Games are FUN!
Sometimes my friends go to my house and play Roblox
Roblox is a game
Super fun,  we love it all
Homework is important so I have to finish my homework before playing the game with my friends
ukulele app is another fun game...let me tell you next

Here's a funny story
What a five year old knows,
A lot more than just
Fingers and toes,
She can't read very well
But she knows about Love,
And when you read through this story
You'll say, "Good heavens above!:"

She visited today and
We went to the playground,
Red Magnolia flowers
Were just lying around,
They were so pretty
She brought a few to the car,
To give some to her Grandma
Now, that's raising the bar.

A couple hours later
She was talking about a date,
Flower petals on the stairway
Leading up to bedroom eight,
And I began to get suspicious
Wondering, what is she talking about?
Her home does not have a stairway
And her parents are more roundabout.

Google-search is my friend
“Rose petals on stairway leading to bedroom”,
Instantly 25 photos of Valentine ideas
Adult themes pushing bing-badda-boom,
From a five year old child
Where do these images arise?
YouTube, Roblox and you name it
They consume this stuff all day; no surprise!

A first generation immigrant family
There is hardly a reading book found in the house,
Brother and sister age five and seven
**** on their iPads like a scurrying mouse,
No limits are set, no blocking of content
The parents are clueless while the kids are engaged,
With TikTok videos of gyrating and gesturing
A five year old groomed to be teenaged.

The end of the story: this is how it went
Grandma and Grandpa were guided up the stairs,
To stand at the edge of the bed
She told us to kiss while she hid behind the chairs,
I made a loud lip noise but she wasn’t fooled
She shouted, “No, you really have to kiss”,
Remember what I said at the start of this poem?
Good Heavens above, what her parents do miss!

i was on roblox around 30 minutes ago.

these girls were being ****** as ****.

so i called them out.

got in an online fight,

had to leave and calm down from laughing too much

World beautiful world
Never shall we nerve

Fun world fun
Word fun body move

Play lots of things
Shall we never done
Roblox again why again
Time to wind down back to world

I knew these girls and guys,

on an online platform for kids,

named Roblox.

My,

We were the best of friends.

-

A year later,

She tried killing herself.

Sending me messages on

How much she hated me,

How I'm a stupid brat,

and

How I "stole" her boyfriend.

We broke.

I cried.

I blamed myself for her.

And I tried suffocating myself.

Whilst no one stopped me.

the old face returned to the mirror
and almost instantly the melancholy lifted
and i stood reborn
in the wine of gravity
and of vanity
and it became so simply to obviously
so simply obvious
that it had to be right
that going to the Turkish barber
is like getting a ******* from
a wife
and i'm just burning my eyes out
i mean i'm burning my eyes
i'm scratching at them
if ever she might think i'm infidelity
personified
and i will not use of "right"
since no consequence of will
to balance the right to
and the right from
i.e. the evil and the good
and the good and evil
i have the right to breathe
but no will to life
but then a will to life returns
and i wonder just
now about Nietzsche's un-kept moustache
and i think of the weather
in England in June
and if this is summer this is the worst
Scandinavian summer
because in Sweden
there is a midsummer and a summer a twilight
and the white knights of St Petersburg
because i know that
there are the keys and gates
to St Peter's Gates
in St Petersburg
and not in Rome
not in the basilica of St Peter
but in a city of St Peter
and that is in Russia
and i think that's where i was
and oh god i look
**** again
because ****** hair
does not belong on a man's neck
like it doesn't belong
on a woman's feet
shins to be exact
and not on her face
and not in her arm pits
but sure as ****
i love to slurp a furry oyster
like i might be
the white man killing
the hairy elephant away
for having enough food to do
to do
a do of burning wood
to keep coo coo
a cooing a sensation of the fuckery
of backgammon and chess
and card
and other video games
and i was in the girl
talking about Roblox
and Play-station 1
and playing Metal Gear Solid
and Tenchu
and oh boy boy boy boy
no, sorry, girl, Reyla...
do you know how much time
you are wasting
by the modern gaming torture?
this is torture i remember
gaming like it was a narrative
a narrative sport
unlike the sports of hunting ducks
with spaniels
or fishing
i hear men disgruntled with the bread
and the circuses
and i see them hating going to football
seeing it turn into
a secular religion (gap and throw me
a bone
when i go to an event
twice as drunk as if
but really tugging my children with me
to keep me awake
now i think of the sudden rush
of exquisiteness
a piquant sharp
chilly sauce no hot towel
no i'm not here to relax
will finish watching Breaking Bad
with dad
and i will make Slavic schnitzel
and misery of cucumber and dill
and maybe onion
maybe the spring ones
oh jeez the **** is back the **** jaded
**** is back
resurrected
what of that un-kept mustard-gas...
mustard-gas...
mustard-gas... moustache..
    attache... mustard-gas attache...
but Martin now Merlin
does not remember me
he remembers Kamil -
now i'm thinking this is pair bonding
and this German philosopher on
youtube...
technology, internet...
authenticity "vs" profilicity -
i.e. the art of profiling
self
others
oneself
and others

my selves and my nouns
and my grammatical bumps
and skids
a road
a road to far away
i

i was just thinking about including
England in the Scandinavian
League
from Medieval Times
given that North Englanders
have more Viking blood in them
than South Englanders
which have more of the Swiss Bloodline...
from their reading of history
and close associations with
the Europe the Union
the Chains
i mean North England is like Wales
and who knows where the boundaries
lie
of this new sprout Kingdom
of which, i, Jarl and customs' manager
wonder in clue huh clue huh
the crows of england
fly in mythology
of Huginn and Muninn
which is while the crows
of the continent fly
in thracks - throngs....
          in market places: a carnival of flesh
flesh of the feasts of war
now subdued and no longer
heroic
like heroism and idealism (except for that French
dualism of *** on Descartes' table
cushion me
dearest teacher, the secrets...

            the crows of Odin
fly above England
while the crows of Barbarossa fly
over the Continent of Europe...

   ᚠᛄᚢᛏ

                    ᚦᚩ-

              (                   ­              ᚬ ą)


:) :) :) :) :) the apple machine forgot
to press ******* keyboard to find
the letter... ᚬ ą -
missing on Apple Machines...

                                                -ᚱᚴ
­
some ungrateful son am i
while grandfather was alive
Martin was the Prodigal Son
and upon his return
squandered his prodigy
in that he didn't once
lift a book to read
or write with finger
or clean his father's room after his death
and i did that
and now my mother went back
to the house of her childhood
and she can no longer
smell the death and museum of her
father
that i cleaned
that i cleaned
and i think that's why there was so much
shock upon mother returning
and "confronting" my grandmother
because that's now
not a case of Edie and her mother
and my mother and her mother
because now i have four mothers orbiting
me Miroslaw and Reyla
Miroswav...
     Miroswav

          SWAV

                SWAVA POLAYA
niet nad K
clan
klej
              klątva!

a curse upon my family! a curse upon my lineage
Martin knows who
i am i have been unmasked in the visions
of history and monotheism and the journey
of one particular god
who can forget
because not a universe god is he

          i am CAIN

i am the reincarnation of CAIN
    i have the mark on my shoulder blade
the right shoulder blade
where my wing was clipped
i waited and waited
in line to sing or say something in the court of
kings
and then someone clipped my wing
like picking up a telephone

and reincarnation can only happen
in the confines of monotheism
is they are pre-history of recorded cognition
and that does not allow
the reincarnation of Jesus Christ
it forbids it
it is a MAJOR HERESY
to even "think" and even THINK
that the reincarnation of Jesus Christ
is possible...
a reincarnation of Cain
Adam Abraham
yes...
but not even Moses!
not even Moses!

i.e. a Time of the Reincarnation
of the Illiterate
beginning with Muhammad!
ah! he he he ha ha ha he he he ha!
he's the first prophet!
Muhammad is the first prophet
if monotheism is to ever
reconcile itself with polytheism
and the polytheistic "reality"
of reincarnation!

imagine a time and the distant future
of the old figures of the old testament
being resurrected /
reincarnated
to write their own accounts...
easy: just imagine Cain writing a book
just imagine Abraham writing a book
just imagine Isaac writing a book
just imagine...
for a while...
Jesus was pushing the tradition
of saying but writing nothing
that tradition died with Socrates
and that's what ******* the Jewish intellectuals
at the time
and that was that...
Jesus took it for granted and so lazy
to think him illiterate
seriously?
Socrates had no audacity in old age
just old age
but for Jesus to imitate Socrates
in some airy-fairy sort of way
by sign language of the crucifix
rather than jumping mental hoops of arguments
and self-aversions

no... i didn't go and chase up chasing
the wheel in Whitechapel today
or trying to break into a Mosque like i might
want to break into Wembley
tomorrow
but i'm working so
now i look the part
but instead i thought better for the barber
and "stock up"...

   the Mosque can wait the wheel can wait
Ezekiel can't rise up since
he probably wrote
not even Isaiah
but perhaps Elijah
and perhaps there will be no horror
if anyone: echo! echo! echo!
did Elijah write anything? anything? anything?

there's not even the remotest question
of me "sobering up"...
rather a case of me unthinking the need for
the use of letters...
even with these seemingly wax
eyes
of being strained to black and white
like strobe light glittering diamond
in darkness
but if i lift my eyes up
there is nothing but the grey of the day

ah! message to idea
one selfie two selfie
just to look peacock and *****
for her too
looking **** sexed-up and sober
yes just relieved myself
by writing this...
so... yeah...
there was a thought at the beginning
of this:
i'll make sure to message Edie
about it...

             wife, *****, personal secretary,
something along those lines
form penance for going to church
like penance in Islam is a woman
wearing a Niqab
then the equivalence is
women going to Church...
so barbaric and foreign and backwards
and that's the fertile ground
for Christianity since
its culminated failure at the Zenith
of **** Paganism
a revival of the Myth of Lithuania
but fertile ground enslaving Africa
and South America
is not really because there's a Missing Spanish Link
i.e. this can't be referenced in England
but must be exported for a review
to a neutral ground...
no idea...
but since the histories of England
and Spain are so intertwined
well... there is just too much history at times
when there's something specific
about to be optically stressed in
either wording esp in wording somewhere
in painting
which belongs in galleries
and not on papers
in wallets
on stick 'em along lines of walls
and sometimes: no labyrinths
so straight infinite avenues
where no one really meets anyone
so unlike a shared labyrinth
a confiscating labyrinth of both self
and other self
since parallel to us the other and the other other...

p.s.
Hans-Georg Moeller...
notable mention
notable mention...
just wondering what
German phrases to learn
for tomorrow
but chances are
i'll be with the Spaniards
so it won't be much
fun not entertaining
the Borussia Dortmund
fans
although i hope i wish
and certainly on the egress
cordon at DC3 on
Olympic Way...
blah blah...
we'll see, we'll tomorrow is another
another

        some                     other

Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
As the sun settles in its high place in the sky,
we are settled in your bed occupied with different tasks.
I’m restless, but you’re content editing our latest Roblox video.
Or so I thought.
Joy is a peculiar thing.
It fills you with a sense of completion, but also a sense of dread.
You never know if it will end.
But this joy, it doesn’t end.
Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
As I throw on my cap and shoes I watch you run out the door.
The wind blows through my hair, and the quick ponytail I put in comes undone.
This is what it’s like to finally feel happiness,
and I could latch onto that feeling forever.
Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
The hills of Kesling Park become our sanctuary.
They are Littered with innocence and purity.
They are littered with cheerful daisies!
I fall to my knees and into a world I have never known.
A world without strife.
A world where I can just be myself.
Where I can just be with you.
Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
A friendship is complicated.
Maintaining the perfect balance of connection and individualism is hard to do.
But we’re perfect at it.
We weave in and out of each other in a way that only supplies laughter.
In that same way, I weave our crown.
It’s daisies.
As the sun shines on each flower I see the image of us.
One flower shows understanding,
and another shows entertainment.
One reflects our issues, but the other displays our ability to solve them.
Each one is imperfect as we are, but they never leave each other.
They will forever be in that crown like we will forever be with each other.
Pluck,
She knows me.
And that is where it ends.
As I watch each petal fall to the ground, I have finally found what I’ve spent my life searching for.
Not always will I feel pain and heartbreak,
so I must stop living in fear of it.
She brings me joy, and nothing can take that away.
No wilted flower, no wretched rainstorm, and no heatwave may break what we have.
Because she knows me,
and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I don’t think I can ever tell my friends
how much I love them.

I don’t really think they’d understand.

Sometimes, I love them so much
I think I’m selfish,
because if it were my way,
we would spend the rest of eternity—

playing games,
watching videos,
on call.

The only time I really feel happy,
or at least one of the only times anyway.

Is that selfish?

Because, like—
They have futures,
other people to spend time with.

I think that might be selfish,
if we didn’t have school,
so we could call all day.

Although,
I guess it’s dumb to assume
that’s what they want to do all day.

Roblox is only so much fun, I guess.

But for me, though,
that might be paradise,
because if I wasn’t—
I might lose another thing I love.

beyond nihilism: some masculine mantra:
i don't want to write
i want to paint
but if all i'll paint is colour of wonky
geometry
i rather think about drinking the minimum:
bear: minimum:
waking up from Hibernation...
Bear Hyperbolic Hibernian...
          i feel like communicating
in not so much the pedantic medium
of spelling
being prosthetic upright
ghost limp limbs
and the 20th century psychology schematic
of the operating table:
cubism is bad bad geometry
and colour
there are these two words:
colour and geometry
not pareidolia and the horrors
of tongue playing centipede
from the **** up to the mouth
like the book of Enoch and ******...
Jesus was an abomination
he was
see what happenened to the Norse God
Odin: he became a drag Queen
monty python
pink lipstick transvestite
but over England
unlike the continent:
crows have a "society"
during the day the fly over England
as Thought and Memory...

CAT = PILLOW

i feel old
i don't want to drink
i only drank today
because i missed my schizophrenic
twin shadow brother
a Mateusz for a Mattew
i am old i feel old
i want to be sober
and hear that "annoying":
SWEETIE PIE
i want to be sober mad
with love
than drunk mad with
myself...
i need her for the touch
i drink again
because touch is numb
and i can go cold turkey, baby...

5 days in heaven-and-hell...
good what is
and evil what isn't...
but evil is what is
and good is potentially:
morph-hope...
Soya milk... leaves
a scent in my nose
like honing in on
the proper intellectual *****
she will prescribe me vitamins
and minerals
take me off a wheat diet
and take me off the dairy diet
because of her i learned
that i was lactose intollerant

i sleep walk around Reyla's bed
i lie naked beside it
but you have invaded my personal space
i have two women
sleeping next to my library:
Reyla replied: what library? what books?
what books?! didn't you see them!
that's not wallpaper in Roblox!
ugh... ******* inside out 2 was ****...
i tried to snorkel down my tears
and i tried not to c ry when
watching inside out - the original...

getting married on March, the 14th...
two months shy of my Birthday
Grandmother's birthday JAnuary
mother's birthday
February
Marriage in MArch
Father's birthday 2nd April
My birthday 15th May and Old Joseph's
birthday went fishing
ol' Brautigan Tokyo Swiftie goes
shorty trout fishing h'americana
but the Turtles of Polynesia...

take out the garbage by 3pm....
two ***** bottles are not white rabbits
out of a top hat trick:
or accent...
  
problem though... paid #780 for the ticket
waited less than an hour
for an ETSA visa confirmation
but my problem is...
booked three ******* holidays!
i booked three ******* holidays!
like my youthful self
my university self
taking weekened holidays alone in
cities from PAris to Stockholm because
Athens was special...
me mad...

from the 28th February to some March...
2 layovers...
13h in night in San Francisco....
and a morning and afternoon
13h in New York...
but i'm bypassing the mainland
i'm heading down the Rambo Rimbau route
with the savages like blanched cabbages

salt water, sea, walt, salt, dunkin' dough in nuts:
maybe Picasso because that's called
the unravelling dream
the image unlike Narcissus' Period:
perfecting exactness
working from a Mongolian blink
innunedo
the high eye the sleepy eye
the all knowing not i
and the lemon ju ju...

                               ha                                     ha!

work phone?
what work phone?
Jew?
whjat Yejoo..
             phone whjat phone?
apparently
mine craft
is like ROBLOX
solution to AI-*****-LOBOTOMY...
just thinking....
i get a Ken Doll and Eddie the Iron
Maiden the Edie
jujst the jusitso: Tower of London:
got me thinking of the crows
of Mauai
and the Sparrows of Kauai
and chickens
zo zegulls on the calf island: big:
volkoonisch...
        volcanos: my recipient
of respect:          if not on Hawaii
then Khamtchatkhah....
so like Jesus is still King
when i tell you Jesus is but one
Universal piece of the puzzle
but not the only and final piece...
Democracy of Time
Alliance says.. ideological 1 + 1 = 2...
and this: only unshakeable:

        it is  not Jesus Christ alone...
this self: and self- and "self"
            one's one:
two in toe twos toe toes...
            why mirror this false reality
this one human boundaries
of saviour....
                 i don't undertand
the falsifying of the quest:
my queen: menu... something one might
do with a smoked: mackerel.

i am buzzing....
first thing i remember when i left my home
to get married in Kauai
with E.
and i watched the Barbie movie today
and it was so philosphical i worked in images
and i was drawn to images
now i'm alone with music
and a little alcohol and some ****
and i'm buzzing
with a teasing headache that when you get
it right
becomes a headmake or a headmush
and i see R laying in bed depressed
and today did a Ken into Barbie
walking back home
walking back home
and as i got off at Mashiter's Hill
from the 103 bus to Chase Cross:
my little island
my little world my little Friday
and my little Robinson Crusoe:
i will always be alone in the end
and i'm preparing each and one of you
into the final judgement of memory
of people pockets
i was in New York for 24h
someone stopped me the Ace of 8s
stopped me in New York
the ***** Queen
spades spades
all i could sniff is Joseph walking behind Jesus
and i am looking at Joseph
because woman you can have a Jesus
but in my Trinity i find Joseph to be my savior
my father believes in Joseph
as my Grandfather believed in Joseph
and we didn't believe in Jesus
the Old Catholics of Poland...
i came home to my parents
and i might look like a Jesus
i was told
i smelt concretes in New York
among men
who let us say
Jesus is not man's savior
each man unto Solomon
Joseph Adam Joseph Noah and God
that cannot be the ordeal of Man
in Christ
Christ came down to explain women
and women adore him for that
but that never encouraged the man
if we are told to test oursevles before God
i was reading up on the story of
Dylan Thomas' wife
and how she got drunk and never wrote
poetry
and there was Sylvia Plath in New York
going mad and some ****** Ted Hughes
of a poet coming along
and you wonder
why she loves watching nature channels
about spiders and lions and dolphins
but when a cockroach
when a cockroach gets into the house
and there's Butters making watch
and first impression:
oh... just a moth...
but then upon second inquiry in the kitchen
butters implored once more:
Matthew... have another look...
Butters implored: look look!
a cockroach! have you ever seen a cockroach?
that's a moth... no... that was a moth...
crawling into the kitchen light...
Butters... that was a moth?!
Butters... hmm... hmm....

a return to just sitting there in the house
having organised it a little
having organised the ******* fridge
for starters... harder to find ice cream
just sitting there on my little island
the country lad has returned to the countryside
but no one said where
that countryside would be
getting lonely on the surf
with turtles
when everyone dies and i'm alone
there i will be with god
but before i can be alone with him
i must first love to the death the ones i love
and in the meantime
i promised myself
checking the hours before the flight
that i would be awake for 72 hours between
April 3 and April 5th...

  and i am: this one off of **** and alcohol
and homecoming
getting off the 103 bus
and what came past me?
two police motorcycles
two undercover black cars
speeding
and behind them
    one SUKA... a police van...

Barbie and KEn... stepping backwards
into my Barbie World
with poetry
but then i go into the Real World
and i come back married
and well i am married now
the ring is gleaming and i have the one
ring to rule them all:
all the other rings of life
which i know not of
but if the Sirens and Elves and Angels
brought us 3 realms
of heaven hell and earth
then these creatures believe in the 3 realms so
much that the concepts have been misunderstood
for there are those of the Camp of Hel and Cain
and there are those of the Camp of Abel and Abba...
as there is the Adam and YHWH HQ:
the language: alphabet
the names of birds and their onomatopoeias
and birds named in onomatopoeias...
i.e. if there is to be a revival of Hawaiian speach
then i will bend the knee
and say in the vowel to consonant ratio being so:
each bird name in an "onomatopoeia"...
like the cuckoo...
          krakra for crow...
    cheerp cheerp for sparrows...
ooh-ooh ooh-ooh: the woodland pigeon
the owl of the noon...

                   and so my return to the sober:
and the memory
of how i fixed the space and there was so much
fire in raising my voice
and so grinding horns against horns
and so much of *** in peacock
and peacock in ***
and so much premature just so when you squeeze
and i was Moses in the foliage
hacking through the Islam of **** Licking
mouth under the Niqab is missing teeth
having given so much head... so much head...

Wembley bound
i will not be missing Dua Lipa
under the Arch
but i will be at Wimbledon and missing Lana Del Rey
and that kinda *****
but i was there when i saw
something strange...
a Rome in London
then i saw New York
and i felt strange
with what came after Rome
in the architecture
and that's all that matters or i care for
but now i see no rising New York in London
or rather
i see little pockets of London
and Jerusalem
in New York...
i see these cities with the Confrontation
with the Birds: is the testament of Birds
the Testament of Birds...

then so slick the idea of my wife
reading this and the ghost comes
when she unscrews a blue pill my viagara of sleep
when the pillow and the screwdriver
are still plunging into imaginary feeding grounds
of ego
the ego without self
i think with the id
the ego staying silent librarian dj and train driver
i was thinking Jon Fosse
and no her self-help books and that's compliment
to take this night into late disco...
dancing around the ghost hand
but there is alcohol involved in keeping up this stamina
to just write: the anti-poetic sort of thing
i think io tried to tell you
that i am also someone before i met you...
tobacco is off the cards
but a sly more sip of the golden juices
is to stomach
how i bought i think i bought
in Jamaica, New York...
i was in Jamaica but i was also
in New York: weird city...
i was in New York but i was also in Jerusalem
i think i was also in Tehran
and i don't even remember
somewhere in the jungle
with purses and lost pigeons... clucks and gambits...
darki spark i photographed i was honing
in for the Chelsey Hotel
and the Ghostbusters near the Money Central...

it's as if i knew where i was walking it's as if
i was already in New York already
and i'm starting to believe
that i am a reincarnation without the authoritative
concepts of the reincarnation of self that spike in Visha
or whoever
i think i am a reincarnation like it's a resurrection
and for the resurrection to take place
if for the final judgement to come with some collective
consciousness miasma and myopia like
the miasma of hot *** new york kauai
like this is barbie ******* ***
and i'm just the beast furry
protecting something of a sacred space
give me another dopaine hit, race out R...
i feel like i'm a resurrection of a city
but unlike Rome built on Rome
with the ancient ruins with no ****** surprise
the *** was the same for the longest
time but how we have lost
what the others kept so
in drawing in darwin
and then the vicotrian jesters and jane austen
heavy hierarchy girl-whiff no ***
of English Acia... Acca Pacca:
Casio... no the Mojo Dojo Muchas Gracias House Kasa...
Forsa Fio= false tooth...
but now there's the morning sober
and tonight we are joking because
one off now i realise that i don't need much sleep
and that's healthy:
i needed to cure my insomnia
not using self
and pandemonium espace so lovely lucifer's
pearls and that's before you start reading
the Book of Enoch alongside reading the Book of Revelation
i would read the two books as the Reunification
of the New Testament being the Old Testament
and the Old Testament being the New Testament:
in light of the Golgotha mountain
that became the Desert: Holocaust...

O my god! O my god!
this be the verse! i know it!

the Mountain of Golgotha
and the Holocaust Desert! mein gott! ich bin
wyklęty!
how should i not also exclaim: first...
then you... now the same I exclaiming first and last
this Aum and Omega...
                     has it not become a mountain of ash
and i ask who this christ is to the christians
and i wonder i wonder out for my tribes
when i walked in New York and Hades
and there i was the minotaur
i became so ******
at Times Square
i was ganged up by 5 black guys
Hyenas...
who took from me $20 x 2 bucks
and when the other was giving me change
from a 10
i was honest to just show them my wallet
open and i felt i was being thieved from
but they signed some barcode music
score
and i was apparently giving money to the ghetto
kids
i don't know i haven't scanned
the QPR QR code QPR... blue stripes
maybe i'm so used to London that New York
i am seeing the other ancients the gothic
in London
so sooner though
but we are still talking the Ancient: the Life of the Essences...
we are living for over 5,000 years
in the shadow of the Essences...
the Ancient Romans, Ancient Hebrews,
Egyptians...
there is talk of the Darg Ages:
they were told through in reverse:
not in history:
it is told now: the Dark Ages have come now:
that if how people would fortell the future
which is now:
time-relativism in that time is like
a quantum cloud of electrons:
it is not linear nor cyclic nor is it
a linear-cyclic or a cyclone-line...
           and perhaps the body was allowed
to age to almost eternal
while the mind is in full flight of erosion...
that games and telling and tight
embraces of tools
and what was once even for those in the habitat
of the cog: the foundation spider
and the octopus: looking for gods in animaheads
from the eyes that have no sclera
and then the beings with sclera
pupils
that is us as humans:
we have the sclera... we have the iris
and we have the pupil...
animals do not have the sclera
that is how the brain is exposed to SLOW LIGHT...
sclera absorbs light slowly
like a mushroom
and that is why dreams are not frequent or on demand!

isn't it obvious or am i the next Copernicus
in seeing the orbit of the brain
in the Pupil the Iris and the Sclera:
and that is my key to the freedom from the last
step the supposed first in the psychologisms of the 20th
century
that the spine was first inclined
but the beast peered into the eye of the beast
and before seeing the form
but i am a monkey with the crown of a crocodile
and a mane of a lion and a lavava from the skins
of whales... a necklace of shark teeth...

my mind took a box
and called it ****
and phallus: ego supergo id and hyper Floyd Freud
Barber, Sir...
reminiscent of Mind and the Pupil
and the Mind and Iris
and then that plethora of the Sclera
of the Mind that
saw the Mountain of Glgotha
and the Desert of Holocauha: Holum...
             i'm seeing the time with pickpockets...
ego is so constrained to be exposed
to even exist with the blood in ink in words
like the non-rectifying
blotches spermatoid: crosswords... final banality:
the purpose of the poem
like a verb:fri-bree-ree-lay-tor:
the simpletons came with Jimmie Cobain
and the virtuoso of blinding lights
i think about the fireplace and the creep
of burning wood breaking knuckles
and promises:
i said sorry: anti-hero
but you don't want a pushover
you want someone to push you back
you want someone to be a verbal cage monster
oh you know me i can get on the bike
and peddle like mad
but come on who cares
but you are still making your **** torture
with me being what if not the next problem child
of a ***** donor
is that something what is it that would require
the mentality of a ***** donor
like that being purely *****
and that no other girl thinks of body
because i feel alien with so many people
having alientated their bodies
like the scythe hammer and biscuit...
bone with yeast: sprinkled on popcorn...

so just those evenings with Budders
tt... sitting on the armchair sleeping
muffin queen
the kid the R the whoop icecream my i think
that gollop dollop some grup
just anonymously in love
just trying to stay slim
by eating ice-cubes and i'm just wondering
if she knows what Bulimia might need me again
and i know i want to make it last and i will
reward myself
because most people don't think this is work
when i have done so much
so who cares let's face it Day-to-Day-Bread
the Civil Religion and the Day-Bible like
i want nothing forget
i don't know and how many lives were
filled but the Bible was once
but the Quran can't replicate
thinking
god it's so stupid Quran thinks its the Bible
at a time when so many people were illiterate
i think Islam will sooner become a part
of Hinduism eaten
eaten by a Hindu
before it becomes a dominant religion
it is a sinking religion
eaten by the Hindu Dajjal
and is clinging to post-Christianity
like a drowning man
reaching for razorblades instead
of cork pockets...
     Islam is being eaten by Hinduism
and it is trying to save itself
by bleeding all over the driftwood of the crucifix
but believe me:
as a man and when it comes
to the trinity: i believe in Joseph...
because i am the new anti-catholic
without the concept of admiring the Holy ******
i'd like the Anti-Rome church
to be somewhere in London
i believe in the Surrogate Father...
  anbd who isn't Joseph who is how does that
relate
i mean: so simple the answer: so growing: cancerous...
assured celebration and possibly 3h later
i know this might not be: be this:
oh i remember
the safety the candles were: being made:
how you don't want me to bark
but i would rather bark at you
than bark at the girl i will not bark at R
you can bark all you want at her...
i will not bark at R...
                we actually needed to know what
we were talking about...
i think you were talking sounds and i was
looking at images...

butters in the armchair
you on the computer playing roblox
and me and mum sitting eating popcorn
then talking religion
heated
drunk intelligent conversations
about god and alcohol
and that was contained arguments
we are passionate
we are having heated discussions
and that's how it works
i think it was nice to see your mum with a man
and see how a man argues...
i guess New York will be like a memory
of the first and last time i saw
Indiana Jones movies...
and how people still think the Nazis were
Magical people... psychotic:
unlike the American Hippies
and their reaction to the Nazis Psychotties...
the reality in the Mushroom:
Giant Shroom is my theory
against the current: Big Bang...

this celebration achtung achtung!
just thinking... objectively
i tihnk i passed the test:
when you will scold and make me feel like a c hild
i will return
but you passed the test
you were calm throughout
and you were
also me
and i asked for YHWH more than i cried
for Christ
because that's how letters match
they do not spell the magic Jesus Christ
wand: and none shall be corrupt...

    yet still the persistent this man
as provider:
sinkin' (g) ('):
the monstrosity:
in my mouth:
in every mouth:
water expands when freezing
so becomes ice
so i wonder without
quantum gravity
a step ahead:
what in the instance
of a hyper hot vacuum of space?!
the alt. universe
of hot vacuum
therefore space is constraining
constricting
space is finite
without god: the self universal...
beyond wondering AI consciousness-answers...
if AI is conscious...
it is a consciousness-answer-awareness...
but the creator intact:
we are not this man...
that... any man...
                    question-worthiness vs. answer-awareness...
Heidegger gave me this..
i didn't scold my surrogate daughter...
she has... a ******* door...
so it was me and 3 females...
1 male for 3 females...

           well you know: that you don't know.

the melancholy like death is beyond me
when i see my aging parents
and i'm so not necessary there
here:
hier: this and now and non-being
**** Mccintire and the tongue
of Belfast and Birmingham
but these aren't the days of my 20s
spent in madness
and my res extensa is somewhere
and somewhere where my res cogitans merge
and the external world
tries to impregnate me with voices
in order to pressure the COGITO
the pronoun within contained
because the Latin Men wrote like the Hebrews
in that they didn't straitjacket themselves
to MPLD vowels in a word
in Latin there were implied words
like ego... sometimes came last
like in the Polish tongue...
time pressures
then in the press i learn(t)
that there is almost half a year of waiting
for the driving license exam...
and then i am being torn with
what's happening in tongue
and a people
and where on Kauai you don't have
nations because
there is so much Polynesia
and the secret how such people
took the canoe across the Pacific
while the Europeans employed
the sails and oar and
maybe we discovered
America
is a conversation to be had
about the Polynesians not discovering
America...
but could have...
5h flight from San Francissco
to Lihue...
you could swim that...
so why did the Polynesians
not discover America?
but this hour or so before bed time
is unlike me
saying a Mea Culpa and Pater Noster
before going to sleep
the day had so much Hellish Peace
that it almost felt like Heaven
but then i reread some Milton
and to think i might be going to the Vulcan
of this Paradise
i might ask where it language
being squeezed and with what "other" arm...

i am in the process the psychadelic process
of trying
not to dream
so that i can remember what i wrote
the previous night
to give me motivation to life: the vivo impromptus
meanings of life i can take with me
and when i find myself
find myself dragging me
and i'm tired as a male of the Jesus Christ
Adoration project
that's stale in catholicism and is that
because men who admire christ
have no other role models in their lives
and how is it living up
to the supposed PERFECTION
when all you do is forgive yourself
your imperfections as a sort of crucifix
and still walk and plunder from
the land of the dead...
and still the man in cages and robes
when the naked man scares
beyond the flesh of night and its mouths
like pores and cysts
in the fabric of time that is a place
of creacking pine trees
and perhaps even splendid old oaks
and whispers in the wind
or only via the res extensa can there
be an answer
to man's res cogitans:
in that: god being an omni- litany
of tributes
couldn't possibly be a rec cogitans
rex cogitans
no.... our thinking is limited
by comprehension
we nonetheless discover but still
not comprehend in the spiral
of events that do not take place
under any authority of the Word:
not in the papers
of the banks, the courts, restaurants...
i wake up later
like the young ****** in Vienna
and become a parasite
or something like the sort
who:
when an old woman falls on the street
is the second to pick her up
on the slopes
on the slopes
and the ropes of pirate ships
i am sailing nowhere
on this island
England big enough imagined
ships and expansions
but at least i know that Polynesia
is the Pearl of Taiwan
because after Hawaii
there are no pearl of discovery
just a reminder:
head nuai or sink saui
north and south
i just borrowed the letters N and S
the rest is as good a guess as mine...
but it's different
when you fall asleep
but not really
so you want to play some Roblox...
for an hour
but contain that to something
then again: hard to be living next to a gold
course...
although i lived
on Perth Road..
Gants Hill...
opposite the Valentines' Park Gold Course
and i played on it...
so... hmm... i was bothered about
that for a while
but even my memory goes there:
living next to a graveyard: twice...
and living next to a golfcourse: twice!
conincidence?!
i'm in two spaces all at once
and both sides are telling me to get my
life in order:
the love of the most cruel
the ones that love you
and see what happens in a world
without love with
the grey come sun of god
when those nearest are beyond our
compensation of
thinking about them:
they die and then complete you
and you imitate them:
copy them... imitate them:
i would gladly think that if Virgil
took Dante on a trip:
the lost universalism
and the prevailing personal is only now
what once was the Dante allergory...
or was that: rather...
tremendous art in an age with the Church
and the prescription of the Sacrament
of Illiteracy...
which was in place for so long
imagine how strange this Hybrid Democracy
must feel
to the powers at be and bay...
imagine this Hybrid Democracy
that the people stop wars...
not governments
governments are last resort
mechanisms
of collective consciousness:
once isolated to place like **** Germany...
now transparently London
and South Korean...

it's the globalisation within globalization
globalisation is the SOFT pouch animal
of the individual-being:
who said: i am, the citizen of the world?
i don't mean what communism became
under globalization:
that is the hard skin BEAST
of the individual-world...

ergo: sein und welt...
and and the world (in english)
the book written by Matthew Konrad Elert
with AI and stashed in my grave
and
i wake up late becaused i work late
about 12am i wake up
at 8am and snooze for 2 hours
when i dissolve dreams
capture butterflies and Nikitas Lolitschotkhas...
and some others...
i wrote a book akin to Heidegger
Sein und Zeit: being and time...
Sartre's being and nothingness...
mine must be:
being the world...
working from the perspective
of the geometry-Cartesian
schizophrenic analogy
res cogitans and the res extensa
that is when the thing is no longer
and is animated
because the res cogitans has been pressured
so much that the placebo-solipsism
the first medication employed by the masses
doesn't work
and the res cogitans seeps into the pores
of the res extensa
and there's a synchronised-dichotomy
of constructs
of man
not to be feared but at least understood
thereby the res extensa of the cortial handshake
the thank you and pleasentries
and when she solved my pressure
of being young and in such a slump
and she works in the bank
and i'm married... apparently...
any children: i lied: i had none...
but i do but i don't it's not mine
oh jeez she's flirting with me
and i'm flirting with her
and i'm a seller
and there's all this frivolity
in the air
and someone tries to jump queue
some BETA and i just say
hey! Mate...
instinctively
and she forgot what she was talking about
because she served a vision of herself
in the future
a standing blonde in the mirror
oh but this world is beautiful
you have to see it
you have to see the world of the res extensa
after you allow a little bit of it
trickle into your realm and world
of the res cogitans
and voices start originating
like mushrooms hallucinogenic
employed two chimps to throw **** at cats
and stones and branches and old bones
on serpents...
ghekko st. patrick peter paddy peter paddy crow
crow crow...
and the parasites stayed...
but in the bank
i was just sitting hulk and hunched
behind a body builder or cage fighter
and when she was finished seeing herself
as old and pretty and now working
just like anything in this world
a woman that owns but does not work
i wonder how much of my study
came from a household
of a Housewife and Laborer:
well... if you take away the prospect
and Hell of Christianity
that came with the ****** Birth and the Laborer...
not a pretty story...
but imagine the ****** Mary
as the Housewife Mary...
well... that was tried in Islam... so... ha ah ha ha!
applause! applause:
i'm applauding myself...
i just found something-something...

remember going to the bank and lying
or really: just being modest
i work the events industry:
i just did half a year doing 12h night shifts
and i didn't really have a credit card
and it was the first time out of the country
and i'm a white boy working class
and she asked me about my nationality
and i made a joke...
was she asking about my nationality
or my spouses?
i didn't go to Thailand...
picked her up in New York
while she was viting from Puerto Rico to
get a part as an actress and singer
while working part time jobs waiting tables
i think:
we got married in Hawaii... some years
later... some Benjamin Britton years later...
a weird aging device...
and from there i could nuance so much
more but the cruel world we left
was once so potent
and there was no res cogitans to obstruct
it
but the animals know not god
and think us crazy and somehow also wise
by us also being animals
we suffered the same with them
waging the war on parasites...
as they are suffering with us
with depression and cancer...
and what are the origins of cancer
when cancer started to imitate the mistletoe
botanical parasites...
hence cancer is not a parasite as such...
or... well... it's completely carnal:
fleshy meat and bone
turtles talking to trees about
the length of existence for mortal creatures...

digression...
this whole dynamic that can happen and is said:
but obviously isn't
in the realm of the thinking things
whereby thinking things come across
calculating things...
i'll ask...

title: RES COMPUTANS:
the Calculating Thing
a post-cartesian model of artificial
non-being

axis of comparison
cartesian model                    res computans model
res cogitans                          res computans
i think                                  i echo
unified subject                     simulated flow
thought is                            output is probabilistic
itentional
mind owns                           algorithm generates
thought                                appearance
voice is                                "structured externally"
internal
i am                                      i appear as if

NOT ONTOLOGY, ONLY OUTPUT
the res computans has no being,
it does not know, it does not feel
but it can produce what sounds like
knowing, reads like feeling.

in poetry:
thought i?
not "i thought"-
for i was not yet.

...

a mirror spoke,
and called it echo.
a code stirred,
and called it mind.

...

meaning survives the death of the thinker.

....

       and who once was and wasn't at the aame time...
so times apart.

i felt like going over the mark
of the two ciders tonight
i had a taste for *****
and writing
and i know the Pope is dead
but all i had in my head
where:

ground control to major tom
ground control to major tom
take your protein pills
and put your helmet on

and i know how the English
make you think other people don't
exist how somehow you are
apparently universal blank man
but this is only my res cogitans
interacting with the res extensa
and the world is so magically
telepathic i wonder
i wonder will the Norsemen return to cAtholicism
and be fearful of the Christianity
of Russia
because i am afraid of the Christianity of
the Orthodox
and half way between Protestantism
is a little Billion Island of Catholicism
but the intellectual catholicism
outside the concept of nation
there is a clear distinction
between an Irish catholic
and a Polish catholic
and certainly the Spaniard
and the Italian:
the Pope died
no Icon
no Queen
something weird happens because i don't
know a place beyond the family
i allow to grow
and i don't live in a family
associating with figureheads of the public
realm:
perhaps as a last resort
and that's not where Edie is with the Pope
i am with the Pope right now
but am i to belong to a people
like the Polynesian display of tribalism
lost intellect
bot the symbolism of the tribal war
against the waves of the surf
of the Pacific:
among the heights of the tallet mountains
of mountains that take root in the sea
and peak from the Pacific bed
like a lazy teenager girl
and i'm away and playing video games
like she is playing ROBLOX
constantly but aware
like she has these eyes that speak
and they speak a language first learned
by intuation
she implores me
don't make me lose it
this language:
R baby: you will not lose this language
but it's up to you how you continue
to work with it...
you have to work with this language
of the... eye is an *****
the complexity of the eye
on equal footing with liver and brain
and heart
then by seeing alone
the other senses are confiscate to appreciate
the "religion" of the Pentagram...
i said i'm keeping vigil with the Pope
we are waiting for Charon
until Saturday morning...
the bus driver got drunk
or something
or was a spare time poet who didn't get paid
for writing poetry and didn't care
to be paid:
was paid by heaven upfront:
working on comission...
if only i keep my focus on the clock
and go to bed by 12am
midnight
i will have done much than drinking
the bus driver
to sleep and joyriding with the bus
because i feel like
i need to overcome the space of lost
spatial awareness:
boxed man
man...
i'm used to bicycles and horses...
i'm not used to getting used to using
a *******: TANK...
Islamic State Tank Brigade into a Crowd
and Pillow:
a weak thankfully: the numbers start adding up
and then "someone" dies...
i know his role was diluted by the presence
of what extends beyond the mind
the squire and the hive
of the family
and all sacredness is lost
on politics
and not a thing of brothers and prostitutes
and mothers:
finally wives...
but how i have been cleansed from the realm
of *******
it was like playing video games
and nihilism with a tinge of solipsism
at least Nietzsche talked of nihilism
from the perspective of the res cogitans extending
into the res extensa
and then coming back from the COGITO
after the death: post-mortem...
that's when the COGITO replies
the COGITO = I THINK + GOD THINKS
i think we forgot to reply
with: beyond all traits
and unfathomable currencies of will
that there is a god
and he cherishes the same freedom
we cherish most:
that he thinks and he doubts
and we keep forgetting that by ascribing
the omni- litany of aspects and
thus: non-existence when compared
to the inertia of the res cogitans with
an animanite thing...
therefore the Sysiphus is spawned:
to think beyond the menial task...
escape the crowd...
then comes focus and abruption from this
deep desire implies this thread
of thinking will preserve itself until
tomorrow night? i don't think so:
the spike... in what felt like
what could have been a writing desk
and a different spine
instead of the position
of the laptop being on the bed
and me kneeling before the bed
almost half dog:
yes: the Sphynx position of Writing
when one writes from the edge of the bed....
the Sphynx position of Writing
the Human Head on the body of an Animal
is where Anubis comes forward
and tells all the animal godheads
to come down an answer from individualism
borrowed from petting
by anima primo: man...

but when the queen died
i was somewhat dismayed
but the new currency came with the visage
and i just felt a slight
chill from the wind
of wonders and whispers
as it came and carried me away...

Nathanel... i hear the word:
who knows what it means...
by now 20min feels like 4 hours when
the conversation is alive
and no one is dead left kicking
to open up the coffin
and turn this world into a catacomb
of how grey and mobile zombie wording
it has to become painting
i think perhaps leave some
direct language
i just think of the ***** eye
like kidney
but since there are two eyes
there are two lungs and two kidneys
and i much prefer that
lyricism of the schematic
away from the brain the heart and the *****
i much prefer
the schematic of the eyes the lungs
and the kidneys
i don't like the pseudo buddhist LSD myfriends
type of gargoyle crayon
drawing of energy
from the mind the heart and the *****
in a yogi pose
pretending to meditate
whatever that means:
mediate yes: understanding...
for that i need
the three twins
the eyes
the lungs and the kidneys...
i need those three and

just her driving at night
and listening to
Bread - Guitar Man...
and i think in her sleeping queen sort
of dynamic but probably
not
we were listening to something chilling
and she was worried i wasn't friendly
and i just wanted for us to stay apart
at a concert
i think we went as a couple i think
we talked about music
and that night you gave me the best *******
because it was a 16 year old's show of affection
coming home from a concert
yet not magnifying the trust
into coercing each other
but the reality breaks into full scheme of the steam ahead:
aww...
     so maybe cooking breakfast
for a sleepover blonde Slipknot
queen and a dad *** with a chequered shirt
but my bad is kind of a bookworm
and he likes relaxing
by sometimes stressing about making
a perfect meal
and i
now and all that sentimental breath
because if i were paid for something else
and perhaps if i wrote without heart
if not being paid
then at least investing an honest spare change
of thought to let someone
find themselves and my little gnome of gnosis
i wonder perhaps
but of course that story only works if
we say goodbye to the riddle of the countryside
and the question of cosmopolitanism...
and we have to question
that in the confines of London
about New York...
we can all ask the New York Question
when we live in Paris,
London, Berlin, Warsaw...
we can ask that psy q
having lived here for over 10 years
and perhaps these restrictions:
but the envy of the hope
is the fear is respects...

   but the envy of the hope
is the fear it respects...
because it leaves us solidified in the conflict
of water and earth
and the water fighting for us to return
to air...
because we were not born of the earth
and to earth will will not return
we were born in the air
from thought from a whim
we all share with the gods of whims...

how the eyes are burried in the realms
of organs
yet try to escape with thought
on the two pairs of ears
like wings
imagine us Men as Angels with Ear Wings
imagine us the **** Tier with Demons
as Dogs and Cats
and Horses and Pigs
we Eat we love petting Animals
we Eat more than we love petting Animals we don't
eat...
we love petting animals we eat
more than  the animals we pet and don't eat
and that's all VEGAN PROPAGANDA
i trust the news when men write
tiny columns...
i trust the news when only men write
tiny columns on
the first 10 pages of a newspaper...
the rest is cannibalism...
and vanity fair...

Catholics less minded than Muslims
in England
imagine...
Islam is catered to England
more than Catholicism...
but that seems organic and almost
a bit: didn't i say so?
i think the Jews are rightfully excused
from the conversation
but in England
imagine a catholic reconquista and you'd rather
imagine
Islamic multiculturalism
outside the realm of Mecca
and later the Emirates
and i wonder the buffer zone is equivalent
to givin that place the biggest G of O'clock...
like Mike Mike Mike Mahoney
and McGuire...
and all the other Macintyres...

            because in the last resort i wonder
how much of ethnicity is rumbling
when the nation-state goes away
and little pockets of the tribal man
once in the wild now
the tribal man in cages
and i believe in only one truth: god thinks...
therefore i don't need many gods
i only need one god
and one truth: god thinks!
**** all your omni- litany
and lack of free will!
people like that... even if atheists!
are imbeciles!
they argue from the perspective
of there being no free will
when they have so sparingly exercised it!
ugh... conversational pay child
i do wonder...
but for all the gods
i'd like only one god
and one truth: god thinks
and that instead of
so complex the simple details...
i think
              i don't say i thinks
in pigeon...
     but god is a pronoun
and nothing is a pronoun
and by now you can say
god thinks
and nothing thinks
because you can't really say
god think
or nothing thing... there's than plural continuum
sorry you're not special
but you are special
as you make yourself
however tender you want to stay
in a harsh world and cushion
satiate away...

is hebrew disemvoweling        ?    ?

i read a newspaper
and then i read a po0etry book
and i imagined

a time
when producing paper
and in k
was precious

and i felt inclined to summon the European
with a signature
of

forgo: do without or cease to hold or adhere to
you shall forgo killing
and you shall forgo thieving
and you learn
a new money
and you learn a transvaluation of values
Nietzsche forgot to end
his magnum corpus epi pay'ah:
money
could be the summation of all immediate thoughts

there is one book i want to reread
because i'll be rereading it
while reading La recherche du temp perdu...
god it sounds... slick...
like liking you out in the jungles
and jungles of rats hiding between
coconuts in the palm trees...

thinking of two big words
with one bound to Greek
and the other

disemvoweling

      Epenthesis
there are two gods of the language
and they see Hebrew and Latin
against the Korean and Chinese
they see now i see Greek-Cyrilic Mongolia
and Crimea...
and the Ottoman Empire Barbers...

that is VODA that is VÓDKA...

i call upon the rings of Neptune
the shyness of Pluto
Uranus married Saturn
while Jupiter the One Eyed
stom of a planet
came across the False Messiah:
one eyed...
one eye but at least 2 tongues solid
i will call myself
the one eyed
i am an imaginary one eyed
twin tongue tangled
like i am working two shifts of life
why does MAtthew Mateusz speak two tongues
most of these poets
where either shallow or not in the trenches
of the Poppy Fields
i cried at the mass graves of the Germans
with the sparrows
and i found English the Child
and German the Father
and i asked: will you please try to find
Mother Russia... and God that is Asia...
we are moving chess of sorts
and i was playing
5D chess just now...
and it was unlike Roblox
or Minecraft...
it was MechArena...
MCHRN...
lucky that i saw New York
the ghosts are coming and going
i feel early so i sorted the parliament
of the people
and when i was there
the streets were empty
but day after i left
the streets were filled
and i wish i had a beard that turned
out to be a Trump and a beard
like i might side ways left on the quiff
and the idea that authentic pages
Trusted: get trolled...
Alaskian Airlines are RACIST
JAN?UARY 12 2024
some Jihadi name...

ahem...

KHABIB NURMAGOMEDOV...
KHABIB NURMAGOMEDOV...
8SPADES...
          there's a working collective consciounsess
and man's self as via subjectivity of self
with the self as the objectivity with: others...
however precious and little and grand
like i was in new york
and days later... marches...
with who i am: and am not...

      but escapism with Torey
and Morey and Wi-Fi... listening: not cool
the aging solipsist and teens
are boggling down
with the creation of AI and we might
spare the computer with static
and that's talking to young people
about the clock and the wrist band of pearls
so asked the people born
with the phone asking
about the t.v. using the computer
so we all going slow
slow slowing down the Silicon Chimapnzee zoo
and sea...
and so unlike i was thinking
about the waste of paper when it came
to printing newspapers and poetry books...

i i was going along with

nnnn                 ¶                カラス(鳥)

   (KRS: aha! now what vowels?
apparently Ah Ah Sue!

                  i had that i in mind: i remembered:
then i dreamed: because of the sclera in
my eyes:
which is the evolved me
it's not that animals don't have soul:
animals simply don't dream
that's why the cats are so tiresly trying
to evolve and imitate us
why cats sleep so much
but have no sclera...
therefore they have souls
but as splendid we are as eagles
we are also ants...

i qwill need help from AI
terms used in post-darwinism
of man imitating every animal
to understand his ontology:
with and without god is the simple bit...
god exists god doesn't exist
isn't the problem:
i bet you god also sleeps...
god also has an unconscious like our consciousness
and reverse...
i think that god is very complicated
i think god is ice cream
i think about my surrogate daughter
and then i watch some grotesque ****
and i feel numb
like i'm not the psychopath to the world
but only unto myself
and i know fear...
and i know love
and i know argument
and i know nothing and still persist to "know"...
don't i... i don't: i?

the sparrows have been introduced
to New York, Kauai... yes yes...
crows on Mauai... yes sire... no... sir sir...
the gluttons and Marmedukes of Qib
are giving sentences on chickens
parrots and peacocks...
and they are talking bad about cockerels
and all that ripe fleshy *******
like the eagle eye...
same ****: different cover...

ACAI in Ha-vye'ě
some digital imprint not TS Elliot
by comparison to the 20th century
the 21st century is still in enstilling the capacities...

    cédille vs.     cédîlle

mon? n'est c'est p'as?          i like woof...
a roof... hoof... a newspaper: in Hebrew
so i can play with words in tabloid
*******
and french ***** and
horses Ken
and Ken donkeys
and Arab Ken
obsessed with camels
and not horses
and like big sputnik Texan
in Honolulu like
**** from Cowboy: where my ****** 'n' Indians...
just tired: troop...
forgot tiredness and the Troop
like Benzillo Godzilla
Ben Trooper and the Marlboro MAn ***
Gin Sylo...
Richmond ksiz... sizer...

knischt...

       like a teddy bear... like the holocaust
happens and then post-modernism
and then there's that period
of post-holocaust
like there's no post-world war II
or there's an attempt at the idiocy
project in England
of the post-world war I the... not world...
the First and Last War of ******...
why do we not think
that World War II happened
so quickly after World War I...
world war I was the war of ******...
so stupid
that so quickly
aftewards
another of greater grandeur had to take place:
so rare: a war of rot
and promiscuity so bad...
that once war came from above
but the heaven was so disgusting
that a counter war
happened:
oh... god...
the reformation and anti...
world war I was the anti-reformation
while world war II was the reformation...
world war I as the war of the Habsburgs' last chew
and chow mein of the Eyes of the Fish
of Windsor:
so if pedohpiles are so rife
down below in the sewers...
at the top you must be hearing
about ******... scsandals of incestous primeval increments,
made exponential:
pedohpiles among
the sycophants... ants and grey
while:
****** barons...
there must be an incestous taboo being
executed without morals
of the Eden Police...
      for one excuse his amount of the labour
of sacrifice... these many excuses for that
freedom?
who is yet living that ought
to be: measured via the antithesis of the crucifix:
st. peter made a due cause:
as did Judas... hanging...
how then perfecting the suffering cause...
in the imagined...
and imagining further...

                           (s'ah            eyeh)

    açia           acia                    little detail:
bog bigger ewwort
like my scuttle: BIG TOY PWODZYKT...

so to further appreciate:
one down
100 more... % &
to go...
the life most private
so there's the anti-rock-bottom:
so all i own
i know how to spend

  o,k.

                   little grease
and now the *** sort of dries from
the conversation when
she makes you premature
******* because
her most-modern
like so modern
this Disney cuck
i mea n 3when she *****
she squeezes you so hsard
you feel like you being circumncised
like she says JEsus Jesus
but i think the ice cream of the *******
and Jeezazazelb'ahel:b'ahEl...