry pies
mógł być, a potem, nagle, naturalnie:
wściek! pyska... harem! harem!
         harem! grypa! grypa! ugh!
                                golem!
    co tam wyrośnie, to tam nigdy nie było...
ani cebula co płacze, ani
           burak któremu zęby
   wypadają...
      oś? czy... osa? i z tym językiem
bez tego języka gwarancji?
            taki jam obcy...
   ja nawet obcy gadać obcym... do perfekcji...
jaki to musi być nud... aby było
              jak to musi być, skoro jest?
    last time i checked... pretty **** awful.

given the title?                       a history.
                 you simply don't get it,
you don't get a focal point,
   instead of the hejnał mariacki
i get: the beatles...  included in the exodus package....
or the: when will immigrants be deemed expatriots?
now, never, soon?! host nations
forget that immigrants have a host nation
to remind people of: at least given the lingo...
but then local people repel it:
given the Anglos: it's a best kept secret in
Rotherham... because that's how we like it...
see? we English: two-faced politeness...
  all ****-based in Ibiza... or dare say otherwise...
we like the carry-ons... said:
you say, where we were naughty...
             keep it as you are
you'll eventually remind me of nothing...
   that's worse than a hangover...
you''ll literally remind me of nothing,
perhaps Netwton, but mostly Cockney
inspired ****... i just made half of keeping
Oxford...
             yes, you with Roman and Viking
history, i can't speak a history of Mongol
invasian, or the qusi-vikings akin to Swedes,
and then the Turks...
******* islelanders...
       as the French always said:
you not into ******?
               **** it! let's sell it anyway!
  about as gravity prone to tell a difference
between a rock and a mountain...
watch which one sink further into quicksand...
what you don't get with your d.n.a.:
a history...
what you don't get with your d.n.a.:
no pretty face will be able to repeat it...
you don't get to reach for a history...
            you don't get to claim Maine
of the u.s.a., you have to come back,
back via little england...
     you first have to craft a reply
counter the ιρη and the σκωτ,
no poly
- if britain is outside of europe:
i'll bring europe to britain -
i'll ensure there's the mandible bone's worth
in it jamming its jaw...
  just so it can chew: and later lap up
a history basis...
      call it a Yugoslavia mm,
or murmur... or something akin...
                i know of the snow surrounding
Belgrade...
                     ι / i / ε / +
             -ρη        catch a breath: -re
  i.r.a. to the malconcent,
well, it's a chessboard: either you're pawn
or no pawn at all...
            i get more english in england
than irish in england,
    i never hear scoot in anglo-shire...
not once, not ever...
              the irish belong in american
urban folklore, or unless nibbling on
the Poznań crown of tatties...
  oh... look at ye / v... cosmopolitan self...
mighty proud i am of ye / v..    
    wiepszo-wą...                 ...tek
                ten.. pierdolony... pyr!
Poznański pyr... to gówno i mowa równikiem:
sroka!
        o kurwa ó ó...  sedament:
   i to zwane cegłą.... wielkopolski huj:
schwaben herz!        pyr! daj mi boże wojne
domową wedle testamentu Syrii...
bo ja gnije w nadzieji żem nadaramene wygnany!
    wielko-huja-warty-*******...
pyr... ziemniok... wielko-łaski "hrabia"
    einzbach! ten: poznański "rebel"
  pseudo des esseintes...
   generically know as merely: pyr...
  wkrocze w cheć Warszawy na nowo:
a poza tym? angielska róż może zgnić
w makijarz. tyle.... o o.... tyle...
kopytka i klątwy... śląskie glizdy: czy klusy...
      czyli poznański szlachto-łez-odziedziczony...
            "pan"...
nadal tylko kurwa pyr dla mnie!
no, kurwa, kochaj mnie!
        tak abym nie pisał tym ozorem... zza granicą!
czyli bez ł i paciora, a jednak tyle co chodzi o tau.
i never have to answer my host nation,
i never had to... it's the nation that gave
the care to give Chopin's heart a tomb in Wawel...
         as the perpetual home:
   cheap racist ignitions don't make me really
****- sensitive concerning English don't and do not
slang translation...
   i'm worried about my mother incubator,
    and yes, that's ****- i.e. don't and
pakistani i.e. do not...
                        well... there's bound to be a gensis
at some point... it doesn't necessarily
have to be koranic...
given the saudis are so ******* lazy in their
inheritence of sitting on what the islamic
world calls *schwarz gœlt.

ty czyń mi co polak polaku... a nie ten skórwosić bólo-błąg łamania oczy-dam mattce i reszte pśym-ganagu! ty z zapomnienia by teś powiedzi łamane goobye: ja ci kurwa krewnym? ja ci kurwa krewnym?! spirdalaj tam gdzie cie mongoł łaskocze czołem wyrytym ambicją modłu wersją w dywan; lachu'hu'ju! albo to, albo kurwa: Wieden.... ja nie tobie krewny! o! patsy! polska slachta sie obudza! chyba cas na: sejmik... tak, pospolicie mówie... bez akcentu: po wiejsku! czy tam szwinsku! krew we mnie zastygła: płynie jeno rtęć... ja sam putin kiedy wabie polskie media poza exodus w anglii, na swojskim gnoju.*

słów wedle ognia ojca
na czyn ten
          zapomnieć
   wtargwienie...
                   skupą u dna..
bez dnia...
nie ty jeden ubity
         oddechu martwy i
      warty braku łzu:
                krokiem kruka:
nie tyś ostatni wichrem na tylko:
                   by zaznać gnatom łomonym,
a wtór! kałczugą łamany, to co:
śmierdzi opałem, i piwniccą!
bodaj jutro, i chybył: rodzaj zza
       kwestją powiat...
     bo to ci gniew: bogiem zgra
            rękąpis wątek bydła,
ku wnet liczidłem w słowo....
    nadać iskr: szumu mieniem wiatr,
martwa skorupa oddechu da,
co o myśl wątku wyda tchłu: wakacyjna gwardia
    czołem i kolanem w pacierz,
zbyt, nabity, i tym, wymuszony;
           skragi: ostatek.

jak biały album Beatelsów...
grafika? białe tło... i tytół
Πoετιc Oπτoμεtρy
i autor: Mateusz Conrad -
nic poza tym.. nic!
                                   plansza: biel

tytół : Πoετιc Oπτoμεtρy
                     autor:
                               matuesz conrad.

mam dość, czekam na ten ostatni żart
i moją śmierć.

like i said being pointlessly integrated in an English society,
the Beatles' White Album:

Πoετιc Oπτoμεtρy,

                      white background
author's name: Matthew Conrad.

Kind regards...
                          whatever.

pierdole, jade do Turka, bo inaczej ni-ma rady: pospolicie, czyli na pszysięge: klnąć! nad to:  ścisk ‘zora, o! tyle! gleba!  ścisk - tym ‘zorem siekać, i u-ci-sss-kać! no to dopić: pod ten brak  šatana - tego Ukrainskiego atamana - brak mu ręki - bo na ścisk - jak to mówie: cisza - szmer i śmiech! a to wiadomo czemu tak auto-matem iota ma główke - czemu nie ćιsza, jeno cisza? a no, dla tego! ja nie prosie by tak prosić na gotowe! a tu wysłane! cygan z dywanem perskim, a i tak nie wygoda! bo czemu kropka nad ι‘otą? a bo sie czyta Spinoze i sie pyta: nad literami grawituje tym pytaniem. - to też znaczy: poza lewą nie wie co prawa ręka robi - bo to oczy czytem jedno, a zór lepi drugie - kto by domyślił sie inno turkie ğ to jak ‘glika ha, ha gag - ab surd! grav’ niet kā’ron! bo i tak: śmierć metafizyki jest nowo-narodzonym szczylem (ščylem) ortografii - czyli dwa razy po krótkie i - jakby jota - głucho puste widzi-mi-sie (brakujący ogon, czytem: diabł ma rogi - a zatem: pytń  o ‘gon... jom ci pszepisze Ajrysza Finnegans Wake, tym bogatszy, a przy tym powiem: pierwsza cegła pod ten mur: al-buraq - czyli ten burak - czyli, die rotebeetemauer - jebaniec poniemiecki, jeszcze mu mało pożyczonych słowików... cirp ci kuźwa dam’nom, bedzie bi-da! bi-da! kozmopolitan tylko górali i szkocki akcent bawi na lublu... to cie kurwa zabawi, prędzej dziób pingwina skryje sie w moim łokciu, jak i dąb na tle mojej dłoni! pije, pali, konia wali... w imie ojca i syna, i duchownictwa szarańczy. post / pre scriptum: wolno myślący człowiek nie ma teorii ego, jeno mape, nie algebre o ten niedosyt znaka X - dawym imie - dycha! co pincet znaczeń, dycha! nie nie, aby podpis analfabety - tzn. X i ego, ** i superego, *** i id - tzn. to tamto, owanto. wu czy u - czy wiem i nie wiem, czy: kiedy piszesz i wydalasz cieć klaustrofobii - czyli: chłopie nie pisz jak plotnik fobii jesteś - ad abstractum - od nowa: Zyd na Gestapo - pewnikiem nie żaden: Brzeczyszczykiewicz - schusza - jakby odwrót: syty - szyschkami - šon - ko-kurwa-konery! jebudjed; budujem? da da... ja ni kocham tybi ty ni koi me. a to co? działa NA-WA-RO-NE-SO-LA-TI-DO. ponownie - sprość: ğnome - ğnostic - cisza nad gje.*

i to prawda,
   ta Grecja...
       kołyska zachodniej
cywilizacji -
   tzn. bahory,
      młode gówna:
   kakaшki -
lecz! Virgil i co Turek dobrze
wie... Grecja? nuda
i szambo murmur
w Edenie pirackim zwanym
Loon-dyn...
       bo ci powiem co ci powiem
a ci powiem jak Zagłoba -
   tym bardziej kochać
jak czerni syn w pieśń nad góry ‘niem:
   Bo-***! mój to ulubieniec.
           pisz wiersz ‘ciupki -
maciupki paniczku -
   pisz wiersz po każdej
książce...
              a co w Polsce?
meandry uczuć!
   tak, tak, z babcią ci powiem
nie o Greckiej piekności -
powiem ci o Turkeckiej -
    - co, za... SIKSA!
- i sam bym głowe w ogniste dupsko
diabła wsadził po modłach przed
ołtarzem nie jednej iskry Aten
                          blednącej -
   w tamtą strone jedzie w czern
ubrana żałobą piękna -
w pół kroi sie Ukraina i Grecja...
a tam, tam w post scriptum
Byzantina - siedzi wicher serca
cerkiew i meczet cukrzynka -
martwe to morze, morze,
martwe, lecz nie sól inno cukrem
lśniące błoto, jakby
   z Szanghaju *** świnski -
   córa dla starego i młodego -
Sühan - Sühan - Sühan Tuğba -
     po nią znów 100,000 łajb płynie -
dawna Troja -
  bo ci powiem co ci powiem -
     Turk nie Muzułman -
po Alim drugi - godny sfat Pers'a -
bo jak nie - Turk u progu Europy -
nawet i ja na podziw przed
    obchodem Kaab'y siedem razy
motłochu wart ogląd szkarabu -
i ten słodki adhan -
           bo dla szczoła śpiwać to
na marnie -
     boli też pruch po tych starych
bakach pośmiewiska papistwa...
   jebana kurwa mać w koło to samo -
nie wiem jak, ale
    wolałbym zdradzić chrzest
niż go przyjąć -
           ponownie -
ale jeno pod chorągwięm Turka -
jako janczar -
         chociaż tam jest: śpiew!
a nie, dzwon, dzwon w głąb 'pusciany!
czy też krokiem: kra kra krasnoludy!
fu!
     gorzkość i brzydota!
          mówie! Turek po łacinie
zacina? zacina - alfa-kurwa-becik
po jakiemu? nie po Ł'cinie
godnym Lwowa?
           z Turkiem moge, bo sie
chce, on i tak już lizał Bałkan
   i prawie zawstydził Wiedeń!
    ale to ciwilizowany Pan,
         bo umnie ubrać i nawet
pozwoli wypiç kiedy kości wychodzą
z ciała ogrzać cień!
     o tyle lepszy -
jaki przy Turku z Troją w ręku
i przy Perskim stygnięciu jest
ten prostak Arab...
     a jak im sie skończy czarny glut
to będa eksportować pioch!
    już wiem gdzie,
         na plaże Albionu!
             i tyle powiem -
   o Turka warto byłoby zdradzić -
bo skąd inne, piękniejsze od
  Greczynek niż ciup-ciup pijące
         wróbelki z nad Bosforu?
   Turek drugi Ali i trzeci podział
Izlamu - bo wkręt Ł'ciny -
             i tym też -
               sfoboda -
                 tym też dawny Byzan -
i Troja - i co jak nie Rzym -
        ostatni kalif -
                    i tym Arab w świecie
jak Żyd -
          ale o tym mniej od Żyda -
bo to bogacz na wielblądzie który
nie tylko nie może sie zmieścić przez
oko igły, a co też nie może
zmieścić sie w swe portki!

i don't know, maybe my writing has overtones
of begun conversatioin, never finished...
or maybe conversation is all my writing ever
invokes...
              it's almost as if want to talk...
but never muster enough will for it to take place...
   i could reread Kant's transcendental methodolgy
over and over again,
       i don't know, maybe because i'm european?
and i feel no allegiance toward feeling bereft
in dealing with a colonial past?
         european-centralism is nothing western...
it's not even muskovite, so what the hell is it?!
           when i read kraszewski is didn't beg for
Dickens....
              England was a marr bruise, 1 thousand
miles off from Reykjavík...
a lost cause...
                    dead in the artcic, alongside the scutter
of: the tales of the beheading monk...
          should he ever arise: and make Diana
the patron saint: as is her due...
             whenever i spent three weeks
starved from the medium of defeat,
                                 i did read Kraszewski as antidote toward
the fluke that's: paweł jasienica & sienkiewicz...
                    if ever poszukiwana, poszukiwany, (1973),
czy tem myś, czy tem: **** misja!
riplej! riplej! oh! nie dadzy ripleja!
   o **** to pytać: kurwe z amsterdamu.
ty? ty to huja dawny o zzadźwi zakonice w chomoncie
     nabić krojem: w babylonskie obietnice...
   szomota kryju skarg...
and this the end-trip of polish culture,
and me scold, that rubric of a wish to forget china-town!
you just savor that phrase: designed in California...
manufactured in Beijing!
         Mao-Tse chung-fowl kung-fu chop!
hrabia Ezzex...
                            fat-ma-gil turkczynka wiodle:
chóra! brak Arraba! tak, ten spustoszały
                        zagwizd smroden pełny, czworakim,
  obgadany w kodym: Lałrancja blondaßa!
                 anglischen: murgrabiaschen bach!
                          obejmać: wielbłąda, też mu pisano!
cycor wydajny... pierś też nie brak!
   cycek to też twój idol... ziarno maku zjem...
piasku: wpluje ci w oko i powiem: pieprz!
  sfędzi? czyli: trafiony: zatopiony... u-zbek u-bjojten.
jak tylko mu to Bóg zapisze...
tak zaklęty pismem: jak i czołem wyryty!
w swej mądrej czuwości! w bidzie będzie cytaty wtedy...
   czoło jego wyryć da kilo czerni wydobytej:
bo bendzie mógł mówić: szmacznie: stolec kwit!
i to straty: tak naprawde pragne.
                   at tu sra, sra sra: wielbłądzą flegmą:
by tej nie-wyparzonej gębie nadać nowy czyn
takiej to samej orgii pewności, jak zza wieku począt 2, 1.
                    to ja też go: o pardom: krawatem i
kajtanem obuznajm spytam... i co on mnie wtedy
nie powi! o jo jo jo joj! asz: sie boje.... boże boże:
   daj mi tchu: by w tą arabską morde
   na pluć co zwe: żyć z tobą nie łatwo...
  ale trza...
   pokajrze mordzine my bratku...
                                     daj! wszyje ci uśmiech
                poza granice policzek! tak na zbyt,
tak na gwarancje...
                               bo może i zapomne,
co kiedyś na mej, twarzy, nadać słowo zakwitu:
                       słać raz jeszcsze, szęst; czuwam więc, onajmić szeście
tym statkiem: to konieczne, spartańskie: wzbudzenie,
                    o to zór wojenny! nawet ten
ostatni angol... będzie pierdolił mi smutki
                       o swym: wzbogaceniu na wichurach
              zdobycia: koron i grzbietów pochyłych
w skraj kolonii... opłoczynnach: morgrabia szczoch...
teraz raptem: revolt... ha ha...
niby marionetka i światem poczytna znaleźli sie:
                           niewiasta narodzin absurdalnych wiar!
   no kurwa! w bieli syta! ja cie kręce!
    takich to wymówek to mi naprawde, za mało!

even my own mother spurred me on, with the words:
head north...
                  and close one eye,
and you will be a good father,
having been robbed fathering
your own in the girl's jealous demise...
so too back home,
a tornado av kråker
took me like Elijah and the fire-chariots,
only these chariots were menacing,
and shadow-drawn
composed of crows that harked
and harked, and were never to a lessening
bemoaning...
where i called home...
a tornado of crows greeted me,
and i felt to have been tilling the land...
unearthing graven artefacts
with potatoes...
as i walked, tears of sorrow turned to fire...
all i could receive from my
second cherished home was a bunch
of mutineer pigeons ******* all over
Trafalgar Sq., but where
i belonged, to earth bound in foreign tongue,
as i could - śmiechem nadać poza
ciałem rate, i tak jeno dusza, to co jest warte braku
pouczenia o wartość czegokolwieg...
o brother, my Muslim brethren,
you chose the wrong enemy...
you really have chosen the wrong enemy...
had i not been wronged by Europe,
i will make Europe wrong you,
since you have so wronged me;
i will make Europe perform an establishment of ******
in you... i will hurt you... i will destroy you...
i will ask for your mother in Ehel to be accompanied by
me in an act of pillaging furore and take her to
the bed... i cannot practice what that
****** psychopath taught... so few came across
the teaching... and so more fewer embraced it...
to forgive without embracing law
gives us societies such as the ones we live in:
glorifying pranks, and school playground politics...
that famous hand in the cookie jar slapped...
and yet we could have meant so much more...
as we once did, today as of forever,
the beauty stops, the summer is forgotten,
and forever autumn onslaughts the decay
necessarily prescribed to mark our paths differing...
for if you thought yourself as noble
in ascribing to yourself a noble genealogy...
and therefore supposing you were to merely
****** a peasant pawn...
i ascribe myself the same criminality in accusing you,
and your religion, of having no testicles,
but rather testicular cancer in attacking
non-colonial Europeans when post-Colonial
Europeans were to be attacked...
and i guide you toward exclaiming:
as king of a kingdom of no worth crown being donned,
i buried a commoner, a president, on the mount
of King of Vavel... thus i mourned,
having buried a commoner on the mount of Kings...
ascribing me the thought: then aren't all commoners
on equal footing to claim a crown?
why did democracy in Poland thus claim
royalty, why did it express it?
i only wished for our friendship to be of a lessened cataract,
keep your cause and effect to yourself...
even in heaven i will be cloaked in raven claw for teeth
to speak, and raven wing as shroud and shawl...
and your excuses will be like those of your
forefathers... ***** and disgraced under
Imperial Rule of England...
if only you sought a friend in me,
i wouldn't have sought a guillotine in you
to create a positive-plateau of stereotypes against
you and not you, but altogether, just you;
only because you sought to fake your nobility
had your seeking fake itself, and reduce you
to nothing more than a literate peasant,
or the paper-clip man of a law firm.

.poet, or philosopher, it doesn't really matter which is which, or whether the two are indistinguishable, notable in the former scenario, when someone has an eclectic bounty of interest is simply not love-scorned or love-nostalgic, love-idealistic, does it really matter? i was once called a philosopher: a teenage girl said in third person (as if she was a puppet and some-thing was moving her tongue): 'talk to this philosopher'... not in that sarcastic way that philosopher is an misnomer or an abused term of: self-gratifying grandeour, it was quiet genuine, but: imagine my shock... i had an ambition in life, it was to perform a service to thinking: without doing as much as hammering a nail into a plank of wood, that's the ambition of any thinking man: to borderline on telekinesis or telepathy... that was Hegel's modus operandi, his categorical imperative... after all: ego is a metaphysical tool, while thought is its metaphysical canvas... the mere suggestion that a copernican inversion can happen in physics "contra" metaphysics... it's already apparent, any word can behave like a hand touching the sacred object / subject of transfiguration and become something else, even a misnomer can find itself given solace to the user... for now i've forged a belief in the ultimate: away from the absolute in relation to omni in unum - one first has to learn to think, before having to learn to feel... mind you, i don't like the current nietzschean inversion of the cartesian equation: (ego) sum ergo (ego) cogito... esp. among the youtube political commentators, too many examples to give: i'm a classical liberal, i'm a progressive, i'm a liberterian... i don't really like seeing: i am, precede i think... i don't even like the origin-argument of this inversion: i exist for the sole purpose of thinking... after all: i think prior to being, since i can also daydream and not be what my thinking suspects as a possible truth-outcome... that's the nature of the freedom of thought: i don't have to be what i think, i can find thinking to be a pleasure, when the senses do not offer me any pleasure derivative, e.g. eating can sometimes be boring, chewing, chewing, *******... i eat because i need to live: i don't live to eat... i really have under-appreciated Hegel, i should really visit my grandparents for two months and read the phenomenology of the spirit: i'm trying to replicate the saying attributed to him (verbatim), but i doubt that i will, i don't have the patience to sift through all the quotes, but it goes along the lines of: beware oh wordly man, to not be a pawn in a thinking man's game... hence my suggestion of philosophy entering into the realms of telekinesis and telepathy: you get to see things play out and people express the origin story, of your own memetic generation of the original idea... how are poets finally alligned to philosophers? good thing that i studied chemistry at edinburgh university: we return to atoms, words are no longer enough, sure, they are, contrary to the statement...  (why did i under-appreciate Hegel? ah... had my head stuck up heidegger's and kant's *****...

integration? great!
but i'll meet you halfway...
i'll eat your fish & chips,
your englush breakfast,
i won't sing your anthem: god save the queen,
****** anthem, too short,
but i will whistle through:
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
like i might through la marseillaise...
i'll meet you halfway...
i'm not a former colony member,
commonwealth,
i'm not some ****- paying bribes
to the british powers
to join in on a world cup of cricket...
this is what happens when immigration
turns sour...
they either lesrn the host tongue,
or they don't learn it...
or they can't distinguish the two:
speak polonaise at home,
speak the hosts' sprechen outside of it...

if the ******* aren't suspect:
by not being bilingual...
the arab beatles... jihadi john...
ringo star h'ahmed...
george ali...
paul mecca rashid...
oh i'll settle for integration...
but don't you ******* think i'll give
up my mother tongue
for "c.c.t.v." close-ups back home,
home being my private lodge...
like ******* will...
i'll speak your tongue in public...
but i'm not ******* former commonwealth
****- riddled with a need to play
cricket, "forget" my tongue in order
to compensate for olives
and sun-burnt bananas!

a former colony ****-**** is about
to dictate the rules for fellow
europeans, on the tram-ride from
Birmingham to Nottingham?
seriously?
but of course the englishman
will favor the former colony pet bush-monkey
from sri lanka...
since the brit can't really dictate
to a fellow european his superiority
complex... which he can...
with a petted copper skinned
toy-ting...
who brought 'im a korma curry!
nice one, ol' laddy...
right on the plonker...
i'm not finished!
i'm just getting started!

gehirnablassen:

perfectly respected immigration,
given that so many english girls just love
the attention their **** minders,
sexually abused,
not really making it as nurses
or... ahem... karaoke superstars
worth the while of britain's got talent
or voice of britain,
or...whatever the ****** show was
that gave birth to one direction...

so a.... brain-drain? good immigration?
the best!

i can sit awhile by myself and count...
1. the sparrows,
2. the swallow,
3. the starlings,
4. the crows,
5. the magpies,
6. the pigeons,
7. the woodland pigeons
(fatter, with dog collars),
8. kestrels
(one is enough to begin
the count)...
9. the blackbirds....
10. seagulls... seagulls?! 25 miles from
romford to southend! seagulls?!
this far in-land?! fair enough...
11. a robin...
12. goldfinch...
i just sit and watch these birds
in my garden, i sometimes spot
a darting frog in the garden,
i'm more english than the english...
i actually enjoy owning a garden...
the "english" surrounding me
exemplify a bbq. as a luxury parade...
what's so luxury about marinating
some meat, and then grilling it?!
please! enlightend me!

gehirnablassen...
brain-drain immigration,
the type asiatic tiger-mums brag about
at child olympics...
for the required rubric stature...
******* mothers, basically...

)  notes to preserve completing
what remained: pending...

1. χaron χaos - cha-cha-cha       khaos / chaos...
2. theaetetus - so / ma   letters / syllables:
graphemes: sz phi theta
compound syllables (caron s) - Na (sodium)
3. music choice...
brain damage perturbator ft. noir deco
virga iesse floruit, gradual of eleanor of
britanny...
4. pride / stubborness (not equal to) honour,
tolerating islam is not the same
as respceting islam...
german 19th century fascination
with islam...
θought and φilosophy...
greek in warsaw, giving him directions,
talks: sounds so much like spanish...
5. england a nation of singletons,
idiosyncracy... social pressures in poland
and even in h'america missing in england
to marry...                                         (

1. well, let's begin...
        it has taken me two days to complete
my utterances... i've just spent 40 or so minutes
listening to the last of the youtube
stronghold (dangerfield -
               from hash to ******) -
i can relate on the literature,
i can't relate in taking steps of replica...
i started smoking marijuana
aged 21... i think you should start later...
drinking while being a teenager, fine...
i hanged around with some irish in my teens,
we used to have sleepovers at youth clubs
play pool, buy ***** mags and drink
white lightning: bumb cider...
but given that i was sold chemically
enchanced (negatively, i might add) marijuana
that turned me psychotic...
ah... psychiatric terms, used by the mainstream
like some casual metaphors...
     recently i was at a health scrutiny hour...
yes: my psychosis was made stable in
a schizophrenia: which is a new word to describe
bilingualism... oh the english natives!
what competent people...
  no, it didn't become bipolar: psychotic depression...
lucky me... lucky in that:
           bukowski: isolation is the gift...
the rest are a test of your endurance...
no **** sherlock!

  i just look at all the particular instances
when english (the language) breaks rules...
    heidegger merely pointed out
that there's a difference between chaos
and χαoς: well cheap and cha-cha-cha...
but when it comes to the ferryman?
some would say: χαρoν...
otherwise? do the raj bidding of inserting
a surd H... nibble at the tetragrammaton...
   and call the ferryman κ - αρoν
                                            (h)...
this isn't the only example: cheap, chisel...
        chemistry... it's not chem-ístree...
      it's kem-ístree!

2. poor *******, the english,
   they can't discuss orthoraphy...
hardly, to begin with:
what with i (ι) and j (ȷ) -
you have already cut the diacritical heads
of come the CAPITALS: I & J...
what a simple hydra to vanquish...

2. theaetetus - so / ma   letters / syllables:
graphemes: sz phi theta
compound syllables (caron s) - Na (sodium)

                     i like this one...
   letters, syllables, graphemes,
sodium: Na...
  the key and the door analogy of the keyhole...
feminism: it wants to coagulate...
to group existentialism with
scholastism...
sorry honey... play your footie:
*******!
                    key being inserted:
φought enters θilosoφy....
yes, the graphemes are elevated,
beyond the stature of consonants...
didn't you ask?
oh, you should have asked...
- socrates: can yoy give a rational account
                    of syllables, but not of letters?
- theaetetus: it seems possible.
-socrates: quiet; i think so too. at any rate,
surely you'll have an answer about the first
syllable of 'socrates', if someone asked
'tell me, theaetetus, what is SO'?
- theaetetus: yes, my reply would
be that it is S and O.
- socrates: so there's your account of a syllable,
isn't it?
    - theaetetus: yes.
- socrates: all right then, tell me alao of your account
of S is.

sorry... after this point, for B to be a surd?
bottomless pit... let's ask what is a letter,
what is a syllable... and what is a grapheme...
the greeks bargained on dialectical markers...
which they dind't need, since the latins needed them...
what is a syllable is also: what is a grapheme,
and how to account for "strange" vowels?

the greek thought, they thought,
"thinking" that only the greek language
was correlated to universal thinking...
and that universal thinking was only associated
with greeks speaking... pish-poor choice
if you mind...

         syllables... individual letters...
weren't consonants synonymous to syllables?
esp. with added diacritical markers?
play-tongue-think-tank with the greeks...
sooner or later they fizzle out as
redundant...
         couldn't keep Constantinople...
will not regret or revive the bounties of
reclaiming Istambul...

i once claimed to tolerate islam...
tolerating islam is one thing...
    respecting islam: quiet another...
i can attempt myself at
respecting a cloning device...
which any religion is: a cloning device...
i can tolerate it...
which, doesn't imply i respect it;
i wouldn't eat a meal with a muslim...
and sharing a meal?
is my fullest acknowledgement of
respect, i tolerate islam,
i, tolerate it,
   thank **** i don't respect it.
respect it like some 19th century german
philosopher... hegel or nietzsche....

what is a syllable "compensated" by
a grapheme, esp. with a hidden consonant,
akin to the caron "s"...
      i.e. šeep: look at that...
the first time orthography was introduced
into the englishsprechen...
   hid the H: šeep... sheep...

well we already know where the greek
letter went to: modifying scientific
constants... after all π = 3.14....
    Σ = summation...
            last time i checked...
letter, whether consonant or vowel
orientated,
took up more meaning beyond
translating the optic of encoded
sound into expressed sound...
    they became surds...
          tools to think with,
only secondary sound symbols...
you no longer translated the representation
of the sound,
there was an idea behind the letter...
disguised as a "letter"...
chemistry minded the syllables:
Na: sodium, salt...
   and that was that...
              
  fai(s) çe q'(u)é voudrā(s) -
written, but otherwise a surd...
fwench has the most examples...

3. music choice...
brain damage perturbator ft. noir deco
virga iesse floruit, gradual of eleanor of
britanny...
     mind you, i will gladly whistle about
three songs while walking...
this is the part where i become an arrogant
*******... teaching yourself does
that to a man, there's no pride in being
lectured, ordered to regurgitate...
for all that pomp & circumstance
that makes pride & prejudice shy...
    she should have always been
first choice on the fiver banknote...
jane austen my ***...
            mary shelley was the dog's *******,
through and through...
the three songs i sometimes whistle
while walking, taking a whiskey for a walk
(good thing i don't own a dog)...

a. beethoven's symphony IX
     allegro assai vivace - alla marcia...
b. la marseillaise...
   c. british grenadiers - fife & drum...
shhh...
    (for all the worth of shakespeare's
poetry... robert burn's:
aud lang syne...
        hell... i can't write sing-along poetry...
poetical commentary...
which still beats poetry worthy of
thee theatre...
shakespeare, no shakespeare...
aud lang syne:
   old long gone song, refurbished)...

5. england a nation of singletons,
idiosyncracy... social pressures in poland
and even in h'america missing in england
to marry...

       isn't it obvious? england is a metal
asymlum when you wish to see it as such...
somehow and "suddenly" all the social
pressures disappear when nagging either
a polonaise society or a h'american society...
i'll be critical of applied english,
as a language...
but when it comes to living?
               second to none... when i was younger,
and growing up in poland
the english were know as gaylords...
or the bellybuttons of the world...
now, having grown up among the irish
in the outer east-end of Loondon?
want to talk to a 6ft1 115kg "******" about
his lack of obsession with marital status?
his complete disinterest in dating?
what's a dating app?!
                 the same kind of "******"
obsessed with templar chants?
dabbling in helvegen?

  dating... what a weird concept...
whenever i get a chance, i'll sit with a thai
surprise (bisexual, female)...
manage to take her home, play her some
jazz... **** her in the garden...
                            walk her home...
"date"... when it comes to prostituites...
when it comes to prostitutes...
    britney spears  - criminal,
     rihanna - shut up & drive,
   lady gaga - telephone
                       holly valance - kiss kiss
delta goodrem - innocent eyes.....
gay boy got gay rights...
what a boring time to be alive in...
just when homosexuality was no longer tabooo,
norman stephen "typo" *******...
boring homosexuality...
  antithesis artistic homos...
gays are boring me with their antics,
i'd also love latex love triangles...
but...
  i'm not joining in,
since i haven't been made welcome...
         welcome this:
the rightful pucker of a knuckle count's worth
of a sucker!

    i've experienced only: 3, loves at first sight...
kot... i rememher her surname,
she was the first to kiss me,
aged, roughly 7...
    priya.... my ex-girlfriend's
younger sister...
                          isabella of grenoble...
who took my virginity...
oh, ****...
        there was freckles galore daniella...
at st. augustine's... rabbit to her...
there was... milena...
there was samatha...
                there was jadwiga...
                       there was janina...
i fell in love too many times...
there was ilona of novosibirsk...
   gregoria who licked my face
like a cow...
                 the ukranian *******,
the bulgarian prostitutes who i stole
kisses from,
the serbian strippers...
   packaged boy,
  postcard ****-acto...
                 the australian fling...
half hindu half scouser...
towering beauty with the looks
akin to tweety bird lips (as my irish friend
noted)...

women... ah ha ha...
           i guess 3 months is long enough
for me to be with them...
    last time i checked, she was on her period,
and i was gagging...
last time i checked: ******* a *******
her period alleviates the period pains...
she didn't let me,
instead? i received a week
bound to reading Bulgakov...

           condoms are great when used
to **** a ******* her period...
that's how i started to hate relationships...
*** monopoly..
   and readings from cosmopolitan magazine
about the out-dated
idiosyncracy of relationship statuses...

4. pride / stubborness (not equal to) honour,
tolerating islam is not the same
as respceting islam...
german 19th century fascination
with islam...
θought and φilosophy...
greek in warsaw, giving him directions,
talks: sounds so much like spanish...

     i can tolerate islam,
but, i can't respect it....
    how could i respect it?
           i met a greek in warsaw....
he sounded like a goth,
     how the spanish tongue sounded
much akin to the greek zunge...     

chamaleon tongue,                    shape shifter,
bez akcentu w piśmie - więciej akcentu poza pismem
(trainspotting scottish), welsh, cockney,
east london altogether, pakistani english, etc.
e.g. rather, or raver, i.e. not rayver
(someone who parties at night on an ecstasy pill)
but ra'ver, like verging on a new discovery,
it's not even the = ~v but is actually v...
english is a chamaleon tongue, you say 'nostic
when you write gnostic, i say diagnostic,
therefore say gnostic, you say 'nome, i say gnome,
as cf. with diagnostic;
then there's the case of the per se:
you say chamaleon - no kappa there apperent, eh?
but there's chappie, chap, chuckles,
no kappa in a millionth chance
to also say nough'ledge for knowledge,
a bit like that gnome of yours...
as i said before: a language without
a written insertion of stressors / distinctions
will produce a massive array of diacritical
stressors / distinctions outside the written format,
but it will also become as complex as to
allow adults with learning difficulties e.g. dyslexia,
and that horrid internet slang of shortcuts:
i ate my 8 when i was late for my disco date
with the cha cha cha melon.

          mind you: i always seemed to "mis-pronounce"
words in english... first came puma:
i was laughed at on a primary school bus
heading from st. augustine's (half-way between
gants hill and barkingside) to the barkingside
swimming pool: where i learned to swim
by myself, very much akin to me learning
the english language, by myself,
dropped into the deep end,
i was a complete mute...
my parents were also learning the zunge...
so they couldn't exactly teach me,
i had to learn it myself...
      so it wasn't puma: with that hollowed
out U...
      i.e. pú-mah... it was: pew-mah...
or piu-mah...
           weird...
                   then i found other examples...
i was once more corrected
when it came to the celts...
                       it wasn't cedilla "riddled":
çelts, but Kelts...
    funny that... the football team from glasgow
is dubbed çeltic, not celtic: isn't it?
i loved being corrected about my
pronounciation... get corrected enough times,
and then... light: you get to sprechen such
things as:
   what sort of orthography aesthetic discussion
can i have with an englishman,
when his sole diacritical markers
hover over an ιo: iota: i / ι...
   and that dotless antithesis of java - ȷ -
like in dante's canto XXVIII:
                               Bertrand de Born,
two completely pointless orthographical -
as i would rather call them:
indulgences rather than errors,
otherwise not necessary...
             excess spelling... and particular,
hidden, pronounciation variables...
that's as much of an orthographic debate
you will ever get from an englishman,
given their lack applied diacritical markers...
hey... if the english speaking peoples
love their "reality" chequers...
   their metaphysics...
           i have something as pertinent, ready,
orthography is far more interesting
to me than the grandeour of metaphysics...
so now we have to figure out
the third sister... given the already associated
benzene ring directions of associating
compound groups:
   ortho-,
                      meta-,
                            ­           para-...
  can't just leave it to paranorman / -"normal"...
para- needs to be associated with something
else if we're going to venture
with orthography and metaphysics
and further...

    another decent example?
       gnomes...           gnostics...
why is the g treated as a surd at the beginning
of the word, hence? 'nomes hence 'nostics...
but all the more apparent in a word like
diagnostics?
                               i guess i've found my
new playground: the english vocabulary.

p.s. if there's a hay patch at the beginning, the nasal flute
will ask larry 'the lynx' saxophone to hark it out with rasp
gritting of phlegm... but if it's somewhere else down
the piccadilly line... it will act like a nudist spy and resonate
less than expected; probably mingling with f, i think.

ozór mam swej ręce,
    oko
        w swym pysku,
  a słowo,
                 w swym oku; \ \ \ \
jeno anioł siedzi w mym
uchu, i gawędzi
     jak jakiś chłop
       o marnym wykształceniu;
bo se baba chciała chłopa...
  co by wydoił koze!
a ten chlop...
             hula-hula-hoop!
ucho zbyt warte...
   prawie nie warte
  kiedy serce szepcze;
                     i serce szepcze,
to co umysł głosi na folwarku!
   ten sam: za rok znowu
       wiosna!
       a serce szeptem:
     zapawene...
    a ty nie ojcem oczekiwań
  masz nie zaznać jakąś zmiane,
    chociaż tą najmniejszą,
by dać roku wyrok - tzn.
          ten przed, nigdy nie
     będzie ten po?
   nawet te zmarszczki na twym
czole, to nie te same glizdy
     w glebie ciebie, adamie,
                      zwanym ziemio?

i have my tongue
   in my hand,
   my eye
      in my gob,
and the word,
             in my eye. / / / /

moj jedyny kres to
     watek ukrainski...
poza czym, jedynie
slask wyrósł...
  *contra conslave
  hrabiń, i hrabów.

i tak też zerkam kiedy
na piaskach
ojczyzny...  ależ dziwnie,
prawie, a nawet wcale
jak niby to miało być i na mój
odczuć: ponownie w domu;
                     nie;
i już nigdy tak
                 nie będzie,
pomimo to że z tej
                 ziemi jestem -

pies warczy, pies szczeka...
              las otchłan ziewnienciem
otwiera,
           i tym, zasłania ludzką mowe,
mowiąc:
             to co myślisz, nie jest
to co wiesz...
        jak w ogrodzie:
    i będziecie znać różnice między
myślą, a wiedzą, powiedział dzik...
tym, drugim kłamstwem
   od pierwszego, zapewnionym.

post scriptum:

     sowiecka chmara...

sowiecki: szmer szarości...

wolna ręka
       na viß-à-viß
         obojątnego ciała:

co podobnie wita...

    "                 "
        moze... moze i moze...
    ale nie to: ...
                     inclusive of
        apparently without
a cliff-hanger.

        mordo-rył-śliną-w-***,
a potem:
         o czoło w
                          błoto:
              fú!
   (double stress on
the exclaimation mark)...

- by zbawić
                   Dawida,
  kim a nawet i kto,
     w, na zero zastygł
                  w posąg:

ruchomym na skinienie
          małpięj rękí...

   kim to wita jego niby-nikim...
'eno moi...
               a ja nadal:
w szereg!

   pytam: daleko tam do
podłogi fiołkiem latać
            poza gzyms?

dasz pióra?!
            (orthography
is... a case of actually applying
diacritical marks...
don't worry england,
russia has only butter to mind
in...

   back ь and forward я...
           apparently)...

                                  źle ci, człeku?!
to co ci w morde opętaną
do grzechu nad lud?!

       no własnie: mi to samo!
co?
              a co?            a
                                        gówno!

­serce mi gnije, i serce mi:
pęka...

         od jutra: nigdy od wczoraj!
to i czasem zapomne
                      tatuaż: precz...
a lepi świnski:
                            jeść, jeść, jeść;

co tam: grzemota?
                      niby rudy jid'y'ski,
a to tes, do kurwidołka gest...
                
               niby on: ń'cem!
        
                                хорошо?

Rosa: Wieloświat leży poza granicami odczuwania Gombrowicza
i obserwacji Grotowskiego, natomiast HERODY/ Herodenspiel
von Stefan Kosiewski pozwalają obserwatorowi na życie nowe
vita nuova we wieloświatłowości kwantowej  (ang. multiverse theater).
PDF: https://de.scribd.com/doc/269708846/

i'm a poet i'm a rat i will scuttle in darkness
and shimmering teeth
smiling at the moon
because i

walked the old haunts with myself
where i would sit in the night
drink and lament: by lament indeed
i indeed would cry
like a baby
unabashed like a baby a man-baby
not a man-child
but but a man-baby

i'm no Peter Pan or for that matter
Dionysus
what a poor choice of a demigod
coming from a man high on
barbiturates...
who?! who do you "who"?!
i'm not evening asking i will not drop
the "N" bomb...

        no... i will: with my Hot-Vizier
a man who knows Islam
i swear to god i need to find release
and release i will find
i need the stabbing numbing of the heart
i need to numb the heart
once more
forget this Eden
this slow ebbing Eden...

Nietzsche and the mysterious catatonic
Pole he became...
O wait: i'm a heavy drinker
i'm a mini not-me Dionysus
imagining my psychiatrists wondering
about that original diagnosis
as psychotic
and schizophrenic they mistook for
being bilingual: or they completely forgot
that i told them i heard
"voices" in English
but didn't hear them in Polish...
i wonder where i fit on the spectrum
of categorizing intelligence as a mental
disease:

but i did tell them... square in the face:
once you let me out of "here"
i don't know where DA will be or become
with all the:
-ing
-ing
-ing
-ing                          getting to rubric stance
rather than float about like
rogue planets
devoid of concept of meteor
or sun....

Geidi Prime to Geydi Sigma...
the satellite team nocturnal responding:
skin? mostly peeled otherwise
to my imagining: crawling...
thrombosis -
i like the sound of that word:

skin is crawling with nettle-worm
fluids...
we're constantly itching, Sire...
life is good but we have to complicate
it to make more bearable
even with the surplus of advantageous tools
women have the internet
and washing machines
men have AI

and i've never used too many APPS
but every time i mention that
i used chatGPT to help me complete
my NVQ Level 3 in Crowd Management
it's as if i never actually
studied a BSc in Chemistry at Edinburgh
University...
truly...

              i never once used a dating app...
not once... i never used a dating app...
me? i just went to the brothel.
simple(s): i.e. image-talk:
but not e:'moti)c;ons)

    (there: ode to e. e. cummings
in one word)

                 Arènes de Nîmes:
ahem..
AREN (not, i think: AR Eh)
de... d'uh...
NIMZ... not

Boris Brejcha concert:
i wish i was managing security at that event...

re-calibrating my mind
no... my eyes...
this is a problem of the eyes not the mind
the eyes have blind spots...
like so: put Cyrillic not Greek
to good use, for the sake of the Romans:

a rubric Anti-St. off Peter and Paul,
a reply to the Hebrews, rather simple:

ж = ż (or rz, depending on the context
of orthography,
i.e. able to differentiate between
rzeka: river and życie: life...
now for the rubric, short... and sweet!)

/                              ж = ż
/           у = υ (because of
Γγ               gamma) i.e. ooh ooh /
/                х = CH or samo H, not Z
   HEIM INS *****
         HEIM INS *****
*****...

                      ц = c     tylko c... nic wiecej!

before i entertain the tail on the e
for the sake of Polish
i best regress to Greek from Cyrillic
i.e. these letter elude me:
are problems for the eyes
to see past:

             Ξξ
                 Χχ               these two...

because i know
that...

              Ψψ = Σσς
                                       as    

        Ψψ ≠ Π(Σσς)π

                       approximate to subscript
is identifying a small letter
a progress from Cuneiform and Katakana
i must admit:
therefore establishing chemistry writing...
equations of not words
but artifacts of mind on stone
like able to identify minerals in a Dickensian
pleasure of reading
but i will never finish the Pickwick Papers
i'm sure of that
i abhor English literature
i don't understand why i had to read
Shakespeare like it was a measure
of writing skill rather than skill of recitation
because Shakespeare is not
among the: pardon my Swiss critique
just borrowed it: LOSER poet...
threw in a few sonnets to compensate
but think how lazily they were allowed
to write akin to Seneca...
akin to all these lazily living (also) writers...

ah... back to the rubric of Cyrillic...

           tylko c... nic więcej! nic! poza nic!
            nić

                      [t͡ɕ]

oh yes, that's music, the bilingual music
of speech... maybe i can't write music for the guitar
but i can write music for the instrument
of speech that is tongue...

                       ч = chequers...

mind you if i don't find it a problem with
very popular words
like szczerosc: truthfulness...
i could not probably note improve
but if emoticons are aplenty then
at least troll the **** out of the Roman alphabet
like the lazy Cyril trolled Cyrillic with
the easy e and a
and...
but all that effort in I

щ =       šč

point being: if szcz = щ
surely there might be a letter equivalent to
       -ść

dość! enough!

       thought in reverse:

                         don't make me bring out Jan Hus
and the Czech diacritical study:
you have to remember that there is still
this strange Pan-Slavic
that no Germanic person could or will acknowledge
since: can you believe it!
they don't speak English in Paris!

hence the new Tetragrammaton emerges:

    borrowed from sigma and Caro

   ZHZH...

             ha! and what vowels to throw into it like
stones? perhaps best to think about breaths
but it did dawn on my
when uttering THe letters like so:
the frictive variation of F
that is... in THE but not in THought....
but is also the same in ALthOUGH...

и
         и и
и и и

or

и
ииииии
и

    (meat and two veg, ha... not funny)

Cyril you lazy sod!
hey! look! lookie lookie!
no wonder then: so lazy on the a and e...
bud is going to be the next
Hackney ganster
educating the youth
saying that there is not need to panic
when using AI to pass
NVQ exams:
but believe me...
supervising is dull work...

those forced labor camps in Schindler's List
looked ******* authentic...
then the mood switches
and the women arrive in Aushwitz
and then you know:
a death camp is not a forced labor camp
the snow is falling
the dogs are barking
and the guards are ******* smiling!
i mean: if genocide was that bad
then imagine:
hello eternity hello god
and the people who are last in line
are in front of you:
...
   ...
      ...
******* smiling?!
how genius it must have been
to try to reunite the modern Hebrews:
unchanged
with the Ancients of Rome and Babylon
and Egypt:
to no avail! to no, *******, avail!
they stopped fearing uttering THE NAME
to now openly testifying:
oh, so complicated: say what you will...
we really don't know how to say
the word right now...
we never did... plagiarists of Gilgamesh:
store front: Jesus Saves...

****, this ****! **** it!
well... if tribes galore is what we're mining
then at least the Chinese
and the Indians (blue blue)
don't need mentioning their post-tribal
period as civilizations

in this brief civilization yawn
of Europe
we begin tribal again
thanks to the import of labor from
"elsewhere"...
no... there need not be some right wing revival
i just need to watch Schindler's List
with one more beer
and compare the guards
at a forced labor camp
and the guards at a, the, death camp
and begin to wonder
how the logistics of fooling so many
people to the bowels and furnace of
the birth of Moloch came about
so willingly so sheepishly
fooled by a bar of soap
from work camp to death camp
i'm still rattling my brains
about the coordination of the spectacle:
logistically
if you ever worked at Wembley
esp on the egress.. outside...

i can imagine volume: of people: like water...
90 thousand people dispersing from
a Coliseum
after an event it takes roughly 2h...
circa 100 people per tube carriage...
the logistical endeavor: the livid and drinking
insomnia of it all:
if i were a police officer not a security
officer
or a chemistry teacher would i have
the same sort of language freedom as
i am afforded, right now?

money? for this?! you kidding me:
the 20th century literature is still somehow
the stuff of envy while
i'm doing this for the best reason
other than reading a book
and that's called taming the ego
and ensuring it's like a voyager and all
the suitcases are packed
because i can't stop thinking that
i'm an SS-man or a Harkonnen
because that's how i begin to understand being
human...

mind you i was impregnated with that
thought: of being an SS-man
by my teachers in school:
although i have green eyes they saw blue
since green is rare
because the repressive genes that give blue
eyes
overcame the possessive genes that
give brown eyes
but i was white or somehow grown piglet
in no tux of pink
and blah blah a history reference point
to that song about a Bomber like
a glass bottle on a wall: the IRA and the RAF
joint: closure:

defunct bombs: only architectural damages...
(would prefer that in a non-plural
expression, i.e. damage... never mind)

        so much for heartache when she goes
all teary commando and
i get to feel **** that's not: ****
then i make a quick and sudden
incision and the festivity is over
and i'm tired of living but adore the mantra:
arbeit macht frei

and it's not just that people lose
intelligence when congregating
it's just sad to behold such affairs
on a daily basis
when you could, quiet simply:
isolate these examples of man
and not be as disappointed as
i found myself being:
on countless times...
these... things... magi-jigs...
              
             suppose i didn't want to write
the script to the Apocalypse... what then?
Nietzsche had take 1 and take 2...
everyone is feeling embarrassed by simply
being alive...
or strangely alive...
#metoo: getting the jitters like a girly girly
i so wanted for that Billy Eilish #LUNCH
song to not be a ***** ANTHEM
but it's like the White Stripes' 7 Nation
Army at football stadiums...

tummy ache: tum tum...
tum , tum tum tum tum tum

maybe i might just get the rhythm right
with but one word but
the best, acceptable punctuation
(and no, no diacritical markers...
who's who in the know of known who
i.e. knows: who knows)

tum, yes... about right... 5x tum after the initial
punctuation...
but there is at least one other
that i will turn from the comma
into an apostrophe...

tum, no... 6x...
just listening to the song: sorry... right back no back
just shoulders...
and that Cain plum on my shoulder:
am i an angel or just a simple man
devoid: please please poetic audience
tactic me some variation of a hard-on
no no, pretty: pwetty please...

tum,tum...

****'s sake can't count
what i see though is:

tum,tum'tum'tum'tum',tum

       something like that...
the basics... no gradations of splendor:
just the POINT of INTEREST...
smoking barrel of a gun is a fake
when the chimneys of Auschwitz
are not touristy destinations of Giza...
am i, hearing you...
yo-yo...
sorry... ear wax... am i hearing you just
right
before the altar of the god Alter and Pronoun?!
maybe... ha ha:
by now who **** knows! right?!

poza godziny: tzn.
   wypełnić dzień - dniem...

   too eager to retract "complexion"...
if that is even, remotely, available:
as a Caucasian standard...
return to my mutter-zung(e)...
some great migration
i'm guessing something borrowed
from history i'm guessing
the Copernican "revolution" had its zenith
now is the time of: everything vogue Darwin...

to find an hour in a day and do X -
the algebra notation
rather than the phonetic
i.e. xylophone for starters...
through the chalk-&-cheese grinder
sizzzzzzzle...
drone strike at the snore and snorkel...
unless... fax
me the details... it comes "last" or not
least "late"...
how sigma "behaves" or was
otherwise discovered
to be:
cedilla at some point...
     cursor...
            sNAKEs...
                      σN∀ʞƎς
                                        s'nay'x...

rather "unnecessary" but a must...
bothersome these strict barriers
and when / but when one returns
to the cascade of sounds
and what's to be said: sung...
thought & therefore seen...
i can forgo all the tux-juxtaposing
and a: dozen or so penguins...

bravado... one can try to read
a newspaper...
one does... one even uses this royal
****-off route to mind
what matters...
as an extension of
james marriott's book review...
i was a fan of jordan B peek-a-boo...
when all things in the wunder-land
of tubes: how was copperwire
invented? asked my glaswegian
english teacher? two scots arguing over
a penny... or a: PENCE - je pense!

newspapers have really taken a
hit for audience size, competition...
on the sideline you notice this...
"grief"...
what worked for the 20th century
propagandists... doesn't work now...
at all... no factions just... fractions...
and people in the congested
equation, somehow too...

it can be, or rather is, absolutely: unamusing that
one must have a mother...
for that matter - that there are two -
what with death being the second -
altogether: through and through -
unamusing and, or rather stringent:
      unmoveable shards of darkened ice...
at first that's about it...
        as one does when *** is a "waste"
or that ******* is something
    a typo for a metaphor for a misnomer
of what can't possibly be genocide -
or if it is: a solo project of an equivalence
that's met when...
scrubbing the dead skin parmesan
       off the soles of your feet...
    or having your hair cut...
          or engaging in grotesque pâtisserie...
i.e. pinching a loaf...
sitting on the... throne of thrones
for the holy trinity to congest the time...
frankly... there are not enough
hours in a day to
congest them with listening to
bbc radio 3...
i tried to cram as much radio 4
when in bed with a strict take on
a loss-of-shadow-hangover:
body as if a mollusc esque-form...
not borrowing from Kafka and yet...
glistening with a glitter and primordial
saliva gob-slob jacuzzi...
gurgle at every turn... gurgle-gurgle
and froth to ******: withs... bau-bau-bubbles...

but i'm thankful for the comparison:
and my own little life too...
little so little it doesn't dare to raise
notions of hierarchy...
that there is a hierarchy that's all
the better:
no one's moving up... no one's
moving down... plateau of plateaus...
but when i suckle at the bottle...
and it's a bottle of ink i can't spill
while i'm also drinking for a tease
of... teasing humour...
and i haven't written awhile...
while i pick up something grandiose
to experiment with... like...
bbc 3 will champion clarice lispector
but not machado de assis...

but agreed... what happened to
the "unread": i'll come dangling on
a hot-air balloon... screaming maxims...
first of most: or 'of all'...
i'll probably buy a bicycle and cover
those distances walked...
from havering-atte-bower
to... st. paul's cathedral...
coldharbour...
epping... in half the time it would
otherwise require me to tame
a marathon...

exemplar status... when i arrived in Paris
on my own i was not filled
with anything Stendhal likened imitation /
overbearing / copycat implicitness
(no implicity) -
         i exhaust the right to write more
than any of my drinking unfathomable
cruising through bottle and bottle:
message after message...
crab feet...
            giraffe necks...
scissor when expecting...
                           bamboo pincers... etc.

otherwise finally arrived at:
this "finally arrived" at
                dź (дь)
no vs. dż (дъ) otherwise...
what do i do with a "3":
                   эз: mind m'ah f'ez...
butter-fingers: deutsche! primo!
if my schnörkellos & butterfinger...
does you any harm...
crescendo + from the Urals
of the plural S... tomb of the vicinity-"victor"...

Paris... on the night of the Bataclan
stampede for bones, bruises,
tendons and sinew...
and offal... like... chicken heart...
chicken stomachs...
like that night when i was painting
my bedroom drenched in rose...
in chemical red
looking out for those mantis eyes
of lore like a bored
housewife of Pompeii...
before the irrittion
of the gods and the Huns...
drenched me with stuff all morbid
and splodgy...

suppose a ghost invites me to:
close a door...
suppose a door
suppose closure...
suppose the presupposition of...
****** theatrical null
and then a peacock of genesis...
a phoenix of exodus....

       a big chin 'arry delves into
structuring thinning...
who's a who who (a) what's already been given...
triptych on the buckle:
less hooves of horses charging
anti: against chaffs of wheat and more...
this sinking sensation requesting me
to make drown of all things
spec-tac-ular...

yonker: *****...
             mr. se(o)ul... his says...
says he:
           is any 'n' every...
Trafalgar Sq. presupposing
a Na-po-le-on...
to a somewhat... be...
well done.. boiling down:
the...         knuckles...
heave this limbo of cartilage :

oh i'm very much adapted
to...
insomnia
and "insomnia" libido too...

quake... nothing passes...
a biscuit might...
"crumble"...
a clown might poke fun
at making a...
"jellyface".