My big brother, big sister and I .
Fourteen ,ten and I was nine,
Cried more  tears then we ever cried.
Our mother had committed suicide.We'd already been through  qiute a bit. We were babtized that lifes one thing you  just cant quit.Our Mom committed the biggest sin.I refused to imagine which place she  was in.It was the one thing I couldnt bare.   I d  seen alot more evil then Id ever  seen of good\ We found our selves there questioning  God.My brother  bent his brow and gave a  nod. He thought a careful moment  and scratched his  head.He  then leaned in close and this is what he said, "For right now how about looking at ot like this Instead..?
You  don't have to wait till your
darkest hour. To admit to yourself
you believe in a higher power.
It's like telling white lies ,everyone
knows  we all  do it. And you know
they do it too.Don't believe me?
I can proove it to you. Proove me wrong,
I dare you to. Take this dare.  
Bowed in prayer,Be thankful for  care.
Greatful hearts for all our mercies and despair.
Be Blessed, us all,your  with the gifts we recieve.
Wealth of knowledge from lessons
in the burdens that we bare.
Our faith mirrors our existance.
A life worth living.Sharing and giving,
helping hand one good deed,
without expectation.With out even a whisper
of taking credit.An angel to guard
inpure thoughts,another for my words.
Together  both in charge of my deeds.
Provide for my essential needs.
So that I don't mistake them for my wants.
The regret that haunts.Gifts of good fortune
one never flaunts.When
we fail to fullfill.No weapon or pill
upon my own self be done.
Judging no one.
gossiping upon no one. Do not listen
nor tell Any one.No false pride
Or mask to hide.Beauty comes from
whats inside. Swallow your pride
I am forgivin. I will forgive,
because we are human. Because
we live. Give what you can give.
.No less,When the cuphas been filled
it can hold no more.We've done our best.
When in error just confess.
No man alive.Him nor I ,
has the right to choose
how either of us die. Do not lie.
When I look at him and he looks at me,
We are not consumed with greed or envy.
I refuse to be his enemy,the way  that satan
would like it to be, I have no hate in me.
Music and love, respect and honesty,
Wheather or not anyone else can see.Patience
understanding and an opened mind.And being
somebody  to believe. Being someone
whose kind.Being somebody
that somebody can trust. Be fair and be just.
Be very wary of whomever you lust.
Look down on no one unless your
helping them stand, if put in power
don't be grand.Don't let that power go to your head
Keep it in your heart instead.And every night
when you go to bed.Bow your head  and pray.
I promise if you live this way. And say this poem
every day. Unhappiness will stay away.You
will not be afraid.You  will not want for anything.
You'll be pleasantly  surprised at what each day will bring.
And everyone around you will see it too.
You will be sufficiantly sufficed. It's not  a  religion
It's called living life. It's that feeling you feel
right now inside. It  won't be denied.
It's believing in my believing in you,
It's me believing you two feel that too.
You can call it God...
You can call it whatever you to.
Call it love.It's in each of us.
This power thats greater and higher above.
But its not about religion  or going along
You know the difference betwren right and wrong .Your hard enough on yourself when the heat is on.And most imortant of anything at all if you absolutely HAVE to lie....
......look them in the brows....not in the eyes.
Amen.

Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier

I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton

You're right. It's totally her ***.
Ugly Faces - Watsky

Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything

Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX

Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement

I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted

Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords

I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
You Don't Have To Be A ******* - Flight Of The Concords

You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons

No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table

Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit

Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok

I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.

That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa

******* spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go

Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto

No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona

I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo

That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers

Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.

I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
*Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.

Well since you gave me the idea,
I'll just to my alley of worship
to sing hymns of ecstasy and ****,
to glorify the power of  my all mighty drug dealer,
with the rest of my burnt out, strung out congregation.
A few beers doesn't make you an alcoholic
it means you were thirsty.
Before you read the rlab report.
Do you mind if I make a drink?
I wasn't going to show,
but our blood has bound us to the familial microscope.
Blacking out the ******* with the facts that proove you wrong dancing on the tip of tougne.
Your wasting my time.
I'll be the gentleman and I'll hold the door open for you.
Now walk right out of my life.

You cannot trust your mind anymore, the senses must be lying too. It is simply jut not logical that you go mad in sleep when awake, you never have gone mad.
- Listen, mortal. I am, not here, I am, not now, out of the spacetime layer. And in this moment, you, too, will see what I see. History on one big image. From the Creation to the final extinction of known life.
-- You think, well, what about the Big Bang? Is that a lie?
- Not a lie but we have to discuss more earthly mysteries. Listen, what you are currently saying to yourself? Even though you are almost absolutely sure about the conjecture, that you are dreaming, starts to become complicated to proove. What if that's a dream, you kindly ask, now that this dreaming tests are being unconsciously reassure you:
- I's not a dream...

Flowers started to bloom on my
                         Birthday
     Anxiously I picked everyone that
                Reminded me of her
                  Bold and Carefree
 My mixed feelings didnt let me give them
            To her instead I gracefully  
                 ripped each petal off
Next time i feel like destroying a flower
                  Ill grab it but stop
      I dont need to pluck off petals to
          Proove that you love me not
       I planted a flower 7 months ago
            And it still hasn't bloomed
        Who plants flowers during Fall?
      I shouldnt have started so soon

Not one day becomes  anew,
without her having thoughts of you...
It  wouldn’t matter when or where...
...without even a trigger,
The thought would be there’.
In Fact....
For the entire time that she’s  alive,
not a single night goes by
That the moon doesn’t
Shine amongst  the stars in the sky
With out her asking, to her self,”WHY?”
She’ll ask of other’s for a while-
Who never  make it past denial.
And they’ll call your death a big mistake
You forgot how many pills to take.
She’ll  always wonder why they lied.
About the manner in which you died.
“Why ?” do they  torture the other with blame
Until nobody even dares mention your name.
There isnt a day or a night for the rest of her time  
that a memory of you
doesn’t come to her mind.
When  everyone else  woul be fast asleep ,.
She’d  go to her window
Where she’d  weep..
Trying to make sense of  each and every word
about your death that she heard.
She obsesses on any and all  thats been said.
But  they race and they spin and  they mess with her head.
No one can be trusted to give the  answer thats real,
Every tear is a cut that will never heal.
She knew she was more helpless
With each new wound that bled
She just wanted so badly to be  with you instead.        
                                             On her knees,beside her bed,
she saddly bowed her little head
and
resights the prayer the two of you said.
                        She clasps her hands and close  her eyes real tight
and pray that she could be with you tonight
and you’d  hold her ,you’d  tell her it ‘ll all  be alright .
On her broken spirit you’d shed some light
                              So that a glimps of  hope might  be in her sights
She’d stay up all night in  a pitch black room
with the shadows that she sees in the light of  the moon
thinkin its that times she gets to  spend with you
If ever  a wish she has happens to come true,
she believes with all her heart .that its because of you.

The Sad Fact is that through out  All her years,..
She won’t get that your the cause of her fears
your the heartache that wouldn’t wash away with her tears
and it’s You who’ll be the pain that never disappears .

Even  If no one ever again says your name,
you made your middle and her’s the same.
So along with that she‘ll always carry a sense of blame...
Why would you leave her to have live feeling  this shame.
No matter what she does that  will be the part of you that remains.


Guilt she’ll never find a way to erase,
She’ll look in the mirror and see your face, and
think your looking back at her with disgrace
And she long for a mother she can never replace.

For a mom she’ll never really know
For the love that couldn't grow
And the Love she’ll never be able to show.
Because she'll fear  that loving  is what will make love go
  As soon as she does,it has no reason to stay.
All she’s ever loved has been
Taken away.
Everything she believed in ...was all just pretend,
she wont be able to trust in anything again.
It was all for what,?What was it for?
Did you get the things you wanted more?
Did you proove some point you were trying to make?
Do you feel you made a huge mistake?
If you coulld go back and do it again...
.knowing what you didn’t know then.
Would you take it all back,would you find a way?
She’d be so happy if you would just stay.
There are alot of things in life We wish we could undo....
Do you think you’d  do it differently if you only knew?

Not one day becomes  anew,
without her having thoughts of you...
It  wouldn’t matter when or where...
...without even a trigger,
The thought would be there’.
In Fact....
For the entire time that she’s  alive,
not a single night goes by
That the moon doesn’t
Shine amongst  the stars in the sky
With out her asking, to her self,”WHY?”
She’ll ask of other’s for a while-
Who never  make it past denial.
And they’ll call your death a big mistake
You forgot how many pills to take.
She’ll  always wonder why they lied.
About the manner in which you died.
“Why ?” do they  torture the other with blame
Until nobody even dares mention your name.
There isnt a day or a night for the rest of her time  
that a memory of you
doesn’t come to her mind.
When  everyone else  woul be fast asleep ,.
She’d  go to her window
Where she’d  weep..
Trying to make sense of  each and every word
about your death that she heard.
She obsesses on any and all  thats been said.
But  they race and they spin and  they mess with her head.
No one can be trusted to give the  answer thats real,
Every tear is a cut that will never heal.
She knew she was more helpless
With each new wound that bled
She just wanted so badly to be  with you instead.        
                                             On her knees,beside her bed,
she saddly bowed her little head
and
resights the prayer the two of you said.
                        She clasps her hands and close  her eyes real tight
and pray that she could be with you tonight
and you’d  hold her ,you’d  tell her it ‘ll all  be alright .
On her broken spirit you’d shed some light
                              So that a glimps of  hope might  be in her sights
She’d stay up all night in  a pitch black room
with the shadows that she sees in the light of  the moon
thinkin its that times she gets to  spend with you
If ever  a wish she has happens to come true,
she believes with all her heart .that its because of you.

The Sad Fact is that through out  All her years,..
She won’t get that your the cause of her fears
your the heartache that wouldn’t wash away with her tears
and it’s You who’ll be the pain that never disappears .

Even  If no one ever again says your name,
you made your middle and her’s the same.
So along with that she‘ll always carry a sense of blame...
Why would you leave her to have live feeling  this shame.
No matter what she does that  will be the part of you that remains.


Guilt she’ll never find a way to erase,
She’ll look in the mirror and see your face, and
think your looking back at her with disgrace
And she long for a mother she can never replace.

For a mom she’ll never really know
For the love that couldn't grow
And the Love she’ll never be able to show.
Because she'll fear  that loving  is what will make love go
  As soon as she does,it has no reason to stay.
All she’s ever loved has been
Taken away.
Everything she believed in ...was all just pretend,
she wont be able to trust in anything again.
It was all for what,?What was it for?
Did you get the things you wanted more?
Did you proove some point you were trying to make?
Do you feel you made a huge mistake?
If you coulld go back and do it again...
.knowing what you didn’t know then.
Would you take it all back,would you find a way?
She’d be so happy if you would just stay.
There are alot of things in life We wish we could undo....
Do you think you’d  do it differently if you only knew?

"THINGS I dream Of"* - A poem by his wooly
mammoth mr. WOODY.


[Not much is left to the imagination
     to leave the Plantation in the sultry sun...]

"So what does Woody dream?" Of
Most things, Good...
To have lived that we should have not
known the sweet --Heavens
                                  now forbidden fruit

The knot you swallowed
Adams apples
lodges / in your throat
                "seeds
of trees lush -- green with Ideas"
who so to speak is
         a Head of a Family tree
         summer breezey tree-tops
bright songs light bittle birds
California girls and wild
the boardwalk, the "coast's
voluptuosity" travel the herd...
      
"sheezus!
if this is hell....****...boing!"

"I thawt I taw a *****
cat"
bettys kitty ******* bunny
Aye*
Mammy, Selfies will last longer
than the ****** you accidentally
bumped into

"Because poppy wanted something new"
HEAD is where you dump
**** and **** n ****.

Lavatory of Mad Bladders
     Tags sharpies spray-paint walls say
the craziest - don't ever dial the number
that escorts the bad drawn dongs
and ***'ges . scribbled in eye lashes
looking sideways toward you
for a kiss...?

He thought he knew,
I'm secure with my manly mystique
not damaged having none of him around
I sleep easy
                without
a father-dad-uncle-brother stress
pressure to proove myself
with stacks or whips...

so yeah, you know who's what's up

great Gran D is maw-maw's boy
gone off-grid they visit Vegas
Ranches  and ride the stallions
Gran-D gramps : the bunnies...
     (They sleep in quite well
      those heat waves summer fun...
catching rays and Zs.)

Herbalist
Maybe Woody dreams
are all Natural      
                          * (to question existence
                            and wanting more)

of Seed... of Sea? --of Trees I mean
meditate a sedative
bow down to Xanex!* rroooaaarr!
And in Any hood, it is your Word kept
Honors Mens Respects

Standing Tall like "Things" of Woody Dreams

Prisms
And Sleep's winter warmths
Hot Chocolates Marsh mellow Pillows
              [Well Rested]
Is the dream of this heart
the Poet sank
my Battleship--Me.

*"I will always care for Thee,
  but I can only carry Me."

If in Sleep...?
                       Sweet       Peacefully.

Oh if dear
I could only saturate your hunger for the lust of love and smoke

And if only dear
You found the haunting beauty that I see
In wet mascara'd eyelashes against cheeks
And the sweet sweet cigarette kissess you give me

Winter is upon us
And so we both are lost
I play my records over the sounds of slaughtered hearts
But your blind to my will
And so Here I lay dead and still

Lovely scars
Stretch down your back from my awful forbidden hours
Lovely liar
He spins his mendacious web around my hips and around my eyes oh
In between the books of music and men's wars of times

Winter is upon us
And so we both are lost
I play my records over the sounds of slaughtered hearts
But your blind to my will

I have not a name for what I crave!
but this adoration haunts me for days
I cannot find A single time where I can rest my clouded head
All the pillows made of lead
Only bloodied towels remind me of why I exsist
Its like my life force must show itself too proove, unlike the way you've ever been to me.

Winter is upon us
And so we both are lost
I play my records over the sounds of slaughtered hearts
But your blind to my will

Dead and Still
Dead and Still
                Still
                Still
               ­ Still
                Still
                Still
              ­  Still

.               ha ha... one word...
wpajać...
a word that implies
indocrination...
   ****...
who am i to
govern a labour
of loan words...
     pajac: clown...
acute c: short
and sweet,
no need to extend the matter
into a caron of
an "added"
                hidden H or Z...
naše kamienice,
  waše ulice...
(our tenements,
your streets)
the slogan,
before the jews were
robbed
prior to the
            holocaust...
world war II:
apparently,
the only people that
suffered, were, the jews...
let's just roll the time back,
and allow the right sort
of collatarel
to reply,
       to revert back...
wait,
   wait,
         just wait a little...
currently? i wondered...
when poland played austria
was i watching a home game
or an away game?
was it a warsaw crowd,
or a vienna crowd?
       sowiecki gałgan
(soviet idiot) -
sorry "lads",
this is were i turn all
deadpool om du...
                  i lost a limb
and a woman, to either some
arab sheikh, or some
h'american oligarch...
                      take you pick...
then again:
i was never going to be
made limbo with **** propaganda...
  oops or oh?
big ******* difference...
like: oh is more of a surprise
surrounding a mistake...
oops? more intentional...
last time i heard...
it was infantile
of me to read a bit of
sienkiewič...
    by the fire & the sword...
like...
i was reading something
akin to a harlequinn
novel and ****...
       history,
made into a novel...
next thing i know,
reading the current journalistic
diarrhoea...
   listening to the death of the winged
hussars by
krzesimir dębski
i'm pedro retardo the third...
because i have an elephant's
capacity to sort and assort
the faculty of memory...
  good for me, great for jazz...
i'm not part of the :western leftist"
amnesia get-together...
i have, a, past,
acquiring the english zunge
doesn't change anything...
if there's anything that it does
change...
    i'm hardly going to be part of it...

i'm awake,
it's currently 20 minutes to 3am,
some of the birds associated
with the english summer have
migrated back,
and they're squirting out
mating calls...
             i was given one opportunity
to have a freesome,
i declined...
i figured...
3 prostitutes...
   5 hours...
   **** it...
faking a death of a loved one
on my, then,
student loan bank
account overdraft limit...
   eh...
               i just started to think
about Broadmoor...
how, i'd figure out being
an artist,
  and sit out...
an ontological / zoological
upkeep,
sedated... yet somehow with
enough greens peas to
write something fathomable...
and... it would all end,
in 1930s Disneyland...

          where l.s.d. was off-limits,
and you could *******
an ego into the vacous entity
of **** of thought...
by simply watching the *******
cartoons! in black & white!

before ******-doo!
and the marvel universe...
before ******* batman,
and all that:
superhero but not superpowers
schtick!            ****!
like i wanna be faking it,
but then matthew mcconaughey
is 5'6" on the oscar altar
of public ****-talking,
and i'm watching him in
all these rom-coms and he's like:
giant me *****!
12" **** to boot!
  watch me oil up an alpha seal
before clapping its way into
a harem!
what's the difference
between a ****** and a dwarf?
don't know...
  but his middle name is,
and his full looks like:
middgy
  'matthew mcconaughey' darf...

i didn't plagiariße...
i just borrowed...
****...
from...
   shoe00head
mingling with darth-drool...
and the whole:
now that my dad's dead:
i get to milk the cow
sort of...
    "reiterating" the nostalgia.

people wanted funny!
until the jokes had to become
so complex,
as to compete with
20th century fwench absurd
literature...
and something resembling
german philosophy,
of the 20th century...
   **** me, strap-on with Locke...
you'll go far...
as far as 2001...
years later?
don't ask me...
i said very little,
                      and just watched.

LOSER BLOCK...
so i did two things my mother asked
me...
  filled out her disability application form...
cysts on her spine,
arthritis,
       injections into her spine and wrist,
hi replacement...
no, no chernobyll never happened...
walking with a cane,
aged in her early 50s...
  wrote a lovely rubric...
dug a hole,
planted a xeres cherry tree in the garden....
and then... relaxed...
        started to spot worthwhile
pedantic observations in a language:
which i "somehow" don't own,
or have claim to (by french psychology
third year student exchange programmes),
since i'm not native...
and drank... oh ****...
drank enough ms amber
to put a ******* rhino to sleep...
and?
              listened to some movie
soundtracks, avoided jazz
and punk...
              i never allowed myself
to brag about ***,
i had a chance for a *******...
declined...
     n'ah...
                 i had enough brains
to only bellow in a clarity of a transaction...
if i didn't pay for ***,
as a man,
i'd be paying for someone else...
i already know how unprotected ***
looks like...
oddly enough...
my my... aren't the prostitutes
overtly sensitive when it comes
to labouring under a scrutiny of
responsibility?
      ******* + a ******...
  that's why i don't understand the motives
of Jackie the serial Reply Guy
manifesto...
           an hour...
that's all it takes...
  but being tangled,
     faked,
    being dragged into nuance...
just schlichtlügen?
       you know... i'd rather chew on a *******
bay leaf...
   in all honesty...
i like playing responsible,
when i'm expected to play responsible...
i'll pay an extra 10 quid
on the 10 quid entry fee,
and the 110 quid per hour
if i'm going to proove
that h.i.v. is not transmitted
******...
no, not her playing cotton-candy...
me eating the oyster...
     that's ******* hilarious...
i had to visit a *******...
to clear my conscience
of, having, once upon a time,
a relationship,
that lasted roughly 6 months...
with a russian, western,
free woman of the world...
i actually had to visit a *******
to clear my conscience...
and then say:
whatever the **** i liked!
amazing...
           and then i cut off
any unfathomable desire to persist
my allowance of "using" prostitutes
to clear my conscience...
akin to the last time,
i "blamed" myself for not trimming
my *****...
which i made into an excuse for
her not touching my genitals,
which i later translated as
succumbing to merely kissing her...
with that sort of mouth,
that i kissed...
i probably ****** off a hundred
*****...
   and felt: m'eh about it...
but getting those words out of her
mouth,
was, by far, anything that
a faked onomatopoeia of "marriage"
would ever allow...
oh the german are ****** with us...
we still own Marienburg...

last time i heard:
before having a historically minded
memory hole was
deemed "infantile"
by the neu-communists in western
europe...
that, citadel?
   it wasn't constructed from red bricks...
ghostly grey / white bricks...
what?
        Marienburg...
now... the suspect opinion...
is the expansion of Islam akin
to the black plague...
resembled akin...
for the sole reason that...
us, Polacks,
experienced the same fate of
the "arabs"...
how we entertained the flow
of the crusades?

  wow! revelation!
discovering h'america in a can of
sardines!
or Einstien: in an acronym...
akin to mine...
M(atthew) C(onrad)...
   eh... like i'd tell you anything more
beyond the first letter of
my surname E(
              **** it)
                                     (schlert)

then again...
   why do people dox?
       99% of such interactions
ever end with said people,
sharing a meal,
or a drink,
or hand-jobs while taking
a shower together...
so...
                 i'll still leave this canvas
with an unrepentant fetish
for the german language...
english? complete...
now i have to further my interests
into the buffer-zone
of origins.

i sometimes purposively cycle the 20 odd miles
into central London from (circa) Havering-atte-Bower
to simply sit outside a Starbucks by St. Paul's:
drink my black coffee, smoke two cigarettes...
obviously drink the black coffee with an addition
of 50ml of some cheap-*** whiskey and...
experience, what i can best describe as a:
wilderness of people...
i honestly have no other way of phrasing it...
it's a wilderness of people:
comparatively if i were to walk into a forest
or a graveyard: same ****, different cover...
or do as i did today: sit still on a busy
pedestrian clogged street... it's all the same to me...
it just so happened that i was eavesdropping
today: doing some... lauschen:
which is not exactly listening...
i was trying to filter out what this gorgeous...
i'd put her in her 40s... ginger...
American accent was blasting into the telephone...
i actually couldn't make out if she
was talking to someone or merely recording
herself some notes...
while buying coffee i asked for a pen...
took several more napkins than necessary
and started scribbling some half-baked thoughts...
the best ideas came to me while walking:
once... then they came through
sitting on a windowsill and fermenting my brain:
Brian...
now... i need speed... i need traffic...
i need: unconscious spatial coordination...
i need involvement with things that might ****
me...
i need at least 25mph with no exoskeleton...
i need American Head Charge blasting into my ears...
no... i could never be a novelist:
impossible...
i work from the principle of: ensо̄ (macron o?
a bit like omega is to omicron
sort of teasing upsilon: pull: pool etc.)
hell... it is a concept, principle: since there's
no katakana for it...
just the ideogram 円,...
i will have to leave the full ideogram on some
other platform since...
never mind: i'll just leave a p.s.
at the end of this stampede of words...
but ensō goes much further...
it attaches itself to some unfamiliar territory:
i.e. when TAO met MU...
you can write MU in both katakana
and i'm pretty sure there's an ideogram
for it too...
as you can write TAO in katakana:
but i'm pretty sure there's an ideogram
for it too...

backwards & forwards... east meets west...
west meets east...
Alexander went east...
the Persian empire went west...
Genghis Khan went west...
Communism went east...
no wonder that even George Orwell cited
this relationship of Eurasian...
even now... the Russians are in bed
with the Chinese...
not that the outliers of Asia: the Japanese are
somehow clued in...
who's going to get crushed in the dynamic?
who was crushed in the dynamic of Germany
growing an ego-phallus attempting to
**** a Russian-venus-flytrap?
i guess someone from the sort of: moi...
ahem... "persuasion"...
of course the south eastern Asians will feel the brunt
of the tripping... the "collateral" as they like
to call it...
and what's happening now in Europe & elsewhere
if not the GREAT CULL?!
i can play the wolf in sheep clothing for
a while... but even i know that:
the mask is slipping... it's all gooey and not
properly glued to the smiley face...
it's no conspiracy "theory" it's just...
common sense...

oh look (ensо̄ jazz... a googlewhack;
oh that's why... ensō)

i couldn't be a novelist: or for that matter
a painter:
i need to insert something:
but at the same time return to myself,
i.e. get the hell out...
if i had to labour days upon days
that would turn to weeks...
to months... to years...
i think i'd forget what my original
intentions were...
but to write something: antithetical to lyricism:
i will never write
audl lang syne... not that Shakespeare ever
would or could write something
that could be sung! Shakespeare never wrote anything
for people to sing come New Years Eve...
he wrote material for recitation:
sure... there's a genius in that:
writing for... f-f-*******: Thespians...
i imagine an actor growing his own turnips:
not that i'm any better:
i spew words...
but i don't spew recitations...

if it's "b'ah... bad original": well... at least it's
original... i abhor lyricism...
to many rhymes...
i suppose if you want to sing you have
to rhyme... although...
i don't think that auld lang syne is a lyricism
with that much rhyme...
most associated with modern music...
it's: narrative lyricism: which implies...
there's no lyricism to sort of begin with...

ich sehen mein geist:
verdunkelt nach ein nachtgerinnen...

if i start something: i finish something...
i couldn't be an artist from the perspective
of: "coming back to it"...
i couldn't be a novelist either...
for that matter... from what i heard...
i can't be a poo'et either:
first come, first served...
i think of language like i think of food...

well... it was more than "fun" to cycle into central
London and have a coffee overshadowed by
St. Paul's cathedral...
black... plenty of sugar... 50ml of cheap whiskey...
well i know you can't buy whiskey
in a Starbucks...
i bought that along the way...
and i just sat there:
some would say that wearing sunglasses
is a bit like donning the niqab...
although with the niqab:
i purposively stare at those "ninjas"...
some even return a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look
like: well i can't see you poking your tongue out at
me, so... what's the point?

once upon a time in Hackney i was walking
out from my ex's house with her younger brother
& their dog... cookies?! ah!
Nachos! while my "future" in-laws were
having a fight... she was dropping plates
i guess... because i left a newly bought
guitar at their home when i first arrived
on the shores of psychosis: London-Edinburgh:
to-&-fro...
i bought this acoustic splendour...
a Martin & Co. D-X1E...
  i was still paying it off... me & my ex broke up:
well... the story of my life...
all the women in my life broke up with me...
so i'm guessing my supposed "future in-law"
did some "D.I.Y." on her:
that's before i could even give her a name...
&... i'm either a very truthful person...
which is why i only sleep rather than dream...
hence... the great presence of the "YAWN"...
he told me a story & i brushed it off...
he said... guitars tend to break up when
left outdoors... maybe it wasn't him...
maybe she did it...
i was tripping on psychosis...
so... no excuses for me.... plenty of ****** lies
to tell from the opposing party...
i think my heart also ached...
i think: but since i think is therefore i doubt...
probably not...
problem being: i bought the ******* "missing piece"
of a shipwreck on loan...
so... i had to pay off a tampered with
guitar... CUZ... just... BE-CAUSE...
cheap-***... mother-*******... lies!
now i think i'm just gullible...
it has reached a fever-pitch sensation of arrogance
where i think i could get away with ******:
why? all the ****** lies i've been told:
it seems i'm investing in something
grandiose... sinister...
it has to be: a thrill of the antithesis of gravity...
or something...

right there! i saw it! i was walking out with
my ex's younger brother & that HMV mut
when a woman in a niqab
rolling a buggy pulled her niqab off
& what i saw: i saw... a grotesque "feature":
i don't think it was a face...
it was an Arabian nightmare... something:
Cradle of Filth sing about...
maybe i wasn't prepared for such an act...
it was hardly "defiance"...
perhaps she had the honour-acid-in-your-face
squirt... squirt sort of treatment:
easier to hide under a niqab...

there's a currency of delusion that only reigsters
to media outlets...
nothing is really reported:
but everything is curated...
the media is like an art-gallery...
it requires either curators or... editors...
if she unveiled herself like she did
& i saw the face of the cenobite pin-head:
i'd be like... well thank, ****... for that...
now i know what the hammer's for!

well... my supposed future father in-law ended
up with a stint in some psychiatric ward...
so i'm guessing: he ****** around with my:
yet to be paid in full ownership of:
let's call her Layla...
guilt riddled, started calling me Jesus...
any other ******* day of the week i'd be this
Hey-Zeus... but not back then...
i visited him, brought him a bible &:
since he was, is: dyslexic it was hardly the point
of lifting his spirits up with some
Tolstoy...

well you can write the idea of mu phonetically:
it doesn't have to be an idea: #
it can be merely a compound sound: ム...
which is neither vowel or consonant:
it's a consonant-vowel:
it can't be a "vowel-consonant": even though
i know it sounds better...

when translated to my native-toong...
mu... for him...
or: je-mu: again... for him...
jej: her's...
jego: his'             hisses...
  his...
mu: for him...
            i'm bewildered by lack
of a female counterpart equivalent:
plenty of h'americana to be borrowed cunted-up
cluster ***** of "memetics":
come again?
isn't CECI N'EST PAS UNE PIPE
a memetic "typo"?
well... if they told me that Polacks shared the same
grammar as the Fwench:
TO NIE JEST: this is not...
FAJKA... it's Fwench! it's western Slavic...
maybe i'd learn it "better": or at least invested in enough
nouns to better coordinate myself with...
but it's not like i was allowed to learn
English then German...
which would have follow suite...
so now i'm all "bitter" et, und... "sad" still...
boggled down in Loon'don & not Pari(s)...
*******: P'ah-rrrrrrrrrr-E!
or... P'ah-rrrrrrrrr-é... same ****... different cover...

i'm already arriving at: shrapnel avenue...
like the the Mongol sacking of Baghdad...
the skulls "just seem" to be piling onto each other
without end of a horizon of the pyramid in
sight...
it's monstrous... it has all the ingenuity of
a hyped-up Hippocrasic oath:
but... it's seems a terrible prospect to: breed...
unless you're locust prone...

you sit at layout of a cafe that extends to
an outside.... you smile to yourself
seeing a nuclear family walk past...
you smile: to yourself...
thank god i will not the good-father:
supposed: where, while i'll be "good"...
but i'll also be blamed...
thank god i will not be blamed...
esp. if... i were born into a lineage of carpenters...
& suddenly the trade of carpentry went:
bust...
i write this & rightly so...
i hear.. the crying of the girl who lost
my virginity to...
how i suckled at her ******* she came to visit me
in Edinburgh...
i too know: the pertinent Q.: what if?!
perhaps she didn't have the face
of Ava Lauren: but she had the ******* to
proove otherwise...

so i sat in this cafe beside St. Paul's...
once or twice minding the wind...
as you do... some H'american beau ginger having her
"impersonating a dialogue"... ahem...
"conversation" over the phone...
chez la reve - daniel licht...
   almost as good as christopher young's:
something to think abut...

it's what i lullaby myself to sleep with...
well... that & a liter of whiskey...
be-be-because this simply doesn't have an anchor!
suppose it won't sink:
bit i'll die: a ******* captain!

well... one might imagine the... "almost"? really?
the universal claim for "common sense"...
come again?
i thought common sense, in practice or in theory...
is rather...  unilaterally-biased to take
into consideration the buffer cushioning
of "collateral":
again! those who espouse so much of Darwinism's
superiority...
are, the, people... last: to arrive at its mechanisations...
the English were the people safeguarded
by their island status...
sorry? now what... "now"... ahem "what"?
come to think of it...
i don't want to live among any other people beside the English...
call them Welsh ccall then Scots... Anglo-Saxons
call them: gimps with their socks on...
common sense? savvy?
i had a thought cycling through traffic...
i love all the assured interactions with
strangers... after all: it's true what they say...
you look best with your family...
when you get a chance to cut yourself out
from a shared picture: that was taken...

common sense is one thing...
but... nothing ingenious about this proposal...
look away...
what about... the genius of English culture
that could perhaps culminate in...
COMMON COURTESY?!
last time i heard Italian were irresponsible when
utilising the concept of traffic...
in England?!
the cyclist is a buffer zone-in...
can't people entertain COMMON COURTESY
while having their higher alliance
to the allignment of a both: "higher" & "power"?

https://allpoetry.com/poem/16172654-Z-by-Matthew-Conrad-adult#share