.                                                 what?
between MC hammer...
and men at work...
there's a choice?
come on...
you could have given
me an easier question,
like... Debussy
contra Satie...
or, like...
  egg yolk or egg white?!
point being...
i'd love to see
christopher lambert
play the role of
raiden in that... mortal kombat
game made into a motion
picture...
you know...
if i owned a PS2...
i'd still be a gamer...
but i never owned a PS2....
or the metal gear solid 2
gaming experience...
not the PS1 experience
fighting ****** mantis...
you know that hack / cheat...
when you switch controller
slots...
when ****** mantis is
giving his grandiose speech..
and you switch the controller
ports, so that in in the game
you're not predictable...
   final fantasy 7?!
completed it with a walk-through...
sorry... homework...
that being said:
all of Friday night and all of
Saturday morning...
and some Tenchu....
wacky-Jacky...
      cow later chow,
enter mein...
           choppers chop chop...
these days?
i game...
           when i take a ****...
i figured... if there are people who
take a book to the crapper...
i'll take a game...
    war robots....
      you know what's fascinating?
the interactive applicability of
a game...
                     team-work...
mesmerizing...
                the whole gaming
structure drifted from a narrative,
to a congregational dynamism...
solipsism unraveled...
i dig the whole team work,
while taking a ****...
love it... 5 stars review...
     but am i a gamer...
do i not think that
a.i. is a revamp of Pinocchio?
no...
     but metal gear solid?
a ******* solid game
on PS1...
       you would be talking to a gamer
if i was allowed to buy
a PS2 console...
         oh right...
  i read books and listened to music,
and ended up writing anti-routine /
anti-technicality poetry /
anti-rhyme poetics....
                                      my bad;
"we're" calling a revision
of chess in play;
yeah... sorry...
   i was never into paragraphs,
with dialogue interludes...
for me...
  poems were always above
a structural stature of paragraphs;
something to do with
haiku or... whatever came out of
Godzilla's mouth.

war took mine, i was sold  playing tenchu
on level 6... just before i was to
assassinate this ***, and he practised all
his bow skill in private, then it was made public
by a ninja... i only completed final
fantasy 7 with a walk-through...
i hate the fact that i stuck to
the schooling narrative...
  but hose were the PS1 days,
those days are gone, gone gone gone,
bye bye gone...
                 the **** was that?!
an oscar for best actor at the gladiator premier?!
why isn't more gaming mentioned in poetry?
where is raziel, and the the legacy of cain:
soul reaver, and the story about how he
squashed his brothers:
dumah, melchiah, rahab, and zephon?
oh look: the geek in me!
                 100 years from a youtube video...
i'm bound to do the bristol d'uh and say:
i've never been to south america...
nor ever...
                        me go sort out this avalanche
if that's o.k. with you, hmm?
this is the thrill you get when seeing peoiple
play a reincarnation of gameboy,
i.e. candy-crush saga... if you moved beyond
the PS1 universe you won't get it...
if you remember PS1 games, you'll probably
remember SEGA and sonic,
and age of empires 2, and sim city 3000...
**** me! but you won't probably remember the
weathergirl... who was becky mantin
when this was written...
           odd, that little gray box of saturdays
and sometimes sundays, but definitely
saturday mornings...
                    it gone... and i don't feel like owning
an update of it, because games have become
overtly narrative prone, they only allow thise gameplay
that's too narrated... i switch on the console
and i want mario bros. calculator type of dynamism...
instead i get this really complex story
when i should be reading a book...
   no, really, when did gaming become so
****** engrossing that i try to become distracted by
brick walls?
           when did i or when didn't i take to playing
chess? well... when i started playing dominos
with 6 cigarette stumps and a black hardcover
philosophy book... maybe around then.
books i great, believe me...
but this nook of counter-arcade games?
i woke up at 9am as if about to go to school
and played that japanese fetish for hours...
so much if our culture in nearing the post-20th
century culture was axis... it was almost all japanese...
you can't take that fact out and replace it
concerning: god intervened at Giza and yawned
at chichén itzá...
because you would... still, i thankfully retired
from the gaming experience (when did PS2 come out?
i wanted it for about 2 years and still didn't
get it)...
    1998? 1997?
                      thankfully i get to mention computer
games like novels... SEGA mega drive?
yep, owned that.
                   and yes, i can cite an ATARI,
and ****, **** **** me!
   that original NINTENDO?!
              and that shooting mallard simulation
against a screen of televisions that could
still issue you with van der graaf static
   of "levitating" hair?
(when televisions were still 3D and played
you remnants of the big bang
       in televised black and white khrrr sound,
all dicta fidgety, like looking through the eyes
of a bluebottle fly)... or
    the original prince of persia?
     those two dimensional ferns rotating round and
round when approached in the original tomb raider?
oh forget the cone-****-madonna...
shaid the ish cream van man to shaun shoonery...
cheap ****: said the dead with charlie
at the head of their horde of entertainment's flops.
i retired from the gaming world though,
left it when PS1 expired...
and morphed into PS2...
           i'm half sad and half saying: i can understand
candy crush, because i can understand
the origin: TETRIS.
like i can understand why i can't do crosswords,
my father just said: even i can't do them,
the clues are all a bit of a wanking to comprehend...
it's as if they only based them on the thesaurus...
   we're good on sudoku though, that can be solved
without problems...
        i miss those games though,
i finished final fantasy 7 with a walkthrough
though... tenchu was also fun to complete,
crash bandicoot? anyone remember him?
           now for not faking it...
                                     i'm glad that's over,
i'd hate the gaming experience as i hate interactive
t.v. thesedays... all this pause and rewind?
  thanks to it i sometimes press the STOP
button when listening to the radio and wonder
why it just keeps running... oh right: this isn't
a c.d. transmission... funny though, the gaming experience
translated into t.v. really has made advertising
ultra competative or utterly useless....
   you just end up pausing before a break, and then
scrolling past the advertisers' airtime...
next thing i'll be buying is when they make
an advert for shoepaste.

psiór vs.
                        pśιór "debate".

every area of interests has its cul de sac,
its brick-wall, a dead-end as it were,
a point where transcendence is
welcomed, unavoidable,
but nonetheless: miserable stalled.

philosophers have the cartesian
   cogito ergo sum -
whatever arithmetic of wording
they produce, not even samson
could topple this pillar of foundation
for the temple of thought.

the same is with my example...
it would appear that the diacritical
**** ι with a floating head i
did not translate further, beyond
the same treatment of yot (j) -
(gee a jeep! yodh: serif (י) and
rashi (

yet by oath alone, hebrew orthography
invokes itself in letters...
unlike the post-roman orthography
of words...

                   ι    י      
                      Y         (    .    )
                      ي

                            ­        floating alongside
e...
         if only the greek sigma
   had the tetragrammaton of the arabic "ι" -
the initial σ (يـ‎) & the final ς (ـي) are
indeed there, but what of the isolated
(ي‎) & the medial (ـيـ‎) - unless of course
of course we treat to invoke the
upper-case: Σ - such as is missing in arabic,
and is only a question of: how much
the prolonged line?

p.s.

   why would i ever like the evolution
of gaming?
  well... teenage boy, "trapped",
by a video game,
what were my usual saturday mornings?
strapped to an PS1....
tenchu, metal gear solid...
       i am a gamer,
like most people are readers
on the *******...
      i'm here to play a game,
with indefinite time constraints,
as i am concerned about
  massaging my ****,
to ease my prostate concerns...
wankers.

          i'm still going to listen
to byzantine chants...
    because? modern gaming,
well, sure,
   it's, "free"...
but there are in-built
           payment processors...
additions, etc.,

   like me and my maine ****
cat,
      6 candles....
i know he wants to "escape"
via an open window,
but before he can "escape"
(i will let him put)...
he has to play a blinking
game with him,
i squirm, i close my eyes,
he does likewise...
  the candles are still lit...

but gaming has evolved...
"once upon a time"
you'd run into a games shop,
tongue waggling...
for the next big release...

      i know... i know...
war robots...
           that mobile game...
2 lame 2 blame...
that's my user name...
i haven't spent a dime / cent /
penny on this game...

what i do like,
is playing the game with
a...  ah! - - - - - - - - - -

but times have changed,
it was no longer about RPG games
akin to final fantasy VII,
and cheat books...

or playing Sims 3000 finding
the escape wormhole
of playing a Sim playing
a computer game: inside a computer
game...
            
when you bought a game for
$50 bucks...
and was never told:
it's "free"...
but then have to invest in
******* overpriced additions...

- - - - - - - - - handicap!
        i like war robots,
because?
       i like playing with a handicap!
the people who spend money?
mostly Koreans, Russians,
Kazakhs... H'americans,
Brazilians...
            you know,
what really evolved in gaming?
the chance to play in a non-NPC
environment...
   to play alongside live gamers...

that **** broke the ******* camels
****, sack, and *******...
last time i checked...
women were more into gaming
than the men were:
candy cwash saga...
   men fathomed gaming
via the narrative component...
but what of this additional
payments?!
in the good old days:
you paid 20 quid, you had your narrative...
now, "fwee"... but,
no wait... there are... additional
payments, you see?

i like playing a game,
handicapped...
in a free game environment...
when, your prized asset
is patience?
and all the rich arabs / russians
are spending money,

   and you, simply, wait...
and perfect your tactics?!
while they are buying up all
the "cheat codes"?
        sure... they'll serve the purpose
of staging 4000 battles...
you, eh... around 300+...
but their % rate?
      6... they have a 6% rate of success...
with 4000 or so battles...
while you?
           300+ battles?
roughly in the range of
60 - 50% success rate...
        gaming, has changed,
games were never "free",
as they are "free" now...
        
   hell, i'm not a gamer to be honest...
some people treat taking a ****
as the only time required to read
a book, i treat the same "timed" allowance
to play a game...

                 my mother is a gamer,
we've reached a moment in history where
women will play more mobile games
than ever boys would play,
video, narrative games...

          my mother is a gamer,
that's just eerie...
                   i have a second game
in tow....
   a blinking game with my maine ****
cat, surrounded by 6 candles...
oh he has the garden for the worth of
night...

but gaming has changed...
    i like the handicap dynamics of
war robots...
       like **** will i spend any money
on the game...
  i want to play against
the paying russians, chinese, arabs
and kazakhs....

          ******* - my favourite mode...
team work...
every single time i leave
my rogatka to jump and sprint
capturing beacons
when the battle is almost over...

thank **** i just bypassed
the evolution of PS1 into PS2 and PS3
and whatever else came...
     i missed about 10+ years of
gaming...
   and i hit the beehive jukebox...
of games without NPC characters...

i revised gaming at the right time,
when NPC disppeared,
completely,
and gaming became revised
by the internet live-event
game-membership.

man im actually playing lotr rotk man i can t believe it but i m havvin a nice time fckig wow love ps2

we're bombarded by the American Dream
but what we fail to realize
is that to dream, you have to be asleep
but remember, your soul is your own to keep

False consciousness runs rampant through the world
Ninety percent of American media owned by the same
five companies makes TV and the news seem so mundane
but when I think, I realize it's all of us to blame

the only power the system has is what we give
we need to let go of hate, and let live
when in Rome you step outside your comfort zone,
and when you expand your horizons,
the whole world can make you feel alone,

what I've come to realize is there is so much more than this
when we die all of our fear gives way to bliss
and on that spiritual transformation we can let go of what we miss
In each of our crowns lies the infinite
and we know that it doesn't matter, all the petty ****

According to Marx, economy is the root of society
and in capitalism, our thirst for money is ironic and funny
We seek to provide for ourselves and those we love
but when we have to much, the hand doesn't fit the glove

In every cellphone, laptop, and gaming device
lies a mineral mined behind our blind eyes
tantalum is mined in the Congo, and in 2000
people were forced from their poor housing
to mine this mineral so you and I
could get a ps2 from Santa, while they barely got by

I've learned even the poorest here,
Have opportunities barely realized,
We can change the world if we dismantle disguise
There is a balance for everything,

You can't have capitalism without socialism,
our social structure is but a prism

I slave over slabs of stone
To practice the art
Of being called an artist,
Falling behind consistently
Has taught me
That no many slabs
I slay by your bedside
And pray by every book
I will keep getting trophies
For showing up

Please, oh please!
Could I be good enough?
Yet the howls of the titans
That rest on my subconscious
Screeching on the windowsill on my cranium
That I'm not good enough

Funny
The Mating calls
These gods cry out to my fate
Reminds me of my mother.
Calmly mentioning the same phrase
When she threw my PS2
Down the hollow stair cases
That lead up to my innocence,
Teaching me that life isn't a game,
No matter how many times
I would reset it.
It would keep playing
The same thing.
Why oh Why
Do you fall short.

Why am I not good enough
To be remembered?
No matter what I scream
I seem to be stuck in this bubble of
Who?
Whats his name?
I keep forgetting
That I was targeted
As being Incredibly forgettable.
For my punishment
I shall sit there

Wait what?
How Was I going to finish this again?

once upon one time I had finery
I had Pac Man and a Ps2
I had a computer fast as lightning
that downloaded all the latest games
played them without a pause
and a silk robe to lounge around in
a virtual girlfriend, an I phone that
all my friends drooled over ,
Fifty Gigs of internet Wifi connectivity
and  no need for a job, then my wifi
and phone and Rent-a-Center sent me bills,
and even Fingerhut cut me off. Now I am working at Mc D's.

No *******, no poems. Nothing to hide behind. I remember listening to this Modest Mouse song, freshman year of high school. I had 20 bucks of **** **** socked away in a ps2. I had so many deep, but not intricate feelings. Maybe these are the best kind... It was a year of a fresh new start. I felt like the outcasts in all the halloween specials and ******* I had watched, as well as this tragically different being. I started hanging out with E. He's an indie wrestler nowadays. But back then we mostly smoked our cannabis, made jokes about historical events or political agendas. We were in a video production class. The class let us roam in and out and off of school grounds, missing other classes even. It was perfect. I met the older kids, we'd drive around, I just remember it now as sunny and a little chilly. I even lost my virginity that year. It was a train wreck of a relationship. Two people trying to hard to be older than they were. She was a senior then and had just lost her father... I still wonder sometimes if she's okay and I don't know why. It's not romantic worry, it's not hoping for reconnection, it's just a sentimental anxiety. It was a time of friends, running in nature and crunching leaves with my cross country team. It felt right. It felt so good to be old enough to be the freaks and the geeks all rolled in one. I didn't know then in 5 years who I'd be. I didn't know those people would fall away from me. My fitness would fall away from me. I wouldn't go to the library high with E anymore, shooting nonsensical politically engaged videos, full of bad hidden jokes and nearsighted irony. My sophomore year E stopped attending high school. We stopped talking so much. I haven't seen him in 3 years now. And only then it was a quick hello, his hair has grown so long. His eyes didn't look rebellious but lit with hope anymore, they didn't race. He looked older, real-er. Our momentary grasp on time and reality gave through the cracks in our hands. Now I sit at university. Barely scraping together classes for some mod-podge video art minor. Sometimes I feel like I like film because it reminds me of those old times. I still have fun, I still have experiences that ******* away, and at only 20, I'm sure I have many more to come. But I still can smell the cars and the schoolrooms, feel the trails and the weather, and taste the air and the packed lunches, from half a decade ago. I peaked in high school, and I'll never belong anywhere as much again.

I have never met you
And you don't even know I exist
But you have cast a spell on me
From which it would be very difficult to recover
Your eyes blaze with an intensity
That can even melt steel
Your smile is so beautiful
That it cannot be surpassed
Even by that of Mona Lisa
Your laugh is so musical
That even the songs of AR Rahman
Would pale in comparison
Your hairstyle is an art in itself
Your dress sense is so impeccable
That it would put even the finest Italian designers to shame
And last but not the least
We come to your acting
A Sri Lankan Tamil dancer *** revolutionary
In the movie "Jagame Thanthiram"
A humble and yet powerful boatwoman
In "PS1" and "PS2"
A fierce wrestler with short hair
Forced to become a submissive housewife with long hair
In "Gatta Kusthi"
And finally
A teacher dealing with troublesome students
As well as impending layoffs and rejected marriage proposals
In "Archana 31 Not Out"
Given any kind of role, you play it to perfection
Born with oodles of natural talent
You nevertheless refuse to rest on your laurels
And put your heart and soul
Into the profession which you hold so dear
You are an inspiration to one and all
Forced to do an MBBS
By your extremely conservative parents
You have nevertheless the courage
To break free of the shackles placed on you
And pursue your own dreams
What's more, the risks you have taken off
Have ultimately paid off
You are the numero uno of present day Mollywood
And flying high in Kollywood as well
Yes, you have cast a spell on me
But it was a spell, that I refused to resist
And rightly so

Right from the moment
Did I clap my eyes upon you
In the movie "Jagame Thanthiram"
Felt, did I
That, was there something special about you

Lies in you, a burning intensity
Which can reduce your enemies to dust
With the same frightening ease
Did the West Indies dominate cricket
Many a decade ago

Not a big role did you play in "PS1"
Or for that matter, "PS2"
However, come when your scenes did
So enraptured were we
Unable, were we
To take our eyes off you
Never had anyone played the role of "Poonguzhali"
With such simple elegance
Combined with wit and humour
Of the highest order

However, "Gatta Kusthi" was it
Where came you, into your own
Transitioning from a fiery wrestler
Into a traditional housewife
And back
With remarkable ease
The scene where you single-handedly took on those armed goons
And beat them to a pulp
As though it were child's play
Will remain etched in my mind forever
Seriously did I think
Hath arrived, a new superstar

Truly versatile, art thou
Thus did "Archana 31 Not out" prove
Where played you, the role of a teacher
Struggling to discipline a class full of troublemakers
And at the same time, facing a future full of uncertainties
Due to ongoing layoffs
Not to mention, facing rejection after rejection
When it cometh to marriage proposals
Quite the emotional rollercoaster did it turn out to be
And truly did you own the character
Rooting for "Archana", was I throughout
And when came the ******
Truly inspirational, was your speech
Showed us all, did you
The importance of taking our life in our own hands

Blessed with beauty, art thou
However, it stops not there
An exceptionally skilled actress are you
And a humble and down-to-earth person
Who, nevertheless, is afraid not
To speak her mind, no matter what
May you continue rocking and inspiring young artists
And shall the Lord bless you
With all the love, happiness, peace and prosperity in the world
Amen!

Last night the memory of you visited me
As I was chasing sleep
I'm not going to lie
I almost cried
Not sure why
You've been gone for awhile now
I'm sorry I didn't visit you as you laid in that hospital bed
Fight sickness in a coma
Your stronger then me
Doctors said you can hear
Just can't speak or respond
So it would've be useless right?
Like throwing a rock in a dried up pond
I'm sorry I we didnt stop by once in awhile like we did when we were kids
The visits stop **** I don't know why
But I remember when we did come around
You always cracked jokes
Guess I'm not the only clown
You made us laugh like you always do
**** tears are coming just at the thought of you
You couldn't walk
So we never heard your feet
You got around in that wheel chair like a pro
I remember playing foot ball on your ps2
And now that you gone I don't have much to say
But I remember that funeral like it was yesterday
Sitting there as everyone shared there stories of you
An I'm ashamed I didn't have one to say
But the pastor said we should celebrate your going away
So these memories of you you are happy
But it was my job to carry you away
And I feel honored I was picked
But you were heavy that first lift
Body empty as you were towed
An as we carried you to that truck
Thought my job was over I had enough
And as we got to that grave site I thought **** not again
Had my suit jacket off an everything
I'm such a ****
But let me make it clear it's not you I didn't want to lift
The sun was unforgiving that day
Shooting rays at my face
And as we pick you up once more
You were much lighter
You must have given me extra strength
Or the others just organized better
And as we laid you over your grave site
The man in charge said a everlasting prayer
And I would recite it if I could remember
He gave us flower petals to lay over your grave
And I kept one in my wallet for a rainy day
Your memory will never fade
Never die
And I can't wait till I see you again
Some day in the sky
I don't know when but I know it's only a matter of time
Love you uncle bunny
Forever your memory in my mind

lotr rotk on  ps2 __best ps2 game

Pet’s Revenge
For example a Dachshund dog was thrown 5 floors to his death
The owner photographed this and posted it online
His dog looked like he was sleeping but was dead

I tracked the Dachshund Dog’s Killer down and killed him
I put him in an 80s violent video game with block graphics
I hit him with a stabbing dagger in both shoulders
Then machete chopped half of his pinto skull off
Finally finishing him off with a flick knife in the gut

Next there was the case of the animal rescue centre
9 pussycats were murdered for no real reason
Except they were living in the centre

I drove up to the animal sanctuary in a Technical
I beeped and they opened the gates and I saw him
The Pussycat Murderer who swaggered about like a real man
I aimed my remote control 50 Cal gun with my PS2 controller
And popped the ******* with a hundred 50 Cal Raufoss rounds

A woman cut the foot off her dog with a machete
Because the dog annoyed his owner
All this was filmed and posted online

I found the Limping Woman who made her dog painfully limp
I said Hi and smirked then tightly tied her up
And had my way with her 25 times in a calendar day
Her ***** was sore and needed stitching due to the table leg
As did her feet when I sliced off all her **** toes

Most bizarre of all was the small dog
Who was partly skinned alive by his owner
This dog was rescued and given treatment

Dog Skinner was a hard man to find but not hard in a fight
I threw him a knife and said, ‘Skin me or be maimed...’
His lunges were slow and unskilled and embarrassing
I blocked them with one hand and closed my eyes
I snapped his spine with one single side kick

And a man drove his car and threw out his dog
Like a bit of trash with duct taped up feet and muzzle
The cops rescued the dog and jailed the man

I impersonated a Police Officer and ‘apprehended’ the suspect
Who had just been released from jail for leaving his pet dog for dead
He let me into his house and I Tasered the ******* and duct taped him up
I dragged Dog Duct Tape Man to my fake squad car and put him in the trunk
I drove him to a secluded spot and did a very enjoyable EJK

I enjoyed each and every act of Pet’s Revenge and ******
This is my new job and I always enjoy it and get away with it
I have backing from Big Brother and the Illuminated People

well, it was going to be a beautiful day, and it is a beautiful day, scorched grass patches, humidity to match that of Thailand... welcome to the Hot Age... well there was the Ice Age, no? there was Moses poetically summarising pre-history with: Noah was very real... more real than Britney Spears... history more real than insomniac journalism, fake history omni-present god replacing medium of writing ******* after ******* after more: swinging *******... but there's a plus side to this heat: angry-thinking... Freud can *******... what dream-interpretation? i have no dreams: and if i have dreams they're so already abstract that i don't need some coke-head to figure them out for me... i sometimes dream in sounds... maybe i should have been the next ******* Mozart! no! i don't have repressed-memories... i don't have repressive-memories: i have OPPRESSIVE-memories... i remember nuggets of gold from the time i was 4 years old... i guess i better leave some notes as i write and come back to them:

- sceptics vs. cynics Ezra Pound Taoist me vs. sceptics  (passion),
source of inspiration for this type of writing? Gombrowicz's Kronos...

i take out an imaginary leash and put it around my tongue:
hey presto! i'm walking a dog...
usually i walk a bottle of cider in the labyrinth
of outer-London suburbia...
i'm glad to be be 30 minutes away from Liverpool St.
by bus and train and 30 minutes' worth of walking
uphill to the biggest collection of...
well... "collection": an avenue of Wellingtonias...
Giant Redwoods (prehistoric pillars) -
        'which is one of only two plantations in the country'...
looks like i'm becoming a local boy...
i think i'm coupled with a gravity that's linear...
i'm less a falling body attached to some molten
iron core of the earth...
when again: what's up? what's down?
what's east and what's north outside the realm
of the winds, in the great divide between nature
and physics in the pupil of yawn-and-death-eating space?
no need to romance the man... someone's toilet paper
is already in pretend-mode of flapping...
so many myths of the moon died with:
one small step... another leap for... man and kangaroo...
i adore the laziness of sloths, turtles,
pandas... and koalas...
but then again: i don't think a lion is the king
of the natural world... i think the bear is...
that bulge of an omnivore... i like Russian thinking
when it comes to choosing emblems...
i like bears... i have this memory of being in the Danzig
zoo... walking into a bear enclosure...
mommy bear was watching... my mother was watching...
i walked up to a bear...
a baby bear, i was a baby too...
he started to nibble on my cardigan...
he must have bitten off about two buttons...
i ran back crying to my mum: he ate two of my buttons!
now i know: why i don't dream...
my memory faculty stretches far beyond what
most people have...
i think that's a welcome curiosity to have...
by the dictates of psychology:
you either remember... or? you dream...
i don't dream... i remember...
i can take you back to the first flashes
of brilliance aged 4... i can take you back to:
aged 5 or 6... when me and the two Kowalski brothers
first tasted coffee: granulated: instant...
obviously: we just became bored of sugary drinks...
that was a ******* gateway drug... back then...
why don't i dream? or why do i dream in
ciphers?
               ah... the memory bank...
i didn't allow pedagogy completely ruin me...
no wonder i treat the current job as a... hobby...
it truly is... crowd safety management is a hobby...
i like organising people:
one woman under my supervision already said:
you're the sort of person one would walk into
a fire for...
        i'm *******: gagging on these compliments...
i don't even think i'm deserving them:
if i am? so be it... if i'm not:
i can sniff a liar pretty quickly...
liars / lies don't walk on stilts...
       they re ******* midgets...
                         i sometimes like seeing myself in full element:
it will be: the most trivial thing that will
set me off...
   my nickname(s) in high-school?
Goldilocks (because i had long hair done into
a French braid from time to time)
Hulk: when i showed my truer face and...
   "that guy with the weird fruit"...
i did eat a lot of passion fruits, pomegranates,
Sharon(s)... etc. etc.
hmm... i'm pretty sure i wasn't supposed to work
the 20th at Fulham...
guess i'm just forever freely available these days...
people can just put me up for any shift without
me complaining:
no wife, no kids... ms. amber and Sophia...
fair enough... mind you: i like the commute...
and seeing the Thames is rather refreshing...
the weirdest river known to man...
mind you: it is an island river...
what ******* river as concept of river of flow
has TIDE written all over it?!
rivers flow... rivers shouldn't behave like seas!
how does that work?
the membrane "event horizon" of the Thames...
and... the north sea?!
huh?!

i sometimes hate London...
back in Edinburgh i used to wake up with a geographical
clarity...
the Firth of Forth helped a lot...
i knew where east was... i knew where north was...
and west and the south...
in London? even if i cycle toward that old Serpent
and Father Thames: i still don't ******* know:
i look across the river: oh right... that's north...
no! that's south you dim-whit!
ugh... i once saw London from an aerial perspective:
flying from Barcelona to Edinburgh...
so we were passing this massive lit-BLOB...
what the **** is this? i thought...
then i noticed Canary Wharf blinking... oh... right...
London!

oh mate... iT IS M'AH... MASSIVE!
it must have taken us abut five minutes to fly over that
giant sponge of civilisation... well:
paying due compliments... but it was HUGE!
it's worth seeing once: during the night...
but only once...
the rest of the time?

i must have mentioned it prior:
bicycle tyre problems...
Chadwell Heath the point of call...
the Halford's corporation couldn't **** me
a pigeon out of a penguin's *******
because: their mechanic was away until the end of
August: Bicycle King instead: done by Friday...
in the meantime i went for a pint of Guinness...

weird... you smile at a guy talking about women
on some other table... you're not weird...
you're just making an approach...
casual conversation *******...
hey presto... you acknowledge each other's presence...
and the chat takes off...
work, music, the weather... you name it...
whatever comes to mind...
it was so refreshing... it almost felt like being
soldiers on the western front: in the trenches...
breaking ***** and marking banter
on our crippled souls...
we probably had loving mothers...
but our experiences with women were:
let's just say cats and dogs loved us more...
we could actually joke with these creatures...

i said i brought a leash for my tongue...
i didn't say i brought the muzzle...
my tongue my dog
mea lingua mea canis!
              paro dictata:
i set the rules!
                                 n'est ce pas?!

there's nothing necessary to inquire for feeble men:
beside... what is necessary for what it
feeble per se...

now: for a sample of Gombrowicz's Kronos
note-taking, extravaganza!

chadwell heath pub promenade
bbq amazing...
missing: doing a refill, smoking a cigarette.
ginger brat: shivers:
      Ovid, book III, opening...
three unusual muses...
reading: music... ****** lyricism...

- and if i dream? strange... i only seem to dream of:
dentes: teeth!
there was this myth concerning my maternal
great-grandfather... how he had pristine
teeth... he used to eat sugar cubes like
a horse might eat apples...
he was the one who dumped a whole load of coffee
beans into the river: Kamienna...
the Stone River...
NN...an oddity in the ****** tongue...
you utter the double N with  stutter...
n'ah n'ah...
                   there ought to be a letter for this
example... oddity...
it can't just be a double N...

                       that's not for me to discover
or apply... but he basically dumped sacks of coffee
beans into the river... long before anyone
in the Slavic lands... on the periphery of civilisation
knew what coffee was used for...
Francis was his name...
he's my earliest memory...
maybe that's why i have dream inhibitions...
my long surviving memory is of him:
as shadow...
playing the piano...
putting me next to a toy piano
and the pair of us playing...

i have grown into a horrid man...
i'm currently listening to:
the Davy Jones' theme from pirates of
the Caribbean... and...
it's not that i'm afraid of death
or falling asleep: i just think the two
are a proper waste of time...
if i can remember living from the age of four:
why would i require a need to dream?
my memory has bypassed all that erosion
from pedagogic investments into creating
a workforce...
i don't need escapism via dreams...
i have my memory for that!

one crescendo two crescendo three!
four crescendo five crescendo six!

America spews forward *******...
i'm not ally to this current agenda... you know what
i think? i think the Russians are doing
a ****** marvelous "thing" in Ukraine...
much better than Americans in either Iraq
or Afghanistan.... much better:
less a proxy war: more a practical war:
a chess-war... a war of: consequences!

ha ha... the meme that somehow the Africans are
Orcs... the warring types...
the Mongols weren't?
oh sure sure... the English etymological roots
of Slav = Slav(e)... sure... sure...
this is my pet peeve!
my iris and sclera disappear whenever i see someone
make that statement...
i go: ha ha! BONKERS!
what African people ever conquered whatever
part of the world except their own people
which they sold into slavery?!
see! BONKERS!
i go... absolutely ******* gloriously MAD!

i've ben given absolutely:
diagnosed: mad... let me abuse the terminology / diagnosis
a little! because?! ha ha! i'm exempt from
standard prosecution! i can always succumb
to the insanity plea!
i have back-up memorandum queues...
these normal people are just: these normal people...
boorish and above all boring as ****-goes-on-holiday...

i know why i don't dream...
photographs are useless...
me taking a a photograph when i was at most lowest,
fattest? when i took the photograph:
i looked rather thin...
but? when someone else took a photograph
of me sitting in front of a Christmas dinner:
a ******* porky pie...
i don't know how cameras work:
obscurity of the eye of the beholder...
fused with the technicality of the added
technological specimen... hmm...
curiously more curious...

           i know why i don't dream: i have a very poignant
memory in my brain:
the memory of my great-grandfather as a shadow...
here: i place my focus for entering Tartarus...
beyond the already familiar depths of Hades...
i need more! i need to go deeper...
i don't dream because i have a memory of my
great-grandfather as a shadow!
darkness abounds!

                abundo tenebris!
umbra *** umbra venio hic...
(shadow with shadow come here):
i see no need for Sabbaths or for witches...
i need shadows and shadows of shadows...
and thoughts as splinters and trees as fire and ash...
i need! HORROR!
   i need the current people to live their lives
as passively as must be met:
while i quietly pass... pass as the angel of death passed
as the final plague that befell Egypt!
listen! listen! ever so... quietly!
i need them lullabied... oblivious to the SUFLER:
speaking cues to the actors on stage!
LET, ME, PASS!

                some ******* idiot will get in my way?
i will... sacrifice a lamb: and salvage a wasp!

- it was at work at the Wembley Stadium that i first
spotted a doe (female deer) embodied by a woman,
it's so rare to find that LOOK: deer in headlights...
frightened stiff about to be taken for grass by a lawnmower...
mature woman... i'm guessing in her 40s...
all the sort of details a boy would expect from
a ****... seriously... curves, *******, ***...
although: scared eyes, perhaps even scarred eyes...
i kept glancing under my sunglasses,
she kept glancing: irritated somewhat: irritated-fearful,
as if she met destiny and it wasn't what she
was expecting...
            what a beautifully bountiful specimen of
fetishes i've been fed over the years in the medium
of *******...
sure, it's summer now, and all the young and fertile
women are walking around the streets like
its a nudist beach in the French Riviera...
oh man: such under-developed bodies...
bodies that are yet to experience the crunch of ***...

i try to think about how pedophiles think...
then i get the picture...
scrambled eggs... i like they almost burnt...
i hate well-done overcooked beef in the form of a stake...
i need it rare or medium, **** it... even blue will do...
eggs? i can't have them underdone...
i know people who like runny scrambled eggs...
you can eat undercooked beef and pork:
but undercooked chicken? it's slimy...
it's like eating slugs... plus the salmonella...
plus... it feels like raw sea-food...
that's how i look at women who have not arrived
at any ****** potential...
it's ******* ****-ugly... builder-Bob's hairy *** crack
when his blue jeans droop...

young women are like undercooked chicken...
mature women are like rare beef...
BLOOD... JUICE... NO ORANGES...
     it's filth it's suckling it's the monstrosity of coming
to her **** after she just spent a year or so
feeding some rugrat with her *******...
it's macabre, it's... nature...
it's ******* a woman like that thinking:
ooh oops... when will she turn into a Mantis?!
it's like having a bicycle accident... falling head first
over the handlebars and leaving permanent
"tattoos" on your forehead... getting up and exclaiming...
i just saw Francis Bacon paint a **** while ****!
ffff-ucking spectacular! i don't need to ingest
any lysergic acid... i'm good with the head-traumas...
disorientating at first: but orientating after...

more life, more blood, more grime more filth!
more more! MORE!
mind you, is that 'e" at the end of more really necessary?
you don't really say: aMorÉ... do you?
it's not more vs. moor... ooh... i just thirst for fiddly
bits in language... and English?
it's the devil's playground... if Poland is god's
equivalent...
you know... it took **** Germany AND Soviet
Russia to subdue Poland... longer...
than it took **** Germany to subdue France...

oh to hell with the current exported trend of culture
from H'america: white apologetics...
i don't share your history: i've been woken up
from a trinity-partition... i'm not apologising
for ****!
   i think i'd look great in an SS-mensch uniform...
i like black from time to time...
i have thoughts of Karl Lagerfeld's style...
just pretend you're donning fur...
the cat isn't clothed... you're right: #metoo!
i'll done and adore the colours of the hearth...
i'll burn bright in auburn...
in browns and in greens...
    i'll become a... ******* talking tree!

enough!
         too many idiots are running this ****-show...
grammar lessons from people with an IQ of 60...
i'm checking out!
  bye bye...
  inflated overbearing baron-demons of want...
how easily they allowed me to dehumanise them...
i look at black flies and think: ooh!
just the right sort of tickle!
   people have created people like me...

how i can simply have casual *** with prostitutes
without using a ****** and not worry
about any STGs...
sexually transmitted diseases...
i probably drank enough milk in my youth...
broken bones? nope...
but outgrowths of bone? yep...
that's true... i have one on my shin...
hardly a ballerina in me bewildered by a tutu...
i don't break bones:
i leave outgrowths...

hmm... time for a new meditation...
the serpents can be left alone...
two serpents in a pickling jar? a DNA helix...
or... dragons?! fire...
the great meteor when the moon failed
to protect the earth... fire breathing
giant lizards... dinosaurs...
that, meditation: is over...
time to turn to insects... hmm... flies...
wasps...
i like that... the way wasps are born:
pure Darwinism:
insect and parasite combined...
                the larva is shoved into an unsuspecting
body of a worm...
the larva is born and starts...
eating the worm from the inside: out...
imitation cuckoo bird...
sort of the same principle...

                 has Darwinism been truly applied?
has it?! has it?! i call an obstacle i find in man
either: THING... or the OTHER...
ha ha... pronouns... ha ha... ah ha ha... pronouns...
yeah: these people have one:
IT...
                 i'm just a theological mercenary...
either the descent of god or the ascendance of the devil:
the wind blows in all four geographical vectors...
as a ****** they could have sold me Protestantism,
Catholicism, Communism... ******... blah blah...
this... woke little **** of: thank you: but i rather sleep,
is... supposed to what?! make me quake in my boots!
hold hold... let me just twinkle my toes...
do i have... socks on my feet? wait wait...
mmm... furry-toes... yeah: i have socks on...

being the massive fan of both the Red Hot Chilli Pappers
and William Burroughs:
hell only knows where these idle hands will
travel...
i love my bedroom in the night with no lights
on... insatiable: the drummer-instinct in me...
i can't help grooving to EASILY
and AROUND THE WORLD...
hands joined to the torso...
hands attached to hands... no saucepans...
**** it... thighs knees and the head will simply do...
i need to chase after my heartbeat...
out-chase it...

but in the darkness by the silver milk of the moon's
rays... my naked body impressed against the backdrop
of constellations...
Azog the Pale Orc and his Warg Matriarch...
well... mine is ginger and he's no matriarch...
he's a castrated ginger Maine ****...
yes... let's get carried away...
                because the comparison of Africans as Orcs
is a disrespected for me...
the English knowledge of etymology
of Slav = Slav(e) is also slightly off...

just like Billy Joel sang while sifting through sand
to find bones and rocks:
just like the post-Soviets in Ukraine
and H'americans in Iraq and Afghanistan...
what African people conquered any "polite" plot
of land outside of Africa? who?! the "Orcs"?
who are the slaves?
who's anyone, mind you?

Shaolin monk style questing:
i abhor the sceptics... i have this inherent hatred for
the sceptics like Ezra Pound abhorred the Taoists...
i can't: stand their... adamant... pride...
their neglect of being humbled...
how do you learn the concept of humbling?
by being humbled...
and how do you counter the concept of humbling?
upon being humbled:
you transcend and do not: humble...
whenever i was made a makeshift supervisor...
i didn't humble people...
i was caretaker...
because just don't get the whole idea...
they have partial clues regarding the idea of
the function...
today i caught a green-bell fly with my index and
thumb... i took a photograph of my "adventure":
as you do...
because it wasn't me stretching easily melting cheese...
so i guess that's a plus...

i hate scepticism...
you ******* don't know the basic principles of
1 + 1 = 2... CAUSALITY...
seriously? the fire that erupted in that tiny village
of Wennigton was like...
CAUSE + EFFECT = CAUSALIY...
so... i blow up a balloon up with my breath?
carbon dioxide... the balloon will sink...
i inflate it with helium, what? the balloon rises...

what's the impact i have by cycling to where
i need to go? no impact...
well... some extra traffic...
i might overheat my rubber, no?
but in terms of fuel? yes... carbohydrates
in my body... i need to peddle...
what am i burning? my own momentum...
i'm not burning any dinosaur fuel or gas...
i'm mobile... more mobile that people
who overuse their mobile phones...
there was a point: once upon a time:
for telephones to be left stationary...

  i abhor the sceptics: they're like the worst bad joke bad
jokers...
the canine cynics i can understand:
i can understand their cynicism:
fear the dog that fears its owner...
we're currently the dogs in fear of their own
fate: our owner...

i have oppressive memories...
that's why i don't dream... what interpretation
could Freud give:
and all that pedagogic erosioin fron learning
"skills": what skills? that would envision me
as having traction in the workforce?
zilch! nada! nothing! i just think of those poor
people who have recurrent dreams...
poor *******: how can you become so *******
as to have recurrent dreams?
70cl of whiskey won't help?
waking up at 8am the next day...
anxious out of both brain and freeze won't help?
not sure whether vomiting or taking a ****
will ease your burden, that confusion
won't help?!
**** me...
                   **** it... jump off a cliff...
paying close attention to the sunset...
maybe that might help...
                  i can't help you luvvy dubby... teddy...
please don't try to hug me...
i've seen how that works in the workforce...
one bubbly gal... all purple hai with
a hiding twitch in her hair...
   hugs me...
i just misheard a word she uttered...
she said darling: i thought she said daddy...
every since it has become a *******
schtick!
                 ugh... it's like... my ******* *******
tuching glue...
would i like erecticle dysfunction? yes please...
so i'm greeting this big girl with a hug...
the one i'm more interested in...
she's ginger: i have a ginger-fetish...
i think of her as: MOUSE...
anyway...

      let's get the party people pout and get them
the **** out of the way...
i will not describe to them that i have...
an inkling into right-wing politics...
i'm a fascistic nut...
   blah blah...
                    i get the purple-haired frogs out
of the way... by? hugging them...
i get onto the mouse... ooh... the dynamic changes...
i can't hug her...
the purple haired lesbian-fatso wants hugs:
i give her hugs...
but the mouse is special...
she's ginger...
             i love gingers...

i address her with a hand... extended...
she's not a man... therefore? she doesn't perform a handshake...
she.... hmm...
i'm a daddy... about to give my daughter
an ice-cream cone...
  she grips my fingers in the wrong way
that hands out to meet upon greeting...
she grips my fingers... on the wrong side...
i feel: oddly... left-handed...

i thank god and the democracy of satans
for the simple fact that:
none of these people will ever care to wonder
where i spend some of my nights...
ha ha...
oh please... ***** please...
i spend them with prostitutes...
you think i'm that quick to quiver?!
seriously?
i love a game of cards more than i enjoy a game
of chess: after all: it's one game after another...

games... games...
i used to be a big gamer in my early teenage-hood...
i couldn't be separated from my PS1 console
during the weekend...
i begged for a PS2... didn't get one...
i guess gaming caught up to me...

the gaming experience coupled with the internet...
ah... mind-mining...
teaming up... war robot games...
my thrill has finally come...
war robots... mech arena...
better still... the agenda of credit...
me? it's free, isn't it? well then...
but you manage to spot the people who invest
money in something:
they're usually skill-less: not exactly team-players...
esp. when it come to a game that
focuses on two objectives...
winning or losing is just a byproduct...
(a) gaining authority over control points
(b) destroying all the opposite side's mechs...
time frame? 10 minutes in war robots...
5 minutes in mech arena...
plenty of time to contemplate taking a ****...
mind you: either i dilate my ****
and ease out a **** by jerking off to a pair of ****
or i play an interactive game...
on the throne of thrones...
i could be wearing a crown of: dust...
and it would still matter... whether the plumbing works:
or doesn't...

i seriously had to wait for gaming to catch up with
my desired DIET of gaming...
i had to wait for the internet to evolve...
i required an arena... a lottery of... value...
competent players versus incompetent players...
players willing to hone in on their skills for free...
and players... lazy enough to invest money
that is otherwise unnecessarily invested in a game...

i'm coming back to gaming...
i can du soku... ****... su doku  by myself...
what need for crossword puzzles when you're already
a crossword puzzle of bilingualism?
sure... i have polyglot interests...
the concept of RENDAKU springs to mind...
as expressed in ORIGAMI:
                        g = k.... TOE-MAY-TOES...
T'OH-M'AH-TOES...
  
        hey! the people of the never-setting sun!
you're not much different, n'est ce pas?!
but there's a more obvious RENDAKU...
theta phi V...
alTHough... THought... and...
             PH = TH = F...
    but "F" = V... via TH...
                   the Fe? or the V'eh in THE point?!
i'll bring this tower of Babel to crumble before
my toes and then, and then:
i'll kneel among the rubble!
too much of Hell's ambitions have been sung by men
for Hell to simply: wallow in Heaven's tyranny
of absence!
                    we're here...
whoever we are: it doesn't matter...
                       one variant attired to another...
we're mechanisations to counter the absence of human
spirit...
we're the *****-slapping crew...
i pray to god that i'm not alone in my ambitions...
not that i pray...

this posting will have to wait...
i have a shift at Wembley tomorrow...
Coldplay... it's not like i hate them: i just don't love them...
it will be a dross...
but this posting will have to wait... i might have
to stop over at the brothel to ease my brain from
having ownership of a head...
i'll think about it...
depends on... a number of factors...

for the time being... mosquitos... caught... donning
donning boxing gloves... by the *******...
or... flies... catching them by the legs...
with naked fingers...
ooh... i love those pristine *******...
the green-bells... fertile *******...
they **** more maggots than they eat...
black flies are priests...
i like the tickling sensation insects leave
on a naked body... esp. when they don't deposit any
embryos... of their own...
**** me: wasps and my eye...
i would: most probably: punch myself to death if that
ever happened...
ergo? there's a god...
ergo? simple people make life pristine all the more
difficult...
no one has problems with competent people...
no one... idiots make this world worse
than the best it already is...
the ******* god of norms...
"calculations"... exhibits A and exhibits B...
i'm getting tired of this Atlas pause...
i'm waiting for Darwinism-proper kicks in...
when the dimension of agony-scrutiny and: RE-ALITY
cometh...

no one is going to dictate my useage of
the English language beside an authentic English-man!
no one!
no one... oh... but i'm siding with the Russians...
no one sided with the Iraqis when Iraq
was invaded... no one sided with the Afghans
when Afghanistan was invaded...
**** the Ukrainians: i'm not siding with them...
Cossacks undermined the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth... sold it to the Ottoman barbers...
**** them...
i'm on the side of the Russians...
which makes listening to western journalistic
narratives a miracle of escapism...
i began, to, stop, reading, pointless, books:
already, pointless, to, begin, reading! ******* bravo!
extend the concept of starvation!

no no... now we're talking more... we need more...
there's only one guilt trip associated with hell...
gluttony: the gluttony of death...
there are never enough dead people!
hmm! ******* weird!
why aren't there enough dead people?!

can't you *******, just, die?!
    sure: i'm equally man...
by no summary i am no exception...
perhaps... i'm some variation of an exception
akin to: i bite an apple: i... "taste" water...
wait a minute: you can't "taste" water...
since... water is tasteless...
how pow! either the apple is imaginary
or my taste of the apple is imaginary:
or my ability to taste is imaginary...
or... well... there was no apple to begin with...

ha ha... by now all of philosophy is not a question
but an answer: i just don't care...
and? i just don't care...
it's a must of: there's too much...
and there's too little...
      it's clearly beyond any prior concern
of GOOD and EVIL...
there's just too much... and there's too little...
there are new-rule absolutes...

only a dutious scarab of a servant might acknowledge
this conundrum...
we have moved beyond the gravity of language
concerning a good and an evil...
there? is either too little...
or there's too much! for the time being: problem solved:
i.e. problem staged: therefore: not solved!
hell yawns! more of these i.q. deficient mongrels!

yes, i abhor the sceptics with a similar passion
that Socrates ascribed the sophists,
with equal passion Ezra Pound ascribed his passionate
hatred for the the Taoits...
i ascribe equal measure to the sceptics...
i can bark dog with the cynics...
i like cynicism... i abhor scepticism:
they're so ridiculous ridiculous...
to them? the casausality bound to the physics is
non-existent...

mind you... i don't know what i'm doing with this
poo'em...
i have already broken several instances
of keeping up to the up-keep of
エンソー...

                  **** me... even the Japanese use diacritical
markers, the English are forever adamant
in not using any... even though there's an example
of レンダク (rendaku) in almost every word that arrives
at the "suspicion) of THETA contra PHI...
TH = D in there's a point...
TH = F in there's thinking invoked...
THE= V: THE point...

it has taken me too many takes to complete this piece
with too many interludes of
either staring at my shadow or blinking at the sun...
i will need to abandon this poem at some point...
not that it's unfinished:
it's only that i require a readership of squaters
to venture in its dynamic...
new "things" happened... i need to write about them...
too much happened today for me to want
to perfect this:
i already wasted about half an hour looking
for my headphones...
father... i know i placed them in some easily
re-find location... what did he do?
he stashed my headphones in a drawer with
his shoes and shoelaces...
   apparently too inconvenient...
a lunatic walking around the house with a searchlight
trying to find them...
                no, this poem is becoming silly...

i'm trying to think of a greater joy than that
of: drinking cheap wine
in the form of kalimotxo...
i'm trying to think: so much for thinking:
let alone trying...
i was doing some gardening today
since the weather allowed it to be done...
trimmed the evergreen bush...
this other Japanese bush of tenderness...
mowed the grass...
and by some "miracle" of absent-mindedness
i managed to cut the cable...
the fuses in the house popped out...
flicked them back on...
i wasn't "there": had to cut the cable
expose the copper wiring
and "connect the dots"...
   absent-mindedness: guilty of cognitive
negligence...
why? well a wire usually has two streams...
one encased in blue rubber
one encased in brown rubber...
what did i do?
technical man... ha...
i fiddled the two streams together...
the arteries with the veins: as it were...
the fuses popped out once more...
mind you: rarely can an appliance break:
if you first check the plug fuse...
the **** thing comes back to life:
regardless...
an unbelievable faux pas...
first encase the blue copper wiring...
exclusively... then encase the brown
copper wiring... and then...
bundle the two together...
but... since this was a demand of chores:
i was most probably thinking
about the joys of cheap wine...
i've tried it: the more expensive the less
joy in it...
perhaps i was thinking about that
Turkish ******* and... how...
she'll be gone in a year's time... perhaps more...
will i wait that long...
another hour with her:
i'll even bring her a signed copy
of a book of verse i published...
i'll get to the bottom of knowing her name...
drinking cheap wine
is a bit like riding a bicycle in the night:
or walking into the forest: also at night...
esp. when it's autumn and its dry
and the leaves murmur a polyphony
or rustle... crunch... hell: if ol' baldy is there
too in the sky... and you catch glimmers
of him through the branches that
begin to resemble cobwebs with your
one eye squinting...
just now, though...
i came across a video...
'the great gaming crisis' - thinking-agape...
not judging: men still in their 30s playing
consoles...
my last memory of gaming came
in the form of PS1: final fantasy seven...
tenchu... metal gear solid...
i wanted a PS2 so badly...
dead end...
eh... the odd spell of Rome Total War...
or Medieval Total War...
but even that fizzled out...
having invested in vinyl...
and more music... it's all music...
an old mix tape: where i surrendered
to "guilty pleasures"... mostly pop...
i'm a sucker for pop:

manfred mann - doo wah diddy diddy
the monkees - i'm a believer
joan jett - i love rock & roll
the rembrandts - i'll be there for you
phantom planet - california
sixpence none the richer - kiss me
suzanne vega - luka
madonna - beautiful stranger
eagle eye sherry - save tonight
leonard cohen - take this longing
belinda carlisle - heaven is a place on earth
deep blue something - breakfast at tiffany's
the cranberries - dreams
the connells - 74 75
4 non blondes - what's going on
leonard cohen - in my secret life...

drinking cheap wine might be deemed a guilty
pleasure...
for all the riches in the world...
give me all the emptiness of the head
and all the stone-grip of the heart...
what's the alternative?
stay sober: play video games...
it's hardly a reciprocation within the confines
of backgammon...
i tend to never touch chess:
su doku... that's me:
no room for crosswords...
i'm playing a game of stalemate with words
as we speak: i don't need clued avenues of
dictionary / encycloepedic entries...

no... i don't want to be a Buddha story:
to have it all and then give it up...
me? i want a trickle of having it all:
but at the same time: not having it...
a rare injection of: the banality of the carnal...

besides... what scene of horror gripped me
most?
in Amsterdam i spent an afternoon
with two Germans...
we went back to the hostel... an Egyptian armed
with a bottle of Absolut ***** and a joint...
i spent the next day with him...
he smoked... i drank beer...
he introduced me to Le Trio Joubran
and gave me a single **** of a joint...
while putting headphones into my ears...
my jaw dropped and i sat there
mesmerized by the abyss that my self
had become...
i must have looked like a ****** *****
i saluted a girl with a V (not for 5 or peace...
V for: i'd like that oyster... very much)
she sat there in awe:
no bigger awe that i was in...
we walked back to the hostel while i laughed
in the street...
those two Germans?
me and this Egyptian: an architecture student:
great at cartoon doodling...
we looked at each other with horror...
in the dark lit room...
the two Germans just ingested some
mushrooms and...
   ended up... watching American Dad cartoons
on the t.v.

- you heard stories from London about stabbings
and idiotic cyclists playing the wild card of
solipsists en route to something unimportant...
headphones in...
eye in the back of my head...
the thrill of the roundabout... always looking
out for a speed ticket...
usually an ambulance...
or just gagging for something than might
**** me... the momentum of a large
truck... always exposing myself from
the thrill of the blind-spot... swerving into
the eye-sight of the driver in the mirror
on the outside of the lane...
large gear into 3... small gears beginning at
3 working through to 6 for a sensation
of cruising in a convertible at night...

the bulging sensation of having a pulse...
in the legs and in the constraining sensation
of the torso being endowed with muscle...
watching the first proper summer
lightning and thunderstorm...
watching how the rain turned to hale...

underworld: born slippy...
if only i had the sort of chemical nostalgia
surrounding the end of the 20th century...
lucky me if she'll offer some angel dust
to sniff... she'll disappear in a year's time:
i'm not going to give up
that sort of ******* any time soon...

it's all true what William Burroughs is known
for having cited:
never a wasted moment with cats...
they'll dream for me...
dogs? that ******* leash...
and... toilet hours...
cats like plants: they can entertain themselves...
they don't need to be recognised
as cats... as pets... as hierarchical cretins...
although: children should be raised with
dogs if they don't have siblings...
cats come later... much later:
when the peers have hammered in
a preservation construct of their genes...
waiting game before child becomes
the automated self-fulfilling will:
how soon: sooner than never those...
happy pictures of having offspring will...
fizzle out...

i could sometimes be bound to watching old
movies while admiring the beauty of
seemingly ancient actresses...
then came a moment in my life where:
i stashed enough memories
for them to become a cinema:
while i played the leading role...

and as i aged: i became less and less angry
with youth... i stopped being the
"angry young man":
my anger was rooted in youth: per se...
perhaps i'm tinged with melancholy now...
but i'm hardly the repressed-depressed
reflex symptom carrier:
i like the romance of the melancholic
reflection... i don't know the i.q. scrutiny of
my sense of humour:
given i'm inclined to laugh at impromptus
that don't deserve much thought:
innuendo... or whatever you want to name it...

a scuttle for truths from advertisement:
this is why i don't like international football...
this is why i prefer club football...
i don't want to belong to some "whole":
so "entirety" when all it is: is a game of 22 ballerinas
kicking about a guillotine dead of
****** into: sensibly done...

now... me sober occupied with gaming or me...
drinking scribbling this...
best case scenario:
i'll be choking on my ***** of happy Cheerios:
oh look... here's a loop... here's another loop...
here's a cut-back...

come 2am i will leave life encrusted with all
the necessary impromptus:
because... this load of bollocking (on my part)
will still preserve itself as being: best left alone...
unscripted...
which is why i wondered: what of the tenacity
of these actors... their gargantuan gloat...
oh... right... they're only so because
they have been... scripted...
i am the antithesis of actor...
i'm looking for my whip-tongue from time to time...
i can't find it... if i were an obnoxious woman
in need of soap-opera company i'd be on
the ready...

       last time i heard...
a small dog barks...
a large dog... bites...
a wolf can't bark...
what am i... a barker... a howler...
or a biter?
never mind...
i see it as follows:
i'll cycle and spare myself the excess
calculation of the 20 odd mile
from the outer-reaches of what's
considered London...
into Hyde Park...
i'll drop to the height of pansies...
wrap my legs around my bicycle frame...
and drink a bottle of Merlot lying
back... sipped through the side of my mouth...
like a drip... drip... drip...
i've... had enough!

i'll expect myself to be peered at...
better that than... imitating
voyeurism not expected in a brothel...
to be seen is to be:
in some, questionable... heights of Frankish thought...
well... let it be known that i might be seen...
to hell with the whims of pissy-pants ms. chastity
who later feigns a lost "free-will"
among the... Pakistani abusers...
to hell with her:
give me the ol' raven haired Turkic woman!

wine wine more wine!
i don't want to hear another iota's worth
of a woman's whining!
and now the grave warm with
her expectations...
you bring women to the fore...
you can't expect the war to end:
any time soon... esp. this... "culture war":
death by proxy...
to hell with it...
           a war: a supposed war
where: no one dies... but everyone else
i numb-skulled senseless seeking out
positively-passive narratives...

i like the idea of cycling behind a greater
momentum than i can ever have...
behind a truck of concrete behind a truck
of ash...
behind a truck of solipsistic dunces coming across
the altar of sacrifice...
so far so good: concerning my wedding with
death... tight grieving ***** with tattoos of dates
and all her: crocodile tears...
almost as if a mother that...
no... sooner a sister i'd want to ****...
because: all that's good feels false...
and all that's evil is a conundrum of thinking
too much about, it...

all that same **** different cover
moral lingo...

mistletoe: a variation of: cancer:
botanical cancer...
i'll be feeding my sleeper cancer cells
some poison a while...
all those trees coming up to Warsaw
equipped with afro-bundles of
jemioła...

unlike dogs: dogs recognise drunks...
dogs don't allow drunks to get: tender...
cats? eh... a drunk will pass them by
with smooches...
my grandfather was a drunk...
and a solipsistic fiend...
my grandmother knew...
now she's happily widowed:
but my mother has this pristine
effigy of her father that...
boils under my skin...
that's simply not true...
the problems started when he retired...
and the entire shift of
the satellite-state post-Soviet
metallurgy industry came to a halt...

for the love of dogs: but not the leash
or the muzzle...
i can disown a concern for either
in the domain of the bonsai tigers:
i can: and since i can: i will!

cheap wine... nothing comes close:
except... relapses into spineless love
being adorned with an hour's worth
with a *******...
two bottle of red wine...
lord of mosquitos: nameless...
give me more!
between the cling to climbing mt. Everest...
and second sights of looking
at a naked body of a woman...

chase the tides!
put a stick into a river and will
a change of flow!
i'll go twice mad
looking at this altar before
i'm even once alive: therefore twice dead...
it's not her raven hair..
her ****** contorts when she follows
up on ******* with a kiss...
may i sacrifice her hands:
before the ice and the fire...
hands: one knuckle "short"...
it took me 4 years sleeping: bypassing my libido
to "somehow" suddenly wake up...

that old thirst for... underperforming yet
all that body that's heat...
toward Hyde Park...
drinking a bottle of wine while...
reclining: i'm not denying the fact
that certain words rhyme...
ancient Roman poets weren't lyricists...
they were: prosaic masters...

   scurror ego ipse mihi, populo tu:
rectius hoc et splendidius multo est.
   equos ut me portet, alat rex,
officium facio: tu poscis vilia -
           verum dante minor, quamvis fers te
nullius egentem...

utrius horum verba probes et facta, doce,
vel iunior audi...

i, joker unto myself i am,
but you unto the people;
i live better, moreover lightly,
a steed by the will of the lord lifts me :
the king feeds...
you, thus... begging...
        lash out and so tow horribly...
you are the sire... without...
needs...

no one is expected to sing these words...
2000 years from now:
i presume them to be cited:
once... the English tongue comes across
an impossible transformation:
that this here: now... tongue...
becomes... unrecognisable...
like Latin is to the modern amore! amore! Italian...
no?

  between the sight of the mountain:
or the sea... my death... and the sight of a body of
a naked woman...
i will forever cling to the latter:
starve me some more!
more! but don't expect me to be the pawn
in the supposedly sufficient "games"...

that i grieve these stones
and a softness i hardly begin to fathom as:
welcome... that my words are the illuminations
of a chapter lost...
a paragraph first written...
i will not allow time to be kind...
i will want time: to... shackle me toward
an unforgiving tide...
drown my sorrows in the croaking
of the priesthood of crows!
come i resurrected:
with any eye that's worth a
clepsydra's libra.

i'm not much of a gamer,
i stopped on PS1...
   now... if i actually saved enough
money for a PS2...
i would have been a gamer
for a while longer...
so ****** graphics is when
i left the whole carousel...
    but i somehow made a comeback...
on the toilet...
   so what... 20 minutes a day?
some people reads books
on the throne of thrones...
          now that's bad...
         and in light of the current
youtube banning of...
what's his name rikkaku?
   rikakikaku?
   you might know the story...
he plays a game,
punches a feminist in...
what's that game called?
   red dead redemption 2?
     anyways...
   i currently play War Robots...
(2 lame 2 blame user)...
but i realized something...
  NPC games are... what's the word...
****?
       i watched a few videos
and starting thinking...
  this sure looks like someone
jerking off...
     or at least to make an eloquent
elaboration...
the games are solipsistic...
literally solipsism...
           now... the genius of
War Robots... there's no NPC
in them... these games are fun
because you are put into a squad
and you have to come up
with an on the spot tactic with
anonymous real-life people...
    like: heavy robots for
    the long distance combat...
medium robots: all rounders
and light robots to catch the beacons...
to hell with NPC games...
yes... i know that there is a payment
processor in place...
   but... there's also a patience processor...
it takes time to level up
either robots or weapons...
you don't have to pay...
   you just have to wait...
which is also genius,
because then the game longevity
increases!
   how?
     well... with NPC games...
you get to finish the game...
there's a beginning a middle and
an end...  
       so... there's your 50 quid
down the drain...
              non-NPC games are
inexhaustible...
   and if you learn to be patient enough...
you get to level up...
  actually... there is an "end"
in this non-NPC game...
the skirmish mode...
where everyone's robot is at level 12...
and their weapons are at level 12...
i'm guessing the developers
inserted this mode in...
on occasions, to counter the argument
that battles are won because
the squads
                     are inconsistently matched
up... with rich users...
who do pay for leveling are playing
users... who do not pay...
*******...
      i like the disadvantages (if there
really are any)...
   because they the need to figure out
a team tactic intensifies...
         oh hell... non-NPC games all
the way... it's like going back into
a ******* sand-box and playing with
other kids...
      non-NPC games? rule!

i had to wait for gaming to evolve: right now, the only evolution to speak of is the evolution of technology, which has exponential growth: the world around me burns and i burn with it, ingesting a liter of alcohol a day not knowing when to stop: is it painful: am i getting indigestion, heart-burns: yes... but i'm also more alive because of it: i'm not some wanderer, restless nomad with barbiturates: i understand alcohol: Nietzsche didn't... but i don't blame him... but gaming is so much more with the advent of the internet: now i can replenish my thirst for chess with Mech- -Arena ++, it is an imitation of chess it is vamped up chess... i get to orientate my ego, i get to sooth my ego in the abstract, beyond the reality of biology, i can fuse my background in chemistry and hope: to understand: but knowledge doesn't breed hope: understanding comes from hope but knowledge comes from fear... i understand and therefore hope: but i never quiet know whether there's any good to get involved for... but that spiral is a chaos whispering... i want to suckle at the beckoning: i want to speak a language on the border between sea and earth and earth and air: and air and water: and air and fire... i want you pluck my own eye out and give it unto you: dear Archetype: father... how gaming has changed: i was told to be resolute in not finding a PS2 instead settling on a PS1 console plugging it into the t.v.: but now the mobile reconstruction: it almost feels like a ***** colony with people aging to 70 exponentially straining the expected life frequency... are we talking the possibility of philosophy being not bound to youth? are we simply saying: philosophy owns up to old age is old age the new glorified gatekeeping strength of mundane experiencing: this blunt knife is no longer sharp... am i supposing a hammer ought to be sharp to nail nails in: am i speaking of spokes: those skeletal necessities of a bicycle wheel?

before the Hebrews and Jahweh came
to Poland:
it's a strange ordeal of think about it...
but before they came with
YHWH
there was a word: prior to the name of
their god
and in the mouths of the people of
the fields...
JAWA:   in English that's YAVA...
there's no need to implore the H to command
the vowels...
JW                  signature...
google translate just spews out jawa: as java...
it's not dzawa:
na jawie: on waking: awake...

   yavye...
                     i understand now...
no one is going to have a reasonable
conversation with me...

i can stand accused of speaking to her
while falling asleep...
also timid also slightly drunk
also testing marijuana
and that's just lazy...
but at least she's just rummaging
in her everyday and i'm in bed
this 11h time difference referential
is punishing...

before YHWH came to Poland
there was the concept of consciousness
known as the JAWA...
YAVA...
not job to rob whales of:
strange creatures:
mammalian: prone to cult like suicide
pacts getting themselves
beached...
don't you think the whales are sort of saying:
the seas are boiling
we need to find our godhead
and get the **** out of this *******...
i feel that...
i don't intend to stay in England
for much longer:
England is not my BORN & BRED
i don't feel welcome:
i want to live in the kingdom of the oceans
on an island:
i want to live among Polynesians...
i want to ingest their tribal mentality
their tribal scrutiny their tribal security
of authority of loyalty of honor
i want to live among the Polynesians...
i'm going to do it:
even if before that i don't get my driving license
and sober up...
to raise: not my daughter:
my a child is still a child so...
i don't want to live among this bastardized
anti-racist pseudo-Europeans
these cuckold **** suckers!
i don't want to live among these people...
****** sandpit:
i'm taking my vocabulary and ******* off
into the sunset:
and even if that's the last thing i do
i know i'm stalling and assassinating myself
by a default of failing:
but then i'm also a fan of a quasi soap-opera
like i'm a big fan of opera and
especially a fan of ****** opera:
i love a ****** opera:
the type of opera that makes me leave
disgruntled like a phantom and saying:
nein nein nein benign!

thank you English: but i picked this language
for my own sake
it was nothing to be mediated
or explored with for the good of the people
who originated with it:
we can talk politics but we won't talk
politico:

a great wind came and swept me away...
my forefathers dreamed about
******* off to America:
well... i'm wanting to ******* way past
America:
i'll be saying hello and goodbye
while i enter the realm, the dimension,
the strict mental blockade of water with
the Polynesians...
these beyond the measure of the attitude
of the Mongols:
these former Taiwanese oar men
like vikings... hmm similitude...
what's a good broth of a soup on the islands
should you need soup?
so the base would be some meat:
carrots... **** no carrots that grow in the sea...
leeks... potatoes...
celeriac...    young celery stalks...
o.k. workable: not doable though...

**** me: the wicked talk of border-control:
on a ******* island...
you'd almost think if someone whispered
to ******: wait wait...
how about we invade England
by digging a tunnel...
but dwarf technology and innovation
was never part of the quick premature *******
mentality of the Nazis:
cheats... if they only waited and someone
said to them...
pst... hush hush:
let's dig a tunnel... rather than terrorize
from the air...
then again: why did they just drop bombs
avoiding St. Paul's cathedral...
why not just drop a bunch of hulkish manly
Aryan men into the mix?
clearly that wasn't the plan
because i don't know what the English feminine
is since i've been ostracized
and thank **** that i will never **** an English
woman: these days
exponent of foul mouth and neck tattoos
and something a Pakistani **** gang develops
a taste for...
well at least the Romanian prostitutes...
but **** is such a bad taste in a mouth wanting
violence...
how can you: ugh... unimaginable...
but i'm happy: to have lived in England
for... donkey's count of years and never actually
having ****** an English girl...
the grey skies ought to be turning blue at some point:
maybe if i was less able
maybe a Hapsburg jawline...
maybe my teeth are rotten:
maybe my father was right when he said:
are you are hunchback?
i'd return to him and say:
let me find out... but i'll need to fly over to
Hawaii to find out... i'll get back to you...

it almost felt like i was screaming into the night
when it fact i was having *******
explaining the importance of *******
on a man...
i have no respect for circumcised men:
in that i have no respect for the tradition
that thinks that circumcising men
will somehow keep the concept of monogamy
intact...
yes:
baby: i'll get circumcised: aesthetic?
no: i was thinking i'd get circumcised after you
put a ring on this finger...
so that i am no longer able to pleasure
myself:
so i did say: dream talk, borderline:
because i talk in my sleep i want to find
the person who talks falling asleep:

didn't i say that you can do one better
than giving me a *******?
didn't i say: kiss me while ******* me?
isn't that what *** ought to be:
something to work with
a transcendental conversation
a language barrier missing
just gone...
you kiss me while jerking me off
i'm pretty sure you don't have to ****
on that tool...
but that's a prerequisite of the *******:
******* sand-******* and their *****: ugh!
how about we cut the lips off
so that the smile might be more prominent?
it won't be a Chelsea grin:
but a Kenyan oopsie!
still showing teeth? barren *******...
and these are the people that are the spearheads
of all civilization? **** me...
but the ******* is so precious...
it's like that poisonous **** mentality
of inbreeding and the fetish for anti-pig...
what's wrong with the pig
what's the point of glorifying cow
when you know you can eat red
meat because the chances of ingesting parasites
from raw steak are so slim?!
cluck cluck cluck-oh-ooh!
chicken farts... blurp:        now i will have
my berserker fun!
   but i know how to contain alcohol: so i can
talk *** and not permit myself
to feeding off violence:
because i believe that the best sort of ***
is: an imitation of violence: contained...
measured:
deliberated: kept in strict of confines of
dialogue: beyond any measure:
attempted by Socrates...

so before Jahweh and his He-brew crew found
their way to the odd sanctuary of
Poland where: i guess because the Poles
defended the last pilgrims of the winds
that were the Lithuanians... the last pagans of
Europe:
well: besides the Prussians who inverted
what wasn't Germanic...
come to think of it: the best way to digest
history is by treating is like a comic book script:
write the words:
the images come later...
so then the Hebrews came to Poland
(how the **** did they get there,
i don't ******* know)
it's almost mythical in the stance of: huh?
so many of them?

the moment i hear one Jew tell me about
the Polish collaboration with the Nazis:
it took...
**** Germany, Soviet Russia...
and the Slovaks to invade Poland...
and it took them... 2 weeks...
it took the same amount of time if not less
for only **** Germany to invade France...
*******...

yeah: well: some probably did:
but last time i heard...
there are more Polish names on the hall of flame
fame... flame... whatever somewhere
in Jerusalem...
but yo: you still circumcised!
i could understand doing a van Gogh's ear
but if these are the people we sow
to find spiritual guidance:
no wonder i'm hearing of Wōðanaz:
woovanaz...
  that's: ð of the
              and not the ᚠ of thought...

                   i think Nietzsche predicted he was
moving outside the Germanic realm
and into the Slavic realm by crying out:
i'm Polish! i'm Polish!
apparently "we" are the French of the Slavic people...

oh the brute:
that Malachi was so wrong: Malachi 4:5...
reincarnation goes against all the supposed
superiority logic of monotheism!
reincarnation of either Jesus or Elijah are
horrendous grievances against man's commitment
to monotheism!
it would have been best
to astound the world with the atheism
of China or the polytheism of India
than to succumb to this constipated and
circumcision frenzy mind ****!
cut an ear off! cut a ****** off!
how these people are not considered as bad
as the Pigme and the cannibals
who sharpen their teeth without having
any maulers i will never want to know!
how about cutting a toe off?
the ******* phallus aesthetic improved:
again!
if you want to truly fathom an unbreakable
bond of monogamy like
an imitation of swan... go for it:
sure thing gurl:
i'll snippet my hand movements off
when you decide to put a ring on this finger...
until then?
nein nein nein!

so now a circumcised **** and donning
the kippah is something of an elevated status?
outside the realm of a somewhat sensible
secularism:
at one point i didn't actually consider
myself a leftist liberal...
or rather a liberal:
but since i've aged i'm just agitated
about conservation projects...
beside wanting to be a gardener: in thought alone...
notably when you read:
oh thoughts are just thoughts
and actions speak louder than words
and words are no carriers of meaning...
actions:
hmm: so you would better understand
if i punched you in the face?
that's what it has culminated into:
words are not carriers of meaning...
spoken as a true dyslexic...
but images are ******* mesmerizing!
images convey meaning: words don't...
well then...
it only feels appropriate to speak
that sign language of a clenched fist:

                             clearly... what else is there?
but i shouldn't worry:
i hope to not live in England come October...
if i'm not on Kauai by December
then at least i'll be dead.

justt completed downloading 203 ps2 games mann pretty happy ABOUT IT

andd i will like to give everybody my ps2 games  linkk for free honestly man sharing is loving after all

one off my life's achievement downloading 207 ps2 games in a month

i m just a regular guy who likes playing  ps2 games on linuxx that is about it mann

ps2 paradise old cheap games

Flaming hot Cheetos and fairly easy cheat
codes on the PS2. Keep your memory simple
like fresh Nike shoes on the first day of school;
a shortcut to cool.

That always lasts too short a time, like before
scampering small paws of a lifelong friend start to travel slowly
across rooms. He just needs more rest,
now he can’t climb down steps— I start to smile less.

Pause.
He’s still here but I’ll instead wander;
may so it goes soon but I’ll instead
ponder.

When did yogurt start needing spoons?
When did sweet things start rotting tooths?
How come it seems like no one treats me better
than long naps in November?

My smoldering body in space heated by space
heater, under a blanket thrown over
to keep the warm together.
Try to keep it together.

No, I’ll wonder if tomorrow knows how to hold
my heart in it’s hands. If rose-tinted lenses will
continue to be in style. It’ll surely
be a while till I figure it out

but until then I’ll try to learn
that a moment always collapses
under not yet existing futures
and no longer existing pasts.