How about that Polish guy:
Karol Jozef Wojtyla!
AKA Pope John Paul II,
Previously, a Cardinal,
The Archbishop of Krakow . . .
A tough cookie; in 1941
His mother, father, and brother
All died, leaving him the family's
Sole survivor.
Worked in a quarry,
Later a chemical factory,
Enrolled at a university,
Closed by the Nazis during WWII.
Ordained as a priest in 1946.
Holding 2 doctorates, Professor of
Moral Theology & Social ethics;
A powerful preacher,
A great intellect with vast charisma,
Working as a Catholic priest in
Communist Eastern Europe,
He was often asked
If he feared retribution from
Communist leaders? He replied:
“I’m not afraid of them.
They are afraid of me.”

Sounds like a scary guy?
Pope John Paul II,
The name he chose--
Tipping his yarmulke
To Lennon & McCartney,
For “Hey Jude,” no doubt,
Patron Saint of lost causes &
Desperate cases--
History’s most well traveled pope,
With that signature bit,
Coming off trans-oceanic airplanes,
Cutely kissing the ground.
First non-Italian Pope
Since the 16th century.
A strong stoneworker’s body, &
Knowledge of chemistry,
When Pope John Paul I--
Another Beatles fan—died in 1978,
After only a 34-day reign,
Few suspected Wojtyla.
White smoke (fumata bianca)
Announcing a new pope,
Chosen on the 7th round of balloting,
The first-ever Slavic pope,
The youngest pope in 132 years,
Yet conservative, a Papacy marked by
Firm, unwavering opposition to
Communism & war,
Abortion & contraception,
Capital punishment, & homosexual ***,
Coming out later against
Euthanasia.
Human cloning, &
Stem-cell research.
But, hey, you had to love him.
Took a bullet, famously in St. Peter’s Square,
By would-be assassin &
Double ***-*******,
Turkish political extremist named
Mehmet Ali Acqa,
A Muslim, later a Catholic-convert,
An early skirmish in 21st Century
Anti-Islamic Crusades.

Our Polish Pope John Paul II,
Died, succeeded in 2005 by
Our German Pope, Herr Ratzinger,
Calling himself Benedict XVI,
After The King of Pop,
Michael Jackson’s favorite rat,
Benny began the beguine—
Beatifying John Paul II,
During his first year on the job.
Later, acting as if
The Papacy was actually, just a job,
Does the unheard of:  RESIGNS,
Rather than die in office.
Rather like Nixon,
*N'est–ce pas?

pirates, with a Huckleberry
******* row boat...
doing the Achilles vs. the tortoise
logic macabre with
Somalis...
           if ever a microaggression...
meaning, curbed bodies and alliances
with ****** in the morge...
     well... sign me up Libido Jim...
tis an un fo 'ah bone fide...
ah... fy fy n'oh fide... n'oh fight...
      bonding fade... or post Latin post Brit
dicritical enclosure, loss...
   Gaulish excess spelling
and not wonder:
the last remnant literacy monopoly...
dyslexia... eyes see one thing...
tongue speaks another...
      trash the bib.,
remnant 0f bible,  diacritical marks...
bone fide...
     tetragrammaton fiddle with
the diacritical violin...
        no, no Anaïs Nin ands a father figure...
id est more fetish figure and less
father rigour...
                          bond fíd(e)...
like all french... shy on the suffix ***
loss of diacritical canon...
                                    as literate as the pastoral...
and God forbid I ever make the sort of dough
worthy of the sistine chapel or
the da vincy code...
   I shadow,  and the undercurrents...

John "kukła" Paul II...
   or? John Paul "the wickerman"...
at least they allowed Ratzinger
the dignity of papa emeritus...
   poles like bangladshis are
expendable... but worth the:
princess ought to have that unicorn...
my my... came slurping honey,
the sugar baby...
and the delayed claustrophobia
of the inescapable ratio
of women, outnumbering men...
and even Solomon,
employed eunuchs to tend
to his harem, stemming from
the myth of ****** stamina.

primarily because of daylight, and younger brother's
song: evil and harm; and last night.

you know what i keeping conjuring in my head?
     stapling the cheat's *kippah of a pope,
to his head... and then tugging him by it through
the streets of rome...
                  i'm way past jokes,
     i'd literally staple the hierarchical to old alec baldwin's
head, and then tow him, drag him... through
                the streets of rome...
                                 i mean... you make the pope a saint?
well... that's a first, why would popes be saints
          if they can't decide upon being a pope, emeritus?
pope ratzinger (benedict XVI) is the only saint...
                 with what grace! with what grace he settled
for a nunnery!
                      **** me!        but he's not considered a saint!
that's awful, really, that's absolute filth!
    oh yeah... double point: the pope's "kippah"
                                                    (so called) -
               like these fake jews ruling over us with an iron
grip?           ever notice the ****** on the top of it?
     no? never noticed the ****** on the "kippah"?
                        it's not even a ******* kippah by then,
but a....
                                                 béret français:
and if you're into linguistics, try these alternatives:
               bə'rā (bé    ray)       thrą'sé
                                            bé'ré            φρąsay -
parle poo?
                                qui, parle poo, anglais - on-a-glare...
with! with! with a glare!
                                  oh ******* 'ell...
                          the french aesthetic for spelling: λoγoς...
and then the actual pronounciation, i.e. the φoνoς?
                                                         miles apart!
they're not as bad as the english, but they're ******* worse
than king arthur's sons.
       the comparison?   you see an aeroplane in the sky...
and then you sort of see the shoom five miles back...
                    you have to remember two languages...
the french and the english are naturally "bilingual" -
               it's not that you say one thing and mean another,
you have to ******* write one thing, and say another:
      so the λoγoς is the aeroplane... and the shoom?
                             that's the φoνoς... or the once fabled television
static being the remnants of the big bang.... well, isn't
that an ingenious name for the beginning of everything...
     big... bang...     and a ******* firecracker whilé you're at it.
so yeah, if you never experienced an asiatic invasion
   akin to a mongol horde... you will not have clear, distinct
syllable distinctions...  you'll be like a vampire saying:
   blah, blah blah, blah.... or bleh bleh bleh, bleh;
minus the hatch? hetch? hay't'ch?       blá, blá blá....
                                              alt. blé blé blé, blé.  
considering style though? reading heidegger
     is, seriosuly, sometimes akin to
                                       watching liberace play the trombone;
all those italics and non-footnote dittoes...
       a bit like watching an apple balancing on a watermelon
                                          and calling it tango.

and what of the other tree, that bore fruits of truth
and falsehood,
by now we should have summed up: realised
that of the tree that smothered us with
a supposed confusion of not being able
to differentiate good from evil and evil from good:
we could attest with the good evil
and the evil good: in algebra the equivalent
to: a quadratic equation...
in a world where the established binary order
has become binomial... all because of ***-strangulation
akin to how the fusion of swan-monogamy
and chimpanzee polygamy - arab harems still
legal... just like slavery was still legal
for those camel jockeys as far as 1970s "officially":
yet still unofficially: the Bangladeshi slaves
of Qatar...
surely the supposed bonum ultimatum ex deus
suggests: a deity without a rigorous campfire
storytime, not plucking of the eye no hardship
of an Odin... not accountability of man
retracting, netting his existence with that dreaded
omni- prefix attached to some Prof Xavier (ex saviour)
type dynamic demagogue (gnostic gnomes
understood this, only recently i honed in
on the pronunciation of the word: yacht...
it's apparently YAT... not yαχτ -
the ch is a surd compound... unlike CHange...
unlike CHasm... no wait: Napoleon, wait...
             that's Kasm... Charon? or Haron?
i.e. Xaron? no, not kss kss... not QW QW off of a C or K...
i'm getting flashbacks from reading
James Joyce's Finnegans Wake...
     which in a time where only Orwell's 1984 is cited
with mass recognition like it's some dodo
retraction from reading the Bib'le to the dot
almost blindly... eh... m'eh...
            so i was watching this Tucker Carlson
interview with Vlad the Putt -
and... i switched off from the history lesson up
to the point where Vladie ol' Boy (he's getting old...
he's becoming irrelevant, sorry, but the guy ought
to take a Pope Emeritus stance... too much John Paul II /
Elizabeth II imitations... those ******* would cling
to the throne and sceptre and cross
all drooling, slobbering their clinginess to power...
respect for Pope Emeritus I - Ratzinger Ratz...
i switched off when he mentioned how the Polacks
collaborated with the Nazis... sure sure...
and the Soviets didn't invade Poland from the east?
right? they didn't... 123 years... ABC timespan
of "lost property"...
         bullies... ganging up... oh never mention
the ******* Swedes and the Turks have a stab...
1772, 1793, 1795 - oh and 1939...
altogether: perfect... 4 partitions of Poland...
we collaborated... we should be thankful for Joe Stalin
taking away our pride of lions: Lviv...
for what? Posen? we already established that town...
Breslau then... thankful?
thankful as in: the Katyn massacre of our intellectuals
service men of the army that the ******* Cossacks
blamed on the Nazis?!
to be frank... war = education... and let me tell you:
the Nazis were by far the better educators
to that ******* lump of red of Siberia:
those KACAPY... kaptur (hood): kacapy?
hoodlums...
                            the Nazis were by far the better
educators than the Soviets...
i'm just wondering... were we seriously on the NEXT
list should the Holocaust have been completed?
we sort of were:
    i do feel a grudge thinking that "my" people were
used as slave labour to build those futile camps...
but there's no knowing that logic went into
speaking about establishing a tausend jahr *****
and negating as a downfall joke: arbeit macht frei:
what work?! the working up to slaughter?
that's what happens when sophists come into power...
talk daisies all day long but end up
skewering potato *******...
          it's almost fascinating though: how eastern
rulers are historically conscious
while western rulers are: out to lunch when it comes
to any historical reference(s)...
living a journalistic insomnia of day-to-day...
i'll give Putin that much credit: he speaks history...
can an American president do the same?
unlikely... Russia is old... and the worst thing you
can do to a Russian is gang up on him...
bear and rat... corner a rat: say goodbye to your
artery in your neck...
you can't isolate a Russian: esp in this fair game
fair for all spirit of the Olympics...
strip a Russian of a flag, allegiance?
                    i'm defending an enemy because:
i have respect for him...
      only recently i was speaking to Charlie the Cypriot
and we were both like:
conscripted into the English army...
and fight for what? what?!
gay marriage, pronouns of transgender... what?!
what continuity of life, what existential integrity
are we... ******* talking about?
fight for a ******* dead-end? cul de sac existentialism?
i'd probably switch to the Russian side
if push: and it's being pushed: now comes the shove...
or... is there something not masculine about
me whereby: "daddy" comes in and says: look...
with that grin so diabolical it can allow him
to use 6 human bollards to control a rough estimate
of 10,000 people... dictating traffic into a tube station...

so we know that there's good evil and that there's
evil good... because there is no good good
there is no evil evil... there is no purity dynamic:
good contaminates evil and evil contaminates good...
oddly enough...
salt water and fresh water...
can't drink the sea...
but isn't fresh water easily contaminated by
parasites? eh eh?!

cite Oliver Moody: Poland doubles size of army
to counter Russia...
heroic victory over the Red Army in 1920
known as the Miracle of the Vistula...
doubled from 95,000 to 200,000...
        ultimate condition for feeling safe:
300,000 personnel...
                   1,600 tanks... more than Britain,
France, Germany, Spain and Italy... COMBINED...
fringe master 3D chess (3D chess?
that's when you know how to orientate people:
i can't exactly say: tell people what to do...
but then again people behave differently
in a crowd, there is no individualism...
the only individualism is of those idiots that argue
that waiting in a queue in an egress situation
of a stadium is their rights being taken
while gladly queuing in a supermarket with
their groceries... the singlefile allure of "reason"
*****...)
he's right though: delinquents of NATO...
so happy that they don't know the stench of
a Mongolian horde... or the Ottoman **** slurp...
just stick to your ******* garden variety life
of an islander and be content with:
oh, only the Norman invasion, how many civil wars
did we wage (is that only two?
the war of the roses and that other one with Ollie
Crommie; only two?)
and that fun side project of Jane Austen,
cricket, football or rugby...
                            now that's the life... sitcoms and
Monty ******* Python wits...
have to start calling them the wits versus the wigs...

but what of that other tree?
we established that there is good evil and there's evil good...
Erwin James just died:
convicted murderer with a troubled past who used
his sentence to shed light on life behind bars
through a column for the Guardian (2016 memoir,
Redeemable)... hmm... algebra:
                           (a + b)² = a² + 2ab + b²
now: was "i" telling a lie when "he" said that you
will know the difference between good and evil?
he said that i don't so...
another pronoun game?! IT and NOTHING are also
pronouns... they doesn't concern me...
you can be it or nothing: you's noose a bit, loose?
you snooze: you lose.
oh i can address myself in third person...
only today i woke trying to rework Jungian psychology
with the "crudeness" of the Cartesian:
res cogitans, res extensa... with my neo-Cartesian
instigation of res vanus into the whole dynamic:
basically: as much as i'd like to think that i'm a thinking
thing... i'm not actually thinking all the time...
my thinking is not a ******* AC/DC momentum:
i switch off... by switching off i invite the dynamic
of res vanus... an empty vessel...
which allows me to drift into res extensa and
re-orientate my consciousness by sometimes
catching myself thinking: passively...
should the dynamic of res cogitans be kept integrally:
well then... no wonder i studied madness
throughout my 20s... res cogitans: over-thinking
creates a schizophrenic res extensa dynamic of
hallucinating audio... vox ultra...
why think you can control thinking to subsequently
wonder why the ego has been isolated and
is seemingly beyond our control to then couple it
with all that self- *******?
by now elaborating and nice language is not on
the cards!

what of that other tree, the easier one to manage:
we ate two fruits, i think...
or at least i ate from the fruit of truths and falsehoods...
that's easier to stomach...
you can tell a truth from a lie...
can't you?                good was always going to be
conflated with evil...
because this life is a paradox...
       a paradox with clear indicators of logical steps...
gravity for one but then
we found:
                       m₁m₂
           F = G. --------
                           r²

what am i alluding to? what Fall of Man?
to me God fell... after all: how come we came into
contact with words, encoding sounds
to subsequently elaborate what we meant by X?
the Rise of Man... coupled with the Fall of God...

maybe i'm just put off by Cyrillic thinking that
it's a cheap knock off of Greek: which it is...
no one is going to convince me that
Cyrillic is half baked half arsed wholly drunk
when it comes to ensuring there is no Latin influence
protruding with some of the letters...

Аа contra Αα     see... half baked...
Ее contra Εε        again... half baked...
Зз contra Ζζ       half baked
Мм              Μμ half baked...
obviously i'll be more influenced by the Germanic
strand of what's the expected European...
history lesson Putin?
how about you align yourself to that shared
conflict with the northern crusades
after the death of Barbarossa
when the disillusioned Germans were still
eager for some crusade and if not the Muzzies
then the Lithuanian pagans...
how about the Battle of Grunwald 1410
and 1242 Battle on the Ice...
because isn't that how the northern crusades
started, from the disillusioned Germans
coming back with limp ***** after their great
Barbarossa drowned in a ******* puddle?
            hey hey: meet you halfway?!
because like i already mentioned: sooner the Slavic
people start a war against themselves
than succumb to this current western miasma...
myopia... m'eh to life...
have some ***** and a vitality: some life...
war is education...
and i do want a Russian for an enemy than a friend...
i tried having a Russian girlfriend
well obviously that backfired...
but St. Petersburg back in 2007 was such a welcoming
place...
Moscow too...
but i will not invoke Cyrillic... it's aesthetically unappealing
for me to erode whatever's left of my brain
cells on that: when i can have the beautiful Greek!

‘And what are five miles from a station in these days of bicycles?’
-E.M. Forster, A Room With A View

Nothing cracks the rigid heart up
more easily than a microchip
in the cucumber sandwiches
and a lick of dubstep can really ruin
a lawn party in a Merchant Ivory flick.  
My mother was sure Ratzinger
resigned the papacy because they were making him
update his Twitter feed too often.
Some of the saddest moments of Bonaparte’s life
came while reading
Pierre-Simon Laplace.
Time itself is an adjustment.
Do you know, for instance,
Katharine Hepburn, on the set of Suddenly, Last Summer,
refused to believe there was such a thing
as a homosexual?
Mankiewicz, born to Jewish immigrants,
must have learned diplomacy early on.
His line:
Belief isn’t necessary
if you can act like you believe.
This— here—
is the sharp edge of nostalgia.
The cowpuncher pining for a white Alabama.
How the man who broke his wife’s jaw longs
for his wife to come home.
It’s hard to pity them, I know.
But if compassion’s worth anything
we ought at least to try.
The light has upped a notch.
Their rigid hearts
repine like window-blinds.
These days of bicycles have made
no new truths
but they say that things are clearer now.
By what’s reflected up from water,
in the caverned underside of leaves,
we see Freddy Honeychurch and Mr. Emerson jumping
pale and bare-arsed into The Sacred Lake;  
the Reverend Mr. Beebe
circling their young,
wet bodies like a paunchy moon.

He compares Ratzinger to Nixon
Two deceptive thugs
I read Persepolis
Like those Persian rugs

Me in the library
Robinson Middle School
Reading The Fall of Baghdad
America the Cruel

Yo soy un isolato
I reach out but do not reach
Walls closing in
One night I reach the beach

Waves crash and break
Somewhere somehow the Whale
Sweet Sir Galahad
Finds the Holy Grail

                 Tales!

Father Reginald Foster quite correct
Most Catholic theology
Bogus human nonsense
Will not last the Night

Milwaukee lucky to have him
Suspicious of Ratzinger
Died on Christmas, after Midnight
Pax Vobiscum

Throw my brain in a hurricane
Or a Taipei, Taiwan typhoon
My ashes to the ocean
My eyes to the moon
    
         My heart to her. Soon.