Strange, except true.
Some folks refuses to face the real truth.
Whenever asked, who profited more from racism?

Since Civil War and probably before.
We all within the real world know this answer.

Using the politicians present and of the days of old.
They craft legislature to hold back some.
Just like laws created to banned throw from counters and selected water fountains.
Where the water were the same color?

So, who profited more from racism?

Presently, we heard "Black Lives Matter" which isn't against any particular group.
But as with any controversy some complains and miss the point.
Which were addressing verdicts decided by juries in courts.

Where some are dead on?
And others completely wrong.
Then like a Four Tops songs "It's The Same Old Song".
The power that be always complains they being done wrong.

Without addressing, who profited more from racism?
Families with good connection.
Where their child should be serving time?
Instead on probation seeking some type treatment.
Because the power of wealth works decisive in those decision.

Facts, has been written and analyzed several times.
That white often don't how to handle conflicts with others.
Then when you bring this up.
Many use the reverse racism tricks.

Failing to comprehend many white judges courts decision that got off many.
We seen this in Alabama and Mississippi during the sixties.
And continue to in the present.
If up for votes whites would revert back to segregation.

Cause been on a competing level they finding out education truly matters.
Then they had better schools in the past.
And was the creator of white flight.

But history has pointed out during days of old they terrorized blacks during the nights.

So who profited off of racism?
Of course this is just one person's question?

We had our Jesse Helm.
We had our George Wallace.
We even have a Clive Bundy.
Who reminds you of Bull Connor?

They speak.
And a few supporters support them.
And their off center views.

But they always fail to comprehend truth.

Who profited the most off of slavery?
Who gained the most off of segregation?
Who reflect back to the days of their youth?
When they wasn't treated harshly or cruel.

But during the days of segregation came across as fools.

Now that time is changing.
And many can't adapt.
They hold on too their racist ways.
Even support from kiss up politicians of today.
Who agree one minute?
Then back off the next.
When heat comes upon them from the news.

Yes, who profited the most?
Oh, they cry about Affirmative action.
Which wouldn't have been created.
If they only been fair.

Many minorities remember the hurtful scares that still there.

Many youth today support their elders hating upon them.
For the turning on of the fire hydrants.
And bombing churches.
Yes, churches of all place.

And the courts afraid to punish them.
Yes, who profited the most from segregation?

Who ran to far region of the city?
And fighting to change things back to those golden days.
Many minorities remember the black maid.
A role many Latinos are assigned today.

Many remember the black mothers raising the white child.

Oh, its true.
That the more things change.
The more things stays the same way.

That's one of the main reasons we still fighting bigotry today.

Social media companies
Swear it's you they want to please
They badly want for you to see
That they value privacy
And that there are several strictures
On who can see your posts and pictures.

You think your profile is secure
You're satisfied until you hear
That they sell your information
To advertising corporations.

Every post that you've spent time on
pictures, videos you had your eye on
They save it all for using later
And say "It's ONLY metadata!"

They as good as have a list
Of content that you can't resist
And knowing full well what you like
With custom ads they duly strike!
They desperately want you to keep scrolling
So they can see the money roll in.
And their ethics will be forfeited
So advertisers can be profited.

War.
One syllable.
Three letters.
Such a simple word.

Why then does it have such an immense power?
The power to break people.
The power to annihilate.

It rips children from their parents,
Tears lovers from each others’ arms.
It steals our youth
And smears our last days.
It divides the most united people,
Destroys the most beautiful of countries.

It is the greatest of hypocrites.
Some claim to fight for their countries,
Some for their oh-so-loving religion,
And others for their family's honour,
But all are driven by none other
than their own poisonous ego and pride.
And if not the individual,
The institutions sending them
To their certain demise is.

It kills most,
And those who escape it
Are left with a fate far worse than death:
An eternity of guilt and sorrow,
Of agonizing memories
And restless nights
Wondering what could have been.

It is filthy, corrupted and tainted.
Tainted with the crimson blood of the fallen,
The deep scars of the survivors,
The shrill cries of the mourners,
And the money of those in power.

And the greatest of its crimes:
The innocents pay the highest price.

You see those fancy politicians with tailored suits
standing in front of the crowds preaching
about the bravery of the people
who are being desensitised to killing
and taught to not feel or think but just obey?
They are not the ones who lay awake at night
too scared to close their eyes,
too afraid of their own minds.
They are not the ones who were told they were heroes
and yet came home to find themselves without support
sleeping every night on the cold concrete
in front of some big-name store whose owner probably
profited off the same ******* war that led them there.
They are not the ones who will try for the rest of their lives
To heal the generational trauma they inherited from their parents.

No, see those fancy politicians are going to go home tonight
to their big fancy house in their big fancy car protected on all sides.
They are going to have a great night of sleep
knowing they have just gained new funding for their campaign
by sending innocents to the slaughterhouse
so that the CEO of some oil company can make more money.
They are content knowing that
they have successfully put a price on a human life.

War.
A word that should evoke negative feelings
and yet has been so normalized that we no longer respond to it.
War.
A word that describes the most atrocious of realities
but that has somehow been made into a badge of honour.
War.
A word that should be feared and despised
but is instead weaponized to manipulate the people.
War.
A word that should never be the first option
but has become a shortcut for greedy rich people
with political influence to obtain more power and become richer.
War.
A word that was said to be associated with "barbaric", "uncivilized" people
but has somehow mostly been used by the "civilized" ones
and is now one of the pillars of modern capitalism.

War.
One syllable,
Three letters,
Just a ******* word.

To Ezra Pound

These are the names of the companies that have made
        money from this war
nineteenhundredsixtyeight  Annodomini  fourthousand
        eighty Hebraic
These are the Corporations who have profited by merchan-
        dising skinburning phosphorous or shells fragmented
        to thousands of fleshpiercing needles
and here listed money millions gained by each combine for
        manufacture
and here are gains numbered, index'd swelling a decade, set
        in order,
here named the Fathers in office in these industries, tele-
        phones directing finance,
names of directors, makers of fates, and the names of the
        stockholders of these destined Aggregates,
and here are the names of their ambassadors to the Capital,
        representatives to legislature, those who sit drinking
        in hotel lobbies to persuade,
and separate listed, those who drop Amphetamine with
        military, gossip, argue, and persuade
suggesting policy naming language proposing strategy, this
        done for fee as ambassadors to Pentagon, consul-
        tants to military, paid by their industry:
and these are the names of the generals & captains mili-
        tary, who know thus work for war goods manufactur-
        ers;
and above these, listed, the names of the banks, combines,
        investment trusts that control these industries:
and these are the names of the newspapers owned by these
        banks
and these are the names of the airstations owned by these
        combines;
and these are the numbers of thousands of citizens em-
        ployed by these businesses named;
and the beginning of this accounting is 1958 and the end
        1968, that static be contained in orderly mind,
        coherent and definite,
and the first form of this litany begun first day December
        1967 furthers this poem of these States.

                                        December 1, 1967

The markets up, the Markets down
For weeks it just meanders.
Alas, my stocks are always down
Each time I take a gander.

GM, Lehman, Citicorp
My broker bought for me-
And you can guess the net result-
I’m broker now, not he.

Those friends who don’t avoid me
Say I’ve reversed Midas’ touch.
I don’t turn things I touch to gold
I turn gold into rust.

I’d heard dart tossing Simians
Can best the S & P
So I went to the Zoo this March
to consult a Chimpanzee.

He perused the chart then flung a dart
to pick a stock for me-
And now I’m getting margin calls
because I bought BP.

He seemed the sage of Omaha
before he ruined me.
I should have tried Orangutans
And paid their higher fee .

They wanted five bananas
My monkey worked for three.
But now I’m bust because I used
a discount Chimpanzee.

I might have dodged a massive loss
And profited besides
Had I but heeded the baboons’
Sell signaling behinds

In a quiet inn
         in an aching world
there was a boy with mind
body and strength
he had the talent
the unyielding bent
to wield his power
to unrelent
he was sometimes cruel
he was often sweet
he was sometimes gentle
his word carried heat
people loved him so
his poise and candor
his mind was a joy
his work was pure splendor

he was asked
         from time to time
if you could lead us
with your mind sublime
what would you do
where would we go?
         beyond, he'd say,
to the stars and depths
to the moons and mountains
to the planets and systems
how long,
         they'd say,
would you lead us, hence?
         "A thousand years and a thousand more
         a thousand thence and evermore."

his rise was swift
his patience deep
to the destitute, favor
to the broken, weep
his gifts were vast
his counsel practical
his word was bond
and ever magical
he trounced the greedy
imprisoned the malicious
righted all the wrongs
seldom vicious
and before long
his rule was secured
a man of justice and principle
tenets of cure
how long,
         they'd say,
will you lead us, hence?
         "A thousand years and a thousand more
         a thousand thence and evermore!"
we wish it so!


trouble gradually
like bubbles passively
breaking the surface
of his grand design
officials profited
underclass maligned
body for profit
"all are mine"
there was danger in the air
ripples in the well
poison in the minds
infirmity with no care
and sickness took hold
people lost their hope
they questioned Great Lord Marra,
how long,
          they'd say,
will you lead us, hence?
          "A thousand years and a thousand more
          don't ask me again
          or there will be
          more..."

Chaos in the streets
desenters rounded
deserters uprooted
populace cowered
education
to the masses
knowledge of rights and potential
traded for respect of rule and power
hour by hour
day by day
toil was spilt
for the grand design
the work of tyranny
is cruel and violent
so was Grand Lord Marra
never certain
never quiet
         he would ask of his subjects,
         how long shall I rule?
they'd say,
         "A thousand years! A thousand years!"
"Never forget it!"
         we shant, our lord

Whispers arose
of a new power rising
someone true
someone firm
someone compassionate
someone alight
he roused the dreams in the soul
he broke the chains in the heart
he walked the roads that were barred
he climbed the mountain forbade
and slowly people turned to him
away from Grand Lord Marra
and that tyrannical father felt it
he felt the waning of his power

Like a dragon in the bowels
of our precious, sacred, love
Marra tightened around that
which the people ever adored
the grand design of toil
the great work of tyranny
the state paid for with blood
that whose edifice was a crypt for the innocent
and that someone who was hero
stepped up to that edifice
with chisel, hammer, pen, and passion,
he carved away that
which held the malice within
he let out all
of the death and destruction
that Grand Lord Marra
had caged in the people
the world played with their shadows
that had been nailed to the edifice and its steeple
and in time they shook free
of Grand Lord Marra's tyranny
for when they learned their freedom once more
the old lord looked old and feeble
not a thousand years
       nor a thousand years more
               nor a thousand years hence
                        and nevermore
just 66 years
it took to break free
of Grand Lord Marra
and his projected
infirmities

The illness left them all
         breaths of relief swept the nation
and the hero who had come
         was crowned the king of freedom
and he taught all who followed
how to wield the power he knew
how to be free as well
and every dragon of delusion slew
        peace would not reign forever
        new chaos would come
stronger than the last
        strong as the world and its evolving sun
but in this age, there was peace
        joy like never before
                 and our hero's name was remembered
evermore
evermore
        he did not live a thousand years
but his stories certainly lived longer
in the hearts of the people
in the hearts that were won

Yet a strange thing occurred
       sure as night conquers day
Grand Marra's visions of the future
       did not decay
                 they became the bedrock
of future design
        for light rests on darkness
the grand design
        two sides of the coin
yours
and mine

darkness for foundation
        light for revealing its depth
pathway into the future
        left and right steps...

As I was a child,
Unlike the normal mass.
I wanted to be the nightingale
The best in class.

A habit I planted,
In the Garden of Eden.
Watered by the grief of my past,
As it grew taller, the fruit sweetened.

I had sinned,
Profited from competition’s demise.
Stole his talent,
Grew in age but not that wise.

What enables, divine
What disables, human.
Got out of luck and empathy,

In apathy, like an ungrateful yeoman.

Couldn't wash the mirror,
Need to wash my face.
Blinded by my addiction of fame,
Embryonic, falling from the summit in rage.

Now I am a pavement artist,
Pride and sin hath a fall.
Living with and like stray,
Failing my life as the nature called.

Social media companies
Swear it's you they want to please
They badly want for you to see
That they value privacy
And that there are several strictures
On who can see your posts and pictures.

You think your profile is secure
You're satisfied until you hear
That they sell your information
To advertising corporations.

Every post that you've spent time on
pictures, videos you had your eye on
They save it all for using later
And say "It's ONLY metadata!"

They as good as have a list
Of content that you can't resist
And knowing full well what you like
With custom ads they duly strike!
They desperately want you to keep scrolling
So they can see the money roll in.
And their ethics will be forfeited
So advertisers can be profited.

Riot because it's expected riot because they want to arrest you riot because you are angry and full of righteous anger riot because f* the police and f the government f the a** in the white house riot because you don't know what else to do riot because they left you no choice riot because they'll shoot you with a gun riot because you can't defend yourself right because they fear you will riot for the dead babies riot for the crying mothers riot for incarcerated dad's riot for ****** parents riot for grandparents raising babies riot for the Foster system riot for abusive families riot for church goers riot for God for the saints and martyrs riot for the devil  riot for income inequality riot for mcmansions tenement housing section 8 and for interest only predatory loans riot for Wall Street stock fuckery riot for corporate radio where you feel what they want you to feel for the tail wags the dog riot for censorship for shitz and **** and f* and ***** and art and
truth and unpopular opinion riot for truth and the lies told to hide it riot because it feels good right because it hurts riot because that's what society requires of you riot by the seat of your pants Riot because no smoking no drinking no chaining up dogs riot because dogs chain you up by their wallets riot because cancer ate your insides and religion ate your soul riot because your brain belongs to science and 38 other corporations and legal entities riot because they stole your land and burnt down your family riot because they stole your voice tainted your poems your songs and water and water down your truth riot because the carpet bombed your town city neighborhood reservation farm ranch plantation in bomb shelters riot for pacification dancing shows and discotheques riot why not? F them riot because you ain't caught anything all day except maybe ***** riot for free titjobs and overpriced b* riot for unemployment riot for well-connected fraternity brothers
and elite ******* riot for fake morality and pregnant stepdaughters riot for empty nesters and growing too old riot for peacekeeping military envoys and well-armed diplomatic missions riot for philosophical differences over which college football team wears the right color uniforms for racist mascots for trails of tears of many a harassed and violated person riot for tears and fears in general and sanity of society riot for ***** streets and clean suburbs riot for privileges you never had....

and riot for those that did riot for broken glass and free TVs because they've been held in captivity for too long riot for the oppressed under-represented the ghosts riot for the conspicuous riot for the helpless riot for The helpful riot for those without love in their life because how can you live without love? Riot for the hate and the bigots they need some love upside their heads riot for peace because the cops and soldiers and guards and troopers won't stop on your account jackboot goose-stepping to the tune of some other a* riot for children locked away in cages treated like stray dogs and not given dignity riot for SWAT raids on working people riot for students shuffle around like cards riot for slavery riot for greed riot for substandard manufacturing and quickly thrown up housing riot for Hovels and vacationing rats and financial advisers with your money riot for the last gasps of fresh air and pure clean water riot for fresh food and grease pits riot for those people stroking out with arrhythmias and cats and bypasses and dying by insurance Representatives riot for the toe tags and the death certificates riots for the school's not teaching truth riot for profiteering from necessary services riot the Dead the suicides The Killers shooters riot for Injustice for public ****** riot for probation cost and fees and the cycle of poverty...

riot for love for life for death in multiple baptisms that just don't take because it's all guilt and superstition riot for the sweat on the browse the stains on the t-shirts riot for the calluses on the hand and the holes worn into the jeans riot for the roofers in summer and the ditch-diggers and winter riot for the clergy with the best of intentions riot for judges and cops bought off by other people's money riot with a pitchfork and a torch and a cause riot with a fire in your belly and a Love in your heart riot for wars of aggression and preemption and murdering children with bombs we manufactured and we sold and profited from and took that blood money and put up walls between us and those in society different from us because we bought into the fear strategies riot for fear riot for the ashes and the pine boxes and the crocodile tears and the false sentiments the thoughts and prayers riot for Dharma and karma and car alarms and superficial meanderings and musings riot for Riot's sake riot for dead babies riot because we all did it and you feel guilt right because they don't riot because of love love riot peace riot righteous riot

Silly poets. .  
do you really think the ™ and ® symbol will save you?
the true artist
who wrote the great plays and poems
painted and played the immortal masterpieces
profited the second
it was available for all to . .

share
   observe
listen
experience
  feel

Protecting your work
for financial gain
with silly symbolism
of the status quo
only hinders the true wealth
it can present.

Tis a life of profit and gain
counted loss innocence slain

love measured in gold
Passion an entertainment sold
Poverty humanity to hold
labor of innocent child sold
hunger pains in famine unfold
to the needed food for profit sold
nations war, borders to hold
profited by guns sold

Honor and pride humanitys pain
love of innocent souls sold in vain

Nature her teasures doth hold
Destroyed by greed and sold
beauty of flowers at day unfold
Withered in poison its home sold
beasts born free a zoo doth hold
forest to factories sold

nature by human deeds slain
Sold to us suffering and pain

tis

Blue ink was no friend
Blue ink was the most boring plan
For the trees and hills Suzy ran
When Mama came with a stick in her hand

For months and years Suzy despaired
This forced acquaintance she wished to be spared
This Hulk of a character Mama'd personify
This waste of time, she knew not why

I just wanna be free, Suzy lamented
An uproarious laughter, with which she was greeted
Why do you act all so tormented, said this voice
Without blue ink, you will be mistreated

How do you carve a path of your own
How do you enforce a right you wouldn't have known
How do you right a wrong you don't condone
How do you condone life when left alone

To the books and pages Suzy ran
Devouring much material in the given span
In a solid colour, she saw a world of wonder
In its simple strokes, there was no more to be coaxed

In happiness and despair, Suzy was elevated
In health and sickness, she knew to be liberated
In company and solitude, Suzy was educated
In wealth and poverty, she knew she had profited

Blue ink had granted her the highest of privileges
For to live well, is to live with choice
A coveted privilege, with which we rejoice

Dear whoever,

I choose to walk in the deepest darkest recesses of the night. Just as the midnight hour passes. I wander campus alone, lost and confused, letting my feet take me on the same path it does every night. A path where most people would never venture. I head towards the darkest alleyways, the most deserted parking lots, the places where people can be hurt, have been hurt, and will be hurt.

I am searching for that evil that once hurt me. I want to see it again, confront it. I want it to devour the little bit it spit out the last time it descended upon me. What little it has left within me is not worthy of living. This creature of the night that prowls on those who do not notice has taken my self dignity, my beauty, my innocence. Has profited on my naivety that all is good in the world.

My mind is ****** up. I am *****, beyond *****, I am polluted. Polluted with filth and grime and bits of someone who thrives on being the powerful over the powerless. My soul is unclean and forever tainted. maybe one day this will just be a back file of my memories, but it will always be there. Haunting my days and terrifying my nights.

So on these midnight escapades, I offer myself, wholeheartedly to the beast that stole me. I offer my body, my mind, my sanity, my soul. Either I am taken away, to forever dwell in the fires of Hell, or I fight and survive and know that I can protect myself once again. I need to find out. That is why I am offering myself. I need to know my blood still runs through my body with life. Some people wish they were dead, I just wish I felt alive once more.

Most sincerely,
Me

"You control our world. You’ve poisoned the air we breathe, contaminated the water we drink, and copyrighted the food we eat. We fight in your wars, die for your causes, and sacrifice our freedoms to protect you. You’ve liquidated our savings, destroyed our middle class, and used our tax dollars to bailout your unending greed. We are slaves to your corporations, zombies to your airwaves, servants to your decadence. You’ve stolen our elections, assassinated our leaders, and abolished our basic rights as human beings. You own our property, shipped away our jobs, and shredded our unions. You’ve profited off of disaster, destabilized our currencies, and raised our cost of living. You’ve monopolized our freedom, stripped away our education, and have almost extinguished our flame. We are hit… we are bleeding… but we ain’t got time to bleed. We will bring the giants to their knees and you will witness our revolution!" ~ Jesse Ventura

what of nature is eaten by the mouth of man,
      so too eats the genitalia of
woman with as much ferocious gluttonisation -
   no serpent of eden care more
for the reality that's bound to tempt the choice:
either know or be known -
     below the standard equator of the body
as the point of disembowelment and Cesarian birth...
   spewing toward a heap of two tonnes
of sardines with a stench that can't classify
**** for the scent of strawberries...
               proof of solipsism? a man sitting
on a toilet for an hour with a newspaper...
   disproof of solipsism? a man easing a **** out
on a crowded train... ****** expressions?
piquant... yonder! the lustless ******! or what
would be said when the gyroid was out of place
when anything concerning sine and cosine
      reflected the one plausible coordinate of
tangens... namely 0... so in whatever algebraic
form interweaving sine x with cosine z + + +...
you'd still get the tangens either side exponential,
and your own summary, bound to that
infamous biography of never reaching fame...
     and that myth of Atlantis and the serpent there?
  more like an octopus that fiddled and slobbered
the **** than said: of this fruit an addition
to your "natural" duality - to encourage your number,
replacing dualism with a dichotomy...
           rites of passage for the ceramically fainting skinned -
ivory and squint, then
           diddly-and-piglet-or-flamenco-skinned-squat -
wide-eyed... or listening to how the Bulgars settled
in Europe and became ethnically cleaned with
     neo-Cyrillic... or as some say: proto-Greek revisionism...
       some words are familial... i can actually attest them
a phonetic synonymous that's familiar to the ear...
but the little words... remain with origin bound,
rather intact... only nouns get ***** to assimilate...
it's the little uh huh and um and om and
      so many in between that never reach cleansing
a tongue fully...
                  to be said: kinda slavish,
             archaic ***... *** that also said:
Commodus was one of the 5 good emperors...
    and was falsely depicted in gladiator (2000)...
and the *** invented stirrups to shoot arrows with
while quickly moving and suggesting a Mongol to come
along with the perfected idea of that: and pure stink
   of forgotten hygiene... memorised by
        the inflamed library of Baghdad and the pyramid
                 of Iraqi skulls...
the Romans made use of the calvary by employing
only eunuchs in their ranks... well... given no
stirrups... you're bound to make scrambled eggs
   along the ping-pong gallop...
       could ever a modern woman become a Helen?
perhaps a yacht might sail... instead of a thousand worries
to contest her husband's pride: a thousand quid...
  but it would never be such a gesticulation for
making worth of a woman to discredit a man...
            Kant said: i'll marry, only if i marry what i am
already married to... which is a transcendence of
what a man usually is married to... a woman...
  a man can marry his work...
                  it's either:
a. arbeit macht frei... or it's
                                   b. frau macht knecht...
well... it's sad... does it matter whether it's a universal
truth that has no guiding concern for
particular applicability and therefore a non-statistical
verification that splinters off a pathos of
  idealism all too readily accepted?
          and slogans avoid the details, i.e.
a. work power free
                          work empowers toward a freedom...
     is that the irony of suggesting
                                 that the Nubians built the pyramids
    and weren't the original air-coolers with their
   duck-feather fans and that the Jews profited from this?
as in
          b. woman power slave
                   women empower toward slavery...
sure... patted on the back and constantly bridging
gaps and licking lesions of man's struggle...
                       work "sets you" free...
                      and in that "      " bubble you can also have:
sets your apart from...
       sets you against....
                                  settles... the notion of freedom...
                   sets freedom... against you...
                                     so many variations of slogan grammar...
      well, akin to the 20th century shogun snail whipping
you into: ya, mein herr...
                                   and of course, there are the lucky few
that sorta revel in what otherwise are told to do:
            let me shove that remote control up yer ***,
and i'll make it less painful... i'll smear some lard
around your **** and you start pampering a bottle
of johnson & johnson baby powder...
      for a quest into averting the extinction of snow.

Deny it you might.
Except the truth stands out.
There will always be a mistress because some loves that role.

Someone fulfilling your pleasures as you fulfill theirs.
Yes, that's just the way it is.
Deny it you might.

There always be a racist with some point of view.
Some won't face the truth because the truth hurts to see.
That the race you speak negative about is now able to compete in achieving that American dreams.

Although that all men are created equal wasn't nothing but written words.
Because laws was created to hinder some men and and of course women.

Realize this.
We always be surrounded by fools that makes the wrong choice.
To be fooled once, we all can understand.
But multiple times, then we all begins to wonder.

There always a prisoner, as long , as there area profited crime.
We see them comes from all areas of life many of times.
Realize this.
These aren't just simple written words.

There always be a false prophet leading God's words.
And hard a sit might be to believe in society.
They still pushing forth His words to be heard.
We just need to seek, search to truly get God's message.

Realize truth and realize this.
There are more saints acting the sinner's role.
And like many honorable ministers they even get exposed.

Realize this ,more than any other thing.
There always be love to guide us and win out over hate.
Yes, the truth hurts.
Except comprehending it leads to kindness.

You may not want me to tell you about
The Galilean thermometer,
But I’m going to tell you anyway:
[It will improve your life!]

The GT is colorful – its rainbow
Of glass bubbles sparkle
Slowly as they sink and swim
Buoyantly in liquid.

Signor Galileo was savvy for his age
[Late Elizabethan],
Even though he didn’t shoot an
Apple off anybody’s head.

GG was one step ahead of Einstein
[Alphabetically]
As his popular theorem posited that
If  D↓, T↑.

This can be seen by ogling the GT
[Note the dog tags]
And checking to see if the blues
Are higher than the reds.

In Galilean terms the colors of the
Glass bulbs are unimportant
Since D is a function of the dog tags,
[Ma Nature dictates the T].

GG invented the GT because he had
A dream one day that
The climate in Pisa was warming up
[The tower began to lean].

Rising and falling as a result of density
Isn’t new to science:
[Jump in the neighborhood pool].
Ethanol in water.

GG’s heirs haven’t profited much from
the GT, nor has it been widely
copied by entrepreneurs of note:
[“slow and lazy”].

The verdict on the GT is still out, but
Early reports suggest it won’t
Exceed the popularity of the Chia Pet
As the holidays approach.


©  Lewis Bosworth, 6-2016

Life once meant something
You could later show your kids
So they could be proud of you
And all the good you did,
So they could grow and learn
And pass along the same way
When it came their turn to teach
Their children some fine day.

We learned to play with others
In back yards with few fences
And we laughed with immigrants
Like Borge and Señor Wences.
We stayed outside and played
With the kids of our neighbors.
Mom stayed home, Dad worked
And we profited from his labors.

We still had pride of who we were
And what we did during the war.
We knew what peace and freedom
And the Constitution were for.
Our country was the role model
For democracy doing it’s job
And we never thought our country
Would stoop at a chance to rob.

We were told if we worked hard
We could expect to do very well.
Never once was it hinted to us
That we would drop into a living hell.
We trusted that our leaders would
Continue to have our collective back.
But that was before those elected went
So egregiously far off the track.

It’s hard to remember this now,
Back then a forty hour situation
Was all it took to make our way
In our proud and righteous nation.
Now both parents must work at
Maybe two jobs each every day
In order for the family to succeed
Not like our parents used to say.

My morning feet ponder the pavement
Lonely eyes saluting the clouds
And the skyscrapers that grasp at the sky
The Tower of Babel
We reached god, and we branded him
Profited on his grace
So now we must build towers that shoot towards the sky
Like the twisting fingers of a falling man

So In These Days And Times....
That Are CLEARLY UNSTABLE... !?!

" Are YOU REALLY ABLE... ?!? "

To... NOT Tell Fables...
Like Those At Round Tables...
To Keep Your Life STABLE... !!?!!

As Well As YOUR MIND... ?!?

Because Minds I Now Find...
Tend To Be... INCLINED...
To Be... FAR From WISE... !!!

Which Is WHY We See CRIMES...
That Define The Word FATAL... !!!

MORE Than MOST Would Like... !!!

EVEN Some Who Are White...
Have Now RECOGNISED...
That Society... CRADLES...
... The Type of Guys...
Who Are Clearly UNABLE...
To Get Past The RACIAL...

Way That Their Thoughts...
Use Racist Sorts To ENABLE Wars... !!!

That Are QUICK To UNSTABLE...
... Foreign Shores... !!!!!!

So Now The ABLE Source...
... MORE Than Awards...
And Hip Hop Chords...
To Create A FORCE...
Like The One In STAR WARS...

Where The Empire Gets...
What It’s Looking For... !!!

A Force That Is ABLE...
To... END BETRAYALS.

That Are TRULY DISGRACEFUL...
As Well As... SHAMEFUL... !!!

Where... Saber Swords...
Cut Young Lives Short... !!!

Because They WEREN’T Able...
To See The DARK ANGELS...
... Creating A SWARM... !!!!

Like... Viruses Born...
That Have DISABLED Hoards... !!!

By LOCKING DOWN Zones...
ALL Around The GLOBE...
Like... NEVER BEFORE... !!!

So... Are YOU ABLE... ?
To Absorb The Thoughts...
of A Mind Like MINE... ?
That’s ABLE To Find...
The Type of Rhymes... ?

That ENABLE The RISE...
of DIFFERENT Knights...
To... Arthur’s Type... !!!

Because They’re NOT WHITE...
Or With... Skin That’s LIGHT... !!!

That’s RIGHT It’s DARK KNIGHTS...
That I Have Designed Who I’m On About...
Who Have LYRICAL CLOUT... !!!

UNLIKE Their DRONES...
And ATTACKING Clones... !!!

So NOT The Knights Who Are Those...
of The... HONOUR KIND...

Those With MBE’s And CBE’s...
Who Seem HAPPY To Receive...
Awards From The Queen of A FAMILY...

Who Have PROFITED From...
BRUTALITY That’s Used SLAVERY...

I Mean... SERIOUSLY...
AREN’T They ABLE To See...

The... HYPOCRISY... !!!

of These Heads Who Now Seem...
To Be ABLE To SPEAK...
About The... RACISM...
With Which They’ve Been Living...

Well... APPARENTLY... ?!?

But... ONLY After Taking...
That’s Right... A KNEE... !!!

To... Receive PRAISE...
From A Place That HATES...
To Embrace A DARK FACE... !!!

UNLESS They’ve Made...
THEMSELVES A Way To Gain Some Fame...

That Has Made Their Name...
ABLE To.... CLAIM....

The Awards That They Take...
At THAT Buckingham Place... !!!
Who... NOW Seem ABLE...
To SUDDENLY EXPLAIN...

That The Jews Are BAD... !!!

When It’s THEY Who’ve ENABLED...
Them... GETTING CONTRACTS...?!?

And... COLONIAL Cash...
FLASH Cars And Nice Pads... !!!

Oh... But Of Course...
I Really Shouldn’t Say THAT !!!

Because Their Tables...
ONLY Seat BLACKS... !!!

Which Is The Kind of Chat...
That DISMISSES THE FACTS... !!!

But... THAT RIGHT THERE...
Is A... TOUCHY SUBJECT... !!!

So That’s Where I’ll END...
This... Simple Poem... !!!

That Tells NO FABLES...
But Does DISABLE...
Those Making CLAIMS...

That They’re TURNING TABLES... ?!?

Because Me I’m Like CABLE...
A... Time Travelling ANGEL... !!!

But WHO Nowadays Can STAKE A CLAIM...
To REALLY UNSTABLE...

...... “ Societies Cradle “...... ?!?

If You’re Thinking THAT’s YOU... !!!

I JUST HAVE To ASK...

“Are YOU REALLY ABLE ?”....

i am carrying two stomachs
two hearts
and two minds to control it all
perhaps my mother was right.
perhaps theres a **** good gemini
ripping all my organs into pairs.

i feel a raging world within
the confines of my burnt skin,
split into two:
one suppressed and raw
one orderly and profited

i make bank, i solicit myself on my own
put togetherness

and sometimes, i want to delve deeply
and watch as everything collapses around
the sturdy bones that hold it all up
and the facade slowly melts around
the fact that i am something else,
writhing and squirming to be seen
just under the skin

Captain Obvious non-profundititties:

The same individuals, families, groups, institutions, organizations, governments,
and foundations that fund and profit from the research, development, and manufacture of weapons/arms/firepower, and that spark wars with propaganda, sloganeering, and social moral tribalism in general, profit greatly from the use of bombs that damage cities.

That same Apex power structure gains massive profits from the rebuilding of the damaged cities and from the modification of socioeconomic platforms and systems, and profited gravely from the genesis of those cities in the first place.

Apex power uses a middleman saviour syndrome power structure within Crisis Management Economics to perpetually keep the peasants divided against each other in groups that achieve groupthink psychic phenomena within an overall state of inner hyper-conflict, guilt, shame, uncertainty, and neurotic fear. The Apex power structure has three main nexus points that are the Unholy Trinity:

The Vatican: Spiritual (variants of ******, an ancient concept, require spirituality/Occult and quasi-science to merge with the pre-existing centralization and monopolization of authority and corporation spawned via fascism)

City of London/The Crown Corporation: World Bank driven global economy

Washington D.C.: Military and hyper-surveillance/Big Tech

The Sun Tzu saviors play good cop/bad cop in slow-boil, two faces on the same Judas coin lying and flipping at the bottom of the ***. Both sides have the concentration camps. Both sides push dope but gaslight kids for using drugs. Both sides engage in non-consensual **** on many different levels. Both sides are directly connected to 72+% of all negative pollution, and gaslight the poorest to supposedly help fix the problem with giving money to the entities that **** Earth. Both sides sell arms/weapons to all sides, and both sides obviously don't want the peasants to know how the world functions and operates.

Strange, when elderly white males speaks, they uses comparison without total truth.

You can't compare Asians to Blacks but you do.
It's like comparing those that gained more from segregation cause of fools. stupidity.

Of all races, which seem more fearful?

Wrongs, ever done.
Must face consequences to come.
For eventually truth will emerges, you're the root of many ills.

Of all races, which seem more fearful?

Not all groups are the same in society.
But before offering opinions, as a older person.

Realize, you profited off all other races to get ahead.

Cheating or stealing people land.
Manipulating still to stay ahead.

Then, this is just a segment of truth.
Be careful of who you comparing any race too.

Yes, and this go for me.
Cause in my eyes, we ALL are guilty.

title: scandal tilt
body: porous: per & marie 2019:
simultaneously: preserved...

wow!

on my way back from a shift at Craven Cottage... walked through the park with great haste, sweat like a pig prior to slaughter when sitting down on the District Line from Putney Bridge to Victoria... still wearing my jacket... upon disembarking the train, took the jacket off... breathed... allowed my sweaty back to breathe, took off my clip-on tie, undid about three button from the collar down... well... i've been told before that i'm as hairy as a monkey... hairy face, hairy chest, hairy stomach... a Turkish ******* would never mind... we only travelled two stops from Victoria through to Oxford Circus... i have to write the following word in katakana... what... a *******... スカ - SUKA... *****... a female-dog... what's the ideogram of that katakana? no... it's not that simple... SUKA... thank god i was wearing my sunglasses... the Thames bore these two holes for my eyes with the glimmer of the sun being reflected come sunset... i asked my co-worker: Putney Bridge is not the last bridge of... the first bridge of London? he mentioned: isn't there one at Hammersmith? isn't there one at Richmond: i replied? favourite bridge? oh... you that film: from the 1990s... Sliding Doors... the Battersea Bridge? no no... not the Battersea Bridge... that white one, with all those Christmas Lights... it's the Albert Bridge... sure... we know the last Bridge of London is the Tower Bridge... but what bridges are there after Putney?! oh... we're not going into Oxfordshire or... Kingston-upon-Thames... **** that... London, proper... **** me... the map on google reads like some Arabic text: right to left... weird... what comes after Putney... see... when i was living in Edinburgh... at least i knew my bearings... there it was... the shining emblem of the compass... the Firth of Forth... down in London? it's a ******* Bermuda triangle! the ****** just spins and spins... people come from all other i'm like: yeah... "that"... that's not supposed to be there but... "there"...  clueless... sure as ****... after Putney Bridge you get the Hammersmith Bridge... then the Chiswick Bridge... then the Kew Bridge... then the Twickenham Bridge... that's the last proper bridge on the map... London will forever be too disorientating... at least Edinburgh is facing north... London isn't facing any direction on the compass... it just... spins out of control... so i got on the Victoria line at Victoria... two *******... one looking somewhat tame... the other... ooh... what a treat... we were only going as far as Oxford Circus... red hair... some of her's some fake... tattoos on her hands and fingers... she looked like she had piercing in her cheeks in the past... just my type: crazy... unhinged... daddy issues: whatever... and i''m standing there, tired... dead-beat... i just want to get home and drink some whiskey and scribble... about my triumph while helping a few boys sell cookies and brownies for charity by changing around their stall arrangement... because i wasn't put into the stadium to shove a lot of lard around... i'm peering through my sunglasses... oh... wait... she's digging me... oh right... she's one of those girls into the Scandinavian look? oh god, one of these ones... only hours prior i was talking to this Finnish grandfather about sports in general... i'm giving off these whiffs of Viking "beauty"... **** me: and i know what i'm goign to say next: that sort of physiognomy always attracts the happy-tattooed-hands and fingers red hair types of *******... right? where they **** is my ******* Mohawk then?! where the **** are my tattoos... i mean... i've seen dogs with eyes like these... eagerly brown and blooming with joy... any other scenario... we got off at Oxford Circus... i waited a little... she just about ****** off down the North Bakerloo route... i spotted her... obviously... she tried to give a shy glance back: would i follow her... ask her for her number... she had the most amazing: inquisitive eyes... i know... she wanted me to approach her... one of those... magical movie scenes... two strangers on the tube... blah blah... if work didn't **** me off... if i didn't have to make up for it on my own crowds from something within like: self-initiative... just my-******-up-type... no... i went down the Central Line route... travelled to Stratford... got the train to Goodmayes... bought a bottle of 200cl of brandy... some pepsi... some cigarettes... and walked past Chadwell Heath... thinking... about absolutely nothing... well... the "one that god away"... sure... it's not even whether i have the patience... i obviously have the charm... but i know how the conversation would have started and ended... so... you still don't live alone? you don't have a place for me to crash... bring all my belongings to? guess... what... what she said with her eyes... perfect! what she would later say with her tongue? no, i don't want to hear it... beccause i'd be her stereotypical loser... so... why... ******* bother? with those eyes of hers i also received: twice-more with the eyes of the boys i helped to collect more money from selling charity cookies in the park... oh **** me: more! because it was selfless! there was no ******-friction involved!  sure, i could try to rekindle my self (in the reflective, not the reflexive: myself... sense... no... that's long gone... i've aged, i've learned some pretty good lessons of reserve) with a teenage boy i used to be, who would fall asleep listening to Roxette... fading like a flower, watercolours in the rain, blah blah... but this... what's that film? Happiness of a Spotless Mind? Jim Carrey... crazy free spirited girl with red or purple or blue hair... sure... and if, myself, didn't go mad aged 21... entering a church... hearing a choir and then hear a great wind disperse the singing... sure... right now... aged 35... i'd be a proper career-boy... not caring about the lesser people in me... status-orientated... i would easily pick-up these wacko girls left right and centre... and give them a month's worth of... living out the Pretty Woman fantasy... no.. instead i have a personal library in my ivory tower of a bedroom in my parent's house filled with Heidegger's black notebooks... oh man... but this one... she had prettier eyes than an Alsatian's... she gave off whiffs of surprise... could she love me, like i am? torn? perhaps... i forgot to make a reality-check-cheque in my head... better this fleeting interaction... she... infatuated: me indifferent... at least in the moment... obviously now i think about it... sure... some, "alternative" universe... where... we might live an affordable living in... the ******* Shetland Islands caretaking a lighthouse! but my life hasn't been all that predictable to find more unpredictability all of a sudden... some exercise in a vitality for / of life... i just need little pockets of being acknowledged by the other as being recipient of existence... that usually comes along with children and handicapped people... or animals... these three categories always spot me... if i were ******* rising in the hierarchy of the truly insane-sane folk... i'd have to be as mad as a poodle-or-a-toddler's-worth-of-Mozart! ****'s sake... no no no... i'm not buying that trip! **** that... i'm going my own way... to a place where the moon is a skull in the coldness of the night, and come April... there is a whiff of a Magnolia scent in the air! i call it trans-temporal pairing to some cue to a clue to this puzzle... but this one... my god... eyes like a properly bred Alsatian... so endearingly brown... she looked like a teenage girl for a second's worth of flash of time... she just looked so ****** up... like a puzzle box... and with all that make-up she slapped up... Madam Tussauds' replicas saw less... what's the retrospect? i? i'm scared of reality? last time i heard: i've been the one most detached from it... why would i be afraid of reattaching myself to it? the only reality i find comforting is... when i'm surrounded by children, retards or animals... i consider plants as inanimate objects, so no... other thoughts... mother's arthritis... a father coming to the conclusion of this career... nearing retirement... their mortality... my mortality... cinema movie love stories are sort of gone... reality doubles-down... no one was truly with me when i needed help... ergo? i helped myself the best i could... and... i don't need loved-up pretend hitch-hickers... how authentic it might seem... at least when i visit a brothel... no ******* is going to say: oh... another loser... how are losers treated in those Japanese love-hotels because of over-crowding, no-house-building "claustrophobia"?

on my way back from a shift at Craven Cottage...
tired... left the house at quarter to 9am...
came back.. at 8:30pm...
and did what? only a 6 hour shift... got paid...
hmm... good idea... i don't even know...
capitalism... whoever defends it ought to know
that there are rogue companies out there...
the current company i'm working for...
i'm supposedly an employee...
   but... they have... since November of last year...
yet to issue me with a statement to clarify
how many hours i've worked and what i'm to be paid...
they just... transfer money into my bank account:
without any: black on white clarification...
i've already heard stories about the owner and co-owner...
how they profited from the pandemic...
little pawn me... a year... i just need a year...
to get those references... even today i started talking
to this guy about joining another company...
at least that company has an online rubric in place:
where you can book in electronically
rather than rely on some bogus whatsapp messaging...
******* cowboys... meat-heads... the whole lot
of them... no logistical sensibility...
but i've done it since November... i'll wait...
i'm patience... i'll play nice... but today...
oh today was coming... they're behaving like it's
a ******* schoolyard... i'm being punished for having
mentioned already having a university education:
oh god! and a degree in chemistry!
some are studying pretend-law... or whatever *******...
or they have known each other for a bit longer...
or that i'm not talkative: professional... while they
stab each other in the back... or...
i fancy this one girl who started work...
rumours spread that a supervisor is ******* her...
but i approach her with flowers on Valentine's day...
she gets fired... i get sidelined...
          oh i know my place... it's a place that's
called the waiting game...
         but today i was *******... less capable people
were put into positions within the stadium...
me? again: to the ******* park with you...
some might say: oh... he's ben given the easy shift...
yeah... the ****** shift...
   i made due counters... i had to...
by the end of the game a ginger colt that was
ejected during the game... drunk... had nothing better
to do than to sleep in the park... i tended to him...
woke him up... waited with him for his friends to rejoin
him... so half-asleep... i comforted him with:
you team (Coventry) beat Fulham 3 - 1... happy?
he replied... why do all the best games happen when
i'm asleep? well... this must have been the first
in a park in London... you're lucky it was a gorgeous day...
but my pinnacle came when i helped these boys
who were selling homemade bakes for charity...
NSPCC... £1 a pop... but they weren't selling them...
because they position their stall right behind a tree...
so i walked up to them... listen...
you're not going to sell them... you're hiding behind
a tree... here... let's move this stall of yours...
away from the tree... and closer to the route of leaving
fans... and let's also twist the table a little so...
your BAKED-GOODS for CHARITY is facing
the people walking out of the stadium...
    i finished my shift... would you know it...
             from about 30 unsold pieces of dough...
the boys had only 2 left...
           and how they thanked me...
   fine... FINE... if this steward contra SIA hierarchy
is in place... ******* wanks...
i'll do a better job elsewhere... pacifying people...
after all... all those with those SIA badges... licenses...
oh... they know **** all of judo...
they just rush overpower: art of ****...
   first comes the art of reason...
much much later comes any physical interference...
but i'm working with half-wits...
  just because some are bulging... have a voiced-prowess...
gorilla-mating-call-warfare i call it...
they think they have a license to: attend to doors
they build up this superiority-complex...
which is great... i might therefore ask:
not that i have a PhD... but... if you're going to belittle me...
do you have a degree in chemistry?
just today... i picked up a high-viz. orange...
later it was changed to black... i picked up one with
the word: supervisor on it... because it fitted me:
2XL... oh no no... one of the other pawns inquired...
you can't wear that... but it's black...
i was told to change from orange to black...
but this one has the word: SUPERVISOR written on
it... my god... how people have learned to overvalue
themselves... or rather: how have become become
undervalued that they have to have these little battles...
the war is already lost...
whatever ******* Einstein figured this one out...
so at the end of the shift we're about to stand down...
me and my "mate" are park 3... we're looking for park 2...
right... and we're all wearing black vests... black trousers...
black coats... the crowd that's leaving?
well... you know how the English dress...
hardly in the United Colours of Benetton...
or the old way that GAP used to attire people: colourfully...
so... i'm looking for a black moth
among a cloud of dark grey moths... great!
******* genius! like i said:
i'm working with ******* meat-heads...
i'd like to say retards but they are too bulky and too angry
and too ready to stance themselves as BIG
rather than arm themselves with cunning...
o.k. o.k. work... but i got the upper hand...
i helped those boys sell those cookies... cakes... whatever...
out of their stash... we just moved the table away
from the tree... shifted it so the sign was more apparent
and... hey presto! NSPCC got its fair share...
and... my reward? the sweetest thank you any man
can receive... the outstanding look on a young boys face
that a stranger is capable of helping (him)...
that's ******* priceless... i'm writing about all those
petty squabble prior... but... that thank you:
that look of longing for hope in the future...
that's mine... i own that... or that tenderness of
the drunk boy who was sleeping in the park
waiting for the game to finish... while i gentle touched
his leg to wake him up... that too...
i don't need physical confrontation when i can:
appease... comfort... all those adrenaline junkies...
those... amphetamine-anabolic-steroid: former prison
guard types... whatever...
i know one decent move that could floor anyone...
you make a cross with your thumbs... while pretending
to pray... with these hands... you grip someone
by the knuckles... pressing the thumbs into the hand...
and twist... i forgot martial art i learned that from...
i left the classes after i was kicked in the *****...
and curled into a foetal position: after i refused to:
shout HA-YA! when pretending to punch and throwing
kicks while marching forward...
****** lessons in martial arts... getting kicked in the *****...
but... i write this... like...
like i will never go to the gym and pump weights...
just give me 2 hours on a bicycle...
doing some press-ups...
and once the shift it gone... having being paired
with this "mate" of mine:
he'll reply: it was nice working with you...
and you sort of know it's almost...
when he tries to sell you an alternative
job to the current you're working at...
because... it's "CAPITALISM":
   i too heard... didn't you hear?
if you have the right sort of a microphone...
and you put it up to a dog's *******
when the dog's running...
you can... hear... ******* the tune of:
jingle-bells!
didn't you know?!
   esp. that version from Lethal Weapon...
      one ****, count one two...
two's a ****'s worth... three and four and by five:
grr... what's not to love about
life and all the arguments for the status quo
of all those people that always go ahead
and gear up the tide of: away away we go:
leaving the rest of the idiots behind...
           tear-jerking psychologists with an audience
of soft-cookie:
those types that ought to be hard-on
digestives... instead... they get dunked into tea...
i burp... what... a cushion my crap and crab
on the inside out...
rather than harden it with the exoskeleton
of the outside in...
            little ******* London adventure of... perhaps
Romance... but... most probably:
probably not.

i mean: you know how the joke goes?
when you diagnose someone as having lost touch
with reality?
and then... too many people have lost touch with reality?
the supposed loss of reality of the individual...
transpires like a phantom: clout...
why were people supposing that, "i" became detached
from reality?! huh?! why are these people
wearing pseudo-niqab nappies on their faces
when almost pretending to be: trainspotting?!
huh?!
           i'm schizophrenic... what about all these...
covert... hidden... undiagnosed hyperchondriacs?
i thought i was just a bilingual...
oh... right... the mono-lingual normies of England...
sure... "we" can follow-up with that...
"you" try to destroy "me"...
"we'll" come after "you":
gender neutral? one's a ROYAL:
one and we...
                anything to: bypass the ******* rap!
investment from years... years ago...
always invest in children...
you never know when they'll come around to
protect you against the elders
or... more importantly...
your contemporaries...
                always invest in children...
         their presence is a future forward:
kinder:
      immer invertieren im kinder...
   ihr(e) gegenwart ist ein zukunft: ein fließen!
i'm guessing...
unlike in Deutsche...
a(n) apple... savvy?

           i truly wish... i truly... want to believe
beyond the told ties of the heart to:
all the discomforts of reality checks...
that i could possibly come to the splendours of
illusion on a whim:
and keep such whims within the confines
of illusion... without having to have to reality
check them back with...
items of "reciprocated" gratitude...
for the "good life"... oh what a sweet little whisper...
and... if i were a painter...
what a Francis Bacon horror i would possibly
conjure with the aid of cubism...
such trivial times are beyond us...
dog have eyes and the levelled certainty as such...
women just have the spontaneity...
there's no Bonaparte behind them...
no suicide quest for Moscow... no... chains and harship...
believe whatever psychologists you want...
pop, piquant... whatever... piquant: i.e. niche...
whatever... no one helped me through my 20s...
now in my mid 30s...
i've finally reached a pinnacle of being attractive...
during transit... but i know it's all a veneer...
behind my visage there ought to be some
******* miraculous story where...
i'd probably invite her back to my flat...
where i live alone... blah blah...
                i own too many books...
   i prefer the safety net of prostitutes...
at least they love me for the way i **** them...
with the intensity of the moment...
i posit: carpe diem... and make an hour last
a certainty... i don't need this *******'s worth
of timid courtship... no thank you...
i waited long enough... i waited too long...
no more...
              i'm done... i'm going to brush my "Greek" nose
up a little more... with arrogance and say...
when i needed you? you weren't there...
now... that you might, perhaps want me?
no... i don't need you...
           you know what i really need?
strangers! i need to interact with as many people
as possible! i can't be bothered with living a life
for some... exclusive relationship!
i need... the most inclusive: selfless relationship!
a... motto akin to:
liebe für das volk!
               if not in Deutsche... then in Latin?

AMOR ENIM POPULUS!

who else? who else can one love?
if one has been denied the excusive rights to love a woman
in one's youth?
as one ages... being denied such a right?
one can only grow to abound in loving:
the people! how else is one to survive?
   what? the same old: "missing"... "mythological":
"exclusive": female?
learn from Adolf ******! LIEBE DAS VOLK!
                  you haven't been given exclusive rights
to counterpart individual...
and... to be honest... inclusivity is stressed by both
status of wife / bus-driver in terms of how
universality is to be expressed on the ground:
all are to be treated equally...
alles ar zu sein behandelt gleichermaßen,
id est: gott! mit! uns!

             i have no one to love... i truly do, not,
so why... keep myself deluded in some...
waiting game of exclusivity?!
   why not freely pass into a medium of selfless
inclusivity?! why... not love: as freely...
and as painfully... as a sparrow might...
the dawn of spring... and the midnight or some:
forgotten hour(s): to come...
    i'm too old to find exclusive love...
to pair-bond... i'm too old... i know the frosty bite
of reality... but at least i can love inclusively...
like a Jesus Christ... like an Adolf ******...
what?! they're... that ******* far apart?! i don't...
*******... ****-ing... think so...
       i'm more comfortable with inclusive love-affairs
where i can be forever pillar... cold...
less-spoken that could be expected...
    my 20s... i never had them...
                    my 30s just about returned...
and now i'm interacting with people in their 40s
and 50s... and all i have in my mind is...
a cat... in musketeer type of boots...
kicking a rat into a sewer... why?
because... that's seems... just about... GERECHT!

Racism
That hatred within others ethnics in America won't be eradicated anytime soon.
We of all countries have various groups with views.

What to be acknowledged?
Is no one group is supreme to another?
Yes, we can elevate ourselves into thinking it?

Except some will have to admit they profited from laws suited for them to cheat ahead.

It just us.
Stupid Americans not coming together for humanity.

Jim Crow helps one stay a force during it reign of segregation.
Still they no better.

Culturalization of heritage assists others to be more conservative in this world.

They fall under this "let's not rock the boat" mentality.

Except it's just us.
Stupid Americans afraid to adjust and love one another.

yesterday's cycling session broke me, perhaps not so much
the cycling as having cycled to the former village of
Wennington: oh **** me... this is sad...
it's not like wild fires on the news in California or
in Spain or Greece... this is right on my doorstep -
well... i felt pity: not guilt... i don't own a car...
                      it's pointless owning a car in London...
the public transport network is just too good
and owning a car is too expensive...
        plus i can go anywhere on a bicycle... i can skip
traffic... i: don't have to pay insurance...
i don't have to pay road tax... i don't have to pay
for an m.o.t. and i don't have to worry about breaking
down... just flat tyres from time to time:
and the odd crash... touch wood...
i only had one... but it was all my fault... i was drunk
and lost control of the bicycle while trying to avoid
a pothole...
               but it was still a great experience... falling
over the handlebars must have looked something
of a Francis Bacon painting... smudges of movement...
a black eye... a massive wound on the forehead
and on the cheek... a skid bruise on the forearm
and a massive bruise on the right leg with a mount
of an incision: a garden of lavender and plus around
it of dead blood...
                          spectacular, absolutely spectacular:
crashing like that on a bicycle...
   at work there's this girl: Harini - the law student...
the one who kept on nagging me
about how there are too many white judges...
   too many white judges... in England? or was she talking
about barristers? either way... i tell her:
as long as a system of meritocracy is in place...
then what has race got to do with it?
   equity, right? the equality of opportunity not
the equality of outcome, no?
a variation of natural selection - the most naturally
gifted at X ought to do X...
anyway she once rode those electric scooters...
but fell off... and she never went back on riding it...
*****... literally... how do these people live any life
worth contentment?
          would i give up my passion for cycling
just because of one crash?
                                    fat chance... sure...
the first time after the crash i was shaky...
                                     shaky ******* Stevens...
at one point a pain came back to all the areas mentioned:
and a headache too...
then again... as the saying goes...
drunks have the GPS implants of birds...
        and they also fall like sacks of potatoes,
meaning: they hardly break anything...
two examples...
1) the GPS of drunks...
                 i unexpectedly booked a flight to Athens...
don't ask... i was having one of those psychotic episodes...
which is sort of like a panic attack
   but a psychotic attack is a panic attack
     in reverse... you crave adrenaline to suppress it...
and unlike a panic attack which is localised on the spot
and in the moment... a psychotic attacks takes you places
and can last for days as you build up more
and more adrenaline from doing something very
unfamiliar... i flew to Athens... i spent the night
crying in Hyde Park (what the **** am i doing?
i don't know what i am doing) - then went to Gatwick
Airport in the morning... took a shower in the airport
bought new clothes in fat-face and ****** off...
  arrived in Athens... found a ****** hostel in the worst
part of Athens: one Diogenes of Sinope after another...
(bums, homeless philosophers)...
opened that bottle of absinthe and sat down on
the street... i remember... with my left hand i covered
my eyes and with my right hand i was pointing
at something... and laughing my socks off...
magpie-type cackling... maybe it was the absinthe
or maybe i was seeing something:
proud Greek with their expensive-pension
economies... ha...
            ****... what year must it have been?
     i was supposed to be working on the Olympic village
for the 2012 Olympics.... i'm guessing 2010 or 2011...
just before the Greek financial crisis emerged on
the global scale of being known about...

second day? i go into this market square and sit in a cafe
and start chatting to strangers...
turns out i'm going to join them in going to a *******...
mind you: i'm still in psychotic mode...
this could go either way... bad for me... or bad for them...
if they're lying, that is...
            complete strangers... just met them...
hmm... when in Greece you never really know if you're
talking to someone who's Greek...
some are pale in complexion while others look like
Syrians, Arabs... then again: this was my first time in
Greece so i shouldn't have expected to know what
the average Greek looks like: complexion and all...

so we get into the car... just outside the Parliament
and we drive acres and acres out of the city centre...
it must have been at least 30 minutes...
i had drank some of my absinthe prior: left over from
the night... we enter the *******...
oh man... my first time... i've been to brothels before...
strip clubs... a strange aura...
                  completely different... more teasing...
drinks... yep... immediately a girl walks up to me
and places a green plastic circle next to my glass...
what's this? well: now i do know: "green light"...
   for a private dance / something more...
    at least i knew that i was broke... i was broke...
i had about £30 in my bank account (funny... now i have
an emergency £3000)
                   but i'm like: i'm sort of enjoying the
show that's already costing me £5 a drink...
but she sticks around, we start chatting...
   then another older stripper gets involved...
blah blah this blah blah that...
                 i catch the eye of a third: the look she gave?
i will remember for the rest of my life...
it was not a scornful look, nor angry...
i was already burying my face in the older strippers
chest with her giggling: two on my arms
and a third looking on...
                   one of the guys that came in me kept
nagging me for money for drinks:
i said i have none...
until it hit me... i reached point £0...
            my card was denied...
                               credit card? me? me and a credit card
only met once... once upon a time...
when i was a kid and had my bank account set up...
credit cards are so ******* annoying: at least
that's what i found...
         you pay for something...
  and then... wait for a month to get the bill...
sure... credit in the form of a mortgage i can understand...
it's just credit cards i don't understand...
i only work with debit...
      i spend what i have rather than have what
i shouldn't have spent money on...
so anyway... this bouncer escorts me to the nearest
cash machine...
    as i tell him: to get some cash out...
i get the ******* escort and all (i said that already,
i know) to a hotel... he ***** off to talk to the concierge
while i fiddle a bit at the cash machine...
then... i start ******* myself...
          ah... the sort of "sobering" ******...
i look where the bouncer is and... leg it...
literally speedy Gonzales it out of there... or did i just
sneak out? memory: fuzzy... perfect when it
comes to a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e truths like 2 + 2 and spelling
but memory from experience? fuzzy... fiddly...
anyway... first time in Athens... no map...
nothing... zilch... i don't know how i managed
to get back to the hostel with the already disgraceful
fact that i ****** myself...
     i was thinking: oh... ****... this bouncer is going
to bring me into an alley and beat the **** out of me:
wrong... working on a debit system means you
can't overstep the mark... i didn't own anyone
in the ******* any money: i was bad-money free...
but that's the point a drunk has a GPS like birds
have when migrating...
                    that's why i won't stop drinking...
it's too good for my brain... and the liver i can box
around with... but how the hell did i manage
to find my way back to the hostel when the car trip
was like 30 minutes long... we must have been doing
(on average) around 40 km/h that's 20km (circa)...
in the end i stayed one more night in Athens...
no... i didn't visit the Acropolis... i had it in plain sight...
i liked the fact that it remained on the hill
and i was down below: some things are best kept
forbidden... but i did manage to write some poetry
in the hostel...
    i then emailed my uncle and asked him for enough
money for a bus ticket... from Athens... via coach
to Katowice... through Macedonia, Serbia...
  Hungary... Czech Republic...
           and then to my grandparent's house...
where: finally the psychotic attack was soothed
by reading a book or two and talking with my grandfather...


2) drunks fall like sacks of potatoes...
my godmother had this anecdote... she was sitting
on the balcony of her flat... she heard
a whizz of air and a thump on the ground...
apparently one drunk was locked out of his house
by his wife... he tried to get in through the balcony
having climbed the roof and descending
from the 10th floor to the 7th... well: when there's
an "oops" like that... he fell... 7 floors...
what's that? 30 metres?
                he fell like a sack of potatoes...
like that Salman Rushdie opening where Satan
is falling head first and careless... while Gabriel
is falling trying to invent wings flapping and crazy...
probably feet first trying to be: SUPER-CAT...
catch a rhythm of the flapping hope to land on all 4s?
it gets me every time i replay that memory in my head...
the way she dropped the punch-line:
i like my godmother... i don't see her frequently /
not at all... but she's a heavy drinker too...
intelligence... it burdens the mind sometimes...
we need to slow down...
she's a doctor i'm a poo-et...
                        anyway... so she hears this whizz in the air
and a thumb... the ****** landed
   about 10cm from a metal pike... in some bushes...
7 ******* floors... he gets up and utters the words
'o kurva' (i.e. oh ****)... and walks off...
that's a bit like me and my cycling "accident"...
a guy got out of his car and ran up to me
bandaged my head while i was figuring out
why my hands were red (from touching my forehead):
two old women screaming...
i was asked if they should call the ambulance...
gladly they mistook my drunk-state for a state-of-shock...
i was like: no no.... but thank you...
i walked off... came home and took the best
medical advice available: self-prescribed (of course)
i.e. sleep...

i sometimes wonder why i'm not your stereotypical drunk...
i drink to hyper-focus on something...
i never get angry... well... i get angry at things:
because they're so ignoble... then again:
defining what a "thing" is hard when dealing
with a well-crafted table or a chair...
i don't actually know how to define "things"...
even "nothing" is a "thing"...
            the supposed "nothing" is a gateway to antimatter...
i suppose the closest "thing" to a THING
is what's an abstraction in the distance...
something you pass at speed that you: don't necessarily
ignore but don't take a concentrated account of:
you don't focus on it... ah! i know the best
example of what a "thing" is...
esp. in a gallery... looking at a painting hanging
on a wall... that's perfect... the wall is a THING...
because you're actually looking at a painting...
mind you... i appreciate all the classical paintings
of the Renaissance... but... you can't see any brush-strokes...
i like paintings where brush strokes are
visible: it's painting then: it's not geometry riddling...
painting by way of insinuating the idiosyncracy
of the hand by leaving several if not dozens of "accents"...
that's why i compared my cycling crash
to Francis Bacon's paintings...
                         well, sure: because the theme of the macabre
also helps... as did his ****-erotica...
and the drinking...
thank **** i'm not a loser drunk that needs
to drink to pronounce some averse trait of masculinity...

better for me being this loved up fool
with a GPS of birds migrating in my head
and a body that behaves like a sack of potatoes
when any harm should come to its bones...
i fall like a cube... a sack of potatoes...
anyway...
         can i imagine living a life that...
like this coworker suggested: oh no, no no...
one fall... i'm not getting back on the electric scooter...
*****...
          then again: cycling is my passion:
i hate runners... those arithmetic arthritis wonders
of the world: jelly-knees i call them:
if you're going to run! run on grass!
and mind you: if the "mob" should ever come for me...
they better not be driving cars...
cars make no sense in London...
too expensive...

                        now... the pivot... i have an 8am appointment
with my hairdresser tomorrow...
i needed to start drinking early so i could write
this and go to bed by 12am...
i'm coming to the ****** and i don't want
to come to the ******...
  the heat-wave is over... i can finally breathe...
ah... i think that's how you write...
or begin writing...
                all those very important people
and all their very important "autobiographies":
let's face it... ghost-written while still alive...
   i guess biographies make more sense...
i think fame, in the truest sense is a testimony
of post-mortem...
    i don't believe in fame in one's own lifetime...
i think fame is something akin to
what's most temporal: what can be passed on...
what employs being passed on for so long
that the name most associated with...
for example...

who invented Champagne? Dom Perignon...
ha ha... back in Poland we were taught
the French song:
frèe jacques:
        
frère Jacques
frère Jacques
dormez vous?
dormez vous?
sonnez les matines
sonnez les matines
ding ding ****
ding ding ****

                 it's a burning memory... like watching
Cartoon Network... when it was... good...
i don't believe in a fame of the living...
the dead are proper dealers in this concept...
fame... how people strive for fame...
whether through good or through ill done against
others... because fame doesn't escape
the muddling of good & evil...
the fame and the infamy...

i was broken yesterday... i know how much i ****
off women's football but i still ended up watching
England play... who did they play?
never mind... they won...
i was going to watch the Sweden vs. Belgium match...
but i thought... if i had a hairdresser appointment
at 8am tomorrow... i need to be asleep by 12am...
go get up at 7am and shower and blah blah...
then i have to go to the Turk to get my beard
and moustache trimmed...
but i'm still not watching football...
i'm watching Tom-Boys with long socks
and hair dangling pretend something...
sure... there's some green of a football pitch...
but i'm not watching the football...
weird... when i watch female athletics or female
tennis i'm watching athletics and tennis...
   for whatever my opinions i have:
i'll watch... what the hell...
at least it's more interesting than some ******
Hollywood movie based on a comic...
or an overtly existential meditation that came
too many years too late: since we covered the outpouring
of Bergman...

now...

    there's the thief... the burglar and the opportunist....
there's this Slavic motto:
znaleziony nie skradziony...
found not stolen...
i operate this maxim...
when it comes to money...
i have found a £20 banknote on the street one...
i have £10 banknotes once or twice...
i've found pounds... i've also found pennies...
would i be stupid enough to find such devaluating /
evaluating / re-evaluating "things"
(money, that's another "thing" in my gallery
of "things" that i can't place... justly...
Nietzsche was attempting to write
his magnum opus: the trans-valuation
of values before going south of cuckoos...
money is one "thing": am actual "thing" is another...
i find a £20 banknote? i'm keeping it...
found / lost ergo not stolen...
the principle of luck...
i could have spared the man the agony of
crafting ideas about a simple answer to his question
about trans-valuation... money! no ditto!)

i've been a thief before... i managed to steal a compact
disk record from a shop...
Queens of the Stone Age's song for the deaf...
i was sly... but this was different...
i was tired from cycling... i bought a bottle of whiskey
and a bottle of Lukozade... berry: ******* merry...
at the self-service outlet... ooh... what's this?
someone left the newest version of
either a Samsung or an Apple smartphone...
is it at 10.3 or whatever the hell it is at?
lucky me... i need a new phone...
so i grabbed it... it was just lying there...
packed my rucksack...

well... i didn't steal it! it was just lying there!
but i don't need a new smartphone...
i just don't want the one i own to **** up on me...
i honestly don't remember the last time i topped up...
i have £0.75 on my account and i'm still using it...
each peddling started to weigh down on me:
if it was money i wouldn't have cared...
if i found money: like i sometimes found money
i wouldn't give two fivers-worth-of-***** for
anyone who lost them: the idea behind money
is that it's transactional...
they taught us the wrong lessons in school,
e.g.: what would you do if you found a briefcase
of money on a street? was it bribery money?
was it ransom money? it's ******* money...
might as well be leaves of a tree come autumn...
money? i'm ******* keeping it..
no morals... no: no nien niet nie!

but here i am with this... £1000+ smartphone...
i ****** it... start cycling home....
i get this numbing headache without an ache...
i remember the time a former "fwend" of mine went to court over
a stolen phone...
how i helped him but he didn't help himself
therefore didn't help me...
what prompted me?
the phone started ringing...
  
who was calling? "mommy"...
hell... if it read "mom" i'd be like... *******... ******...
so much for your spontaneous lapse into
pretend Alzheimer's... imitation amnesia...
but the calling card: "mommy" got to me...
i actually don't want a new phone...
i don't actually need a new phone...
i just need the one i have to work...
mind you... money never talks:
money always listens...
i have no scrupules over money:
                      money lies on the streets all the time:
sure... most of the time they're pennies...
but sometimes... if you're humble to pick but one...
lottery-luck... you might find a pound...
or a tenner... or a twenty...
but... "mummy" is calling...
i was like: if it read: "mum"... i'd be like... lazy ***...
leaving his / her phone on the self-service station...
my gain... your loss...
"mummy"... "mommy" kept ringing...
i was already at the end of Oakland Avenue
trying to figure out how to turn off the phone
and get the SIM card out so i wouldn't be tracked...

i don't need this... however much i was tempted...
i was tempted...
but then the dawn of something akin to reason
came to the lightness of my mind...
better i return this find...
it's not gold...
and "mommy" is calling... so... it wasn't an idiot
that just left this £1000+ item in a supermarket...
as the sayings go:

myśl dobrze mów dobrze rób dobrze (a) będzie dobrze..
on Oaklands Avenue i had that "moment":
after seeing the person calling me on a found /
not a stolen phone... "mummy" is calling me...
if it simply read as "mum"... i'd be like:
well, too bad... Alzheimer prone:
spontaneous memory idiot...
this phone is mine...
          i didn't steal it: i just found it... but then something
kicked in... a headache without a headache...

I'M NOT GOING TO DO THE FOLLOWING
BECAUSE IT'S RIGHT... some absolute GOOD vs. EVIL...
i'm going to do this because i want to FEEL...
goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood...
like glue mixed up with goo...
because that's the focus of reality...
Abel's revenge...
on the vegetarian: moral-posturing Cain...

i can't put a kid through this... the parents will probably
grill... it turns out she was 7 years old...
her for losing her phone / a mini-computer
on a self-service counter in a supermarket...

i had second thoughts: i like second thoughts...
thought that read: not because it's RIGHT...
something selfish... animating the ancient strives...
i want to feel good...
like the mantra already stated:

myśl dobrze mów dobrze rób dobrze (a) będzie dobrze...
(think good speak good do good and
maybe all will turn out good)

as i was turning the lost property in... i already received
several phone-calls from "mommy" / "mummy"...
i think that stealing this phone would have felt
much more thrilling than simply finding it...

so me and this police-officer start talking...
found this phone... yeah... 10 minutes ago...
where is the phone / where is the "mummy"? she's on
her way...
           any details? so she can say thank you?
you think i got a thank you?
i received no thank you... oh: glory to the inhibited
nature of man concerning what's good in this world...
i didn't want to be thanked: thankfully i wasn't thanked...
i could have easily ****** off with the phone:
insurance probably paid for such circumstanes...

but this is why Cain slaughtered Abel...
people are naive... i'm thinkiing:
the gods were probably just as naive: if not more...
i think the gods were naive:
me? i just tested being exceptional...
but if it was money? oh: like ****...
no chance... money is money...
money is both stone, both tree,
both a heart-transplant...
i find money... i'm keeping it...
                i have no morality concerning money...
but when a...
what sort of parent... gives authority of ownership...
of something worth over £1000 to a prepubescent
girl?! and expects not to "forget" once in a while?
is that authority and worthiness building works?
you need, strangers, to ask themselves moral
questions!
          i didn't have to ask the said moral questions:
i could have profited outright from
this scenario!

        but i asked them: regardless!
because? i wanted to feel good rather than feel lucky:
lucky on the basis of "theft"...

it's highly uneconomic to mix fizzy drinks with whiskey
coming from a plastic bottle than coming from
a can...
better, better still?
leave the already opened bottle of pepsi in
the sun... and each time you unscrew it...
after filling up... shake the bottle up...
to keep the fizziness in it...

i wish i were more evil that my inherent ontology
disavows me from being...
then again... burp... ****... 30 minutes down the lines...
i do visit strip clubs and brothels...
so... i'm sort of like...
                i'm already what's best reserved
and at the same time: what's best kept hidden...
what's to be explored:
by those not willing to explore to begin with.

title - you-yo-you-yo
body -
a *******
BLITZKIREG
of **** accusations...
a sort of a:
well done... another
year of this: prrrrrr-lease;
******* nonces.      502 bad gateway bypass

                      ******* retards...
no... just retards... munchkins...
RE-*******-TARDED!_

           no... the guillotine will not sing for them...
they're too ***** whipped... obedient little craft-merchants
of: no ******* craft...
you ask for a table to sit by... you just might...
get a ****** Picasso painting...
     i wouldn't trust these people when asking
them to... tie their ******* shoelaces...
        RETARDS... plain and simple;
i don't have any Robespierre quotes on me...
but if i did? my tongue would turn into fire!
and my eyes... would turn into cold nuggets of coal...
that would spontaneously catch fire!
i don't have the reflexive strength of arms to combat
these people... that will come later...
i'm laying out the groundwork of disgust...
    you need that dirt first...
          the mind must be impregnated with
the most abominable of surrogacies...
   before... the body reacts... it... takes time...
wait... i haven't given full closure for the French...
these people are... no longer satisfying to be welcome
in being allowed to live among us...
guillotine is perfectly: humane... it's not hanging...
trouble is... i'm thinking this through...
this is no longer some abstract theatrical language...
i'm actually thinking of implementing it...
if not me... then my successor...
not that i don't have the *****...
but because: certain obstacles will not be necessary
or available when the right time comes...
enough! is! enough!
i kept telling people: you spawned this monster...
this monster is not going to: somehow:
"somehow"... die..
    i'm too lean and bothered about the whole scenario...
i admired Robespierre too much...
assez est assez! oculus per oculus!
          das ist es!
                                      enough! nein! niet!
no! nie! but first you need the groundwork!
it's no longer about protecting "our women": these women
are not "our" own... they belong to themselves...
they belong to: refugees welcome...
****...
          they're the freedom they so instilled in themselves
that needs to be respected...
thank god for Turkish prostitutes:
they always tend to know when they're not
getting *****... lucky me...
no... no man's land...
the shifts of time... barricading the past
with an unknown future...
           how... endearing...
  i should conscript in the corpus of either the Janissary
or the Mamluks... for fun...
see Islam the ***-side-up... not being circumcised...
drinking...

for a while i thought i was truly sick from seeing Jeminah
again... not her facce... just her behind...
walking next to another man...
          my face was flushing... my eyes were burning...
my entire body was wrapped in cold-shivers...
but then reality kicked in... two 2 hours on the bicycle
really massaged my **** and intestines...
there was a stealth ****... hiding "somewhere"...
oh man... i feel so relaxed... that it's come out...
it's not love... it's something very biological...
my head is cleared... my face is still burning...
i'm still getting the remains of the cold sweats...
but down below? it's like some mighty strain has been
lifted... i never thought that being so clogged up
could fool you so much...
   an album like Boy Harsher's Careful... and the song:
face the fire... makes it all alright...
   eh... c'est la vie... c'est la vie...
   that's me not raising a foster child... that's me not
paying off her debt and gave her a bad credit score...
almost punched her: or punched her and
her son... i'm glad... it's hard to love the un-loveable...
i'm not perfect... but i'm not that...
   if i was a woman with a child i too could get
a council flat... i don't see how or why i'm this mega insult
to her dating preferences... but that's life...
the impossible is already and most certainly always true:
than how older generations treated the affair:
sure... we'll start poor... our parents might help us...
but we'll work it out... later on... pair-bond like silly swans
over all of life's difficulties...
now? someone has to have it... simply: ******* MADE...
that's so frustrating... no wants to live a life:
work on it... get at something...
people (ahem... women and male scammers)
just want to arrive on the GIVEN... the already MADE...
age disparity... obviously... unless he's some whizz kid
who profited from making an app that in turn
allowed him to profit from... say... the war in Ukraine...
that happens...
         oh thank god... i was starting to think she was
feeling these sensation and i was feeling them back...
thank god it was only a stealth **** that "forgot" to appear
in the day... not even stomach cramps...
flushes on the face, burning eyes... cold sweats all over
the torso... a strange headache... no... it's not love...
silly little you...
it's just a ****** situation: but if that's the way it's going
to be? then... why waste my time?
it's not like i lost weight to look good... better...
i much preferred being slightly invisible...
     too much drama... but the doctor said: you have a choice...
you either lose the excess weight... or...
we'll put you on high-blood-pressure tablets...
since it's a hereditary genetic fault via lineage...
well... what was i going to do? take the pills...
or ******* cycle my shrinking *** into the sunset?
obviously the latter...
      oh man... the first time i lost this much weight
it truly was a vanity project... but then... when you're 18+
you can become this lean long-haired Adonis
and come down to... about 76kg...
     my best so far? 96kg... but i put on more since... winter:
you store more... fatigue kicks in...
you eat more... drink less... blah blah...
plus.... 1=+ is not 35+ years old... it comes with the territory...
of... already having silver hairs on my chest...
my beard and my hair...
            but i'm not going to be repentant: i'm not going
to give some mea culpa: it's my fault...
i'm not a solipsist... in physics... what's that?
there's an equal and opposite reaction to an action...
in a nutshell...
other people do exist... there's what one can grasp as:
the environment...
you interact with it... sometimes you get promoted...
sometimes you get stalled...
    it's just a bit ****... quiet frankly...
         but like i already mentioned... there are... short-term
treatments that... if utilised properly... can extend
the healing value for almost indefinitely...
prostitutes... i see no shame...
  well... if it were SIMPING on the internet... throwing bucks
at digital "women" that don't even strip but sell
tap water... sorry... bath water...
hell... i wouldn't even spend money on strippers...
me want to touch... terrible English:
specifically: me don't want talk... me want touch...
i figured... you're going to be paying for "something" anyway...
the women are not writing books...
for a long time women didn't write books...
they kept their secrets... but now? stupidly enough
they are showcasing them... they're actually teaching men...
well... if there's that much honesty in the air...
when do we inflate those hot air ***** balloons?!
but i'm also somewhat manifesting a suspicion...
western: "intellectual" women: will never hear of a feministic
stoicism, or a feministic cynicism...
unless what? i drink a litre of pink magic juice?
but at least i'm not bothered... i'm not angry... sure...
a little bit frustrated... but frustration is a sort of friction...
you stop rubbing your hands together:
the heat generated is no more...
        at least i'm not the Jack the Ripper case... taking revenge
on prostitutes... it's inverted these days...
prostitutes are a godsend... if i were to be perfectly
honest... i don't women that fear me...
giving cash up-front i can bypass the fear...
and get to the nitty-gritty of a physical interaction...
intellectualism of any sort just went out of the window...
what would i talk about? movies? music?
books? or leftwing propaganda indoctrination?
past dating horrors... i don't feel like talking about
that sort of crap: i just want to ****...
         it always happens... you walk down the street
at night... a woman passes you...
she's all in jitters... nervous... it's like:
you seriously want me to be a killer, don't you?
   after Khedra sent me some of her selflie pictures...
i've been unable to ******* to ****... i sometimes uses it
to get a hard-on but then switch to watching her plush lips...
and that's that... it's weird...the ******...
i can smell her on me... is that because i *******
into her: unprotected?!
            hell... if life is going to be like it has been to me...
what am i going to do? sit back?
"relax"? get angry... no... i'll see the most peaceful outlets
to sooth my "frustrations"...
      i can't be angry with women...
but i also can't stand the spew of Darwinism that only focuses
on the dating game...
  it used to be so much fun...
then... the survival of the fittest stopped
mattering... other factors became invoked...
money... corrupts everything...
that object that dictates the transvaluation of values...
that's money... gold has value...
which fluctuates... because the value of money
fluctuates...
and if money is the res-per-se: the thing in itself
that has the inherent nature of fluctuation...
then... obviously... anything given / put under
a monetary standard is also going to fluctuate...
               along with the fluctuations of money...
            you can't really chance trans-valuate the existence
of stones... unless they're marble... etc.
what can't you trans-valuate? clouds?
can't invest in clouds... to stop the rains...
can't trans-value mountains: or the seas...
they're not going anywhere...
            but i can trans-valuate ***...
i can say: better me going for an hour of raw
**** sapiens funs... than...
coughing up too much for false dates and not getting
what i want... just eating too much...
and paying for two people...
i just did a trans-valuation...
trans-evaluation...
                  well... no one was killed... big +...
that plus is not big enough... but it's supposed to be a
BIG +...
  any hurt parties? do, i care?
right now... i don't care... no one cared prior...
i'm not going to start caring now...
i care that my frustration friction didn't make me ****
someone... i didn't steal anything...
lucky me... trickle of time: immemorial...
            it's good to sometimes: forget... almost... no...
not almost... absolutely EVERYTHING....
forget the idea that there might be a cinema.

Easily to accused and play the victim.
In truth, some allegations just might be true.
But, we have been in this world of giving and getting for centuries.

Now offered for free, without a purpose to the theme.
Borrow not?
If you're not willing to offer something up?

Celebrities, only the tip of the iceberg.
When in reality?
We know many have profited greatly from giving?
And then only the victim when they been used up?

As a youth, dealing with parents and you need to borrow money.
Watch the proposals thrown your way to accomplish your goal.
Cut the grass
Take the trash out and many more.
If you asking to borrow your parents' car?

So, we must be careful of taking sides because someone is accused?
For when evidence?
Is presented then we see the clues?

This present youth squad?
You see on sports shows will be the one crying discrimination decades from now.

Look, at the sport shows with the model looking, sportscasters.
Beautiful and appealing and there to keep males attention.
Some bright and educated others loss on the knowledge they need to know.

Look at all shows mainly on FOX and you see this truth.
Youth beauty doing the morning news.
Mainly upon your local news shows too.

They not complaining about it now?
But pay attention when years from now.
When they will?

It's coming.
Except, many profited greatly by being upon these shows.
Once older just accept another youth squad came along.

And it's time for you to go.

One thing only, that I ask,
That the people of state,
Remember the time of need,
How they left you to bleed;

Turned their backs on you,
Manufactured beneficiaries,
Profited from your need,
Out of stupidity and greed;

Don't forget in a hurry,
Lest in time all get blurry,
Abandoned you to your need,
Took everything, and your seed;

And gave you much excuses,
Why you must suffer,
Cast because of tongue and creed,
Deaf and blind to your very need.

Tennessee, Georgia, Kentucky, and of course Mississippi, mainly all southern states and few outsides.
Only exposed white racism that has flourished in silence.

Yes, caught.
White racism exposed.
Then it was seen almost decades ago.

It never faded?
Just withdrew for a while although it was seen.

Under Obama, it creeped out slowly.
Racists whites with their racist viewpoint.
Under Clown Trump they released it fast and quickly.

As we see and very aware they from breeds that proceeded them.
Racism, deeply ingrained in them.
White religion, strictly from racist agenda.
You hardly see white evangelicals follow Jesus' path.

Fearful to speak about law enforcement injustice.
Why?
Cause they profited greatly from that segment.

And none totally surprise by the racist white climate except those blacks always trying to fit in within them.

White violent militias running American streets like terrorists but more crying about the BLM protesters.
Many never had weapons but signs held up to the racism surrounding them.

Quietly sit those whites intimidated of their own.
We saw this a long, long time ago.
JFK-killed by a white.
Minister Edgar-killed by a white.
RFK-killed by a white.
Oklahoma bombing killing, yes at the hands of whites

And they address those in certain countries with their odd philosophy.
Trump, simply played the see some fools and use those fools to accomplish his point.

Now, like cave-men, they are crying foul about an honest election that kicking out their Clown of New York.
Because with true honest judges upholding the law of the land.
They must come back to reality.

Besides, if they holding onto segregation days.
And many of them are, they must face the truth that this a totally different generation.

Black ministers wouldn't be able to peacefully advise this group non-violence is the way.
Especially when they aware they have the power to control the rage.