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Reece Mar 2013
California highway buzzes and the searing sun shines on the beach towel as I stroke Walt Whitman's beard
Transcendent and alive, but dead, still dead as my brother and his brothers, the 19th Century posse
We know the world better than them but are less learned, as the schools are a failure
and the business is us, but not the same as the industrial business of yesteryear
We are here to consume, consume and as we're dying of consumption , we consume more.

Alcohol, cars, phones and laptops, tablets, tablets, pills and more pills, condoms, liquor, ***** and brews, women, men, more women, more men, razors, lasers, heaters, coolers, snacks, rucksacks, ex lax and nick-knacks. They sell us dreams and nightmares, movies and bomb scares, they sell us news by the hour and power as they exert their own power. They give us gifts and incentives, draw us in so they they can stick us with a pin or a bracelet, and we too can sell to our friends on group hangs or as we stand still listening to our favourite bands. Billboards scream for our attention, or the buses stop at the intersection, and we're supposed to open our little phone and buy whatever is advertised. Why? Y?

They call us the Y generation too, why? Perhaps we ask the question  too much, perhaps we haven't asked enough. Perhaps the X generation simply ponder why we are so consumed with the technology they feed us. Why? Why must they question us, when we are the next great generation, we do laugh at that too. The internet is the new religion, bow down before Google and drink from the pixelated chalice, my child. Any question one could need answering is answered by the internet. The Bible is irrelevant in our society, burn it and download a bible app on the latest smartphone, the Qur'an too, hell, try the Tanakh, the Smriti and the Pāli Canon, for we are enlightened ******* It. And we want more.

somenonamesarcasticasshole@yahoo.com
RE:PARTY TONIGHT!!!!!

Hey yo mane some warehouse downtown has this dubstep DJ from like ******* Iraq or some ****. *** down, gonna be hella ******* there
xo

What music do you like?
All of it
Films?
All of them
TV
I don't own one but I watched every episode of The Wire on Netflix
...
I am a pansexual being riding the ever changing dunes of the Sahara, like so many great poets before me.

Digital immigrants and immigrants of empathy too
How serious do you believe us to be?
I am not using sarcasm as a form of wit for I have no wit.
Stoicism and rejection of education, employment and training.
We surly are the neatest generation, how can we make a mess if we are not awake most days?
Save for the endless party that is life, as we throw used glow sticks at women we desire
and ***** over car windows before getting blown on the lawn

lol dat wuz cray last nite
xo

Die young poets we have no desire for your kind, pacify us with Kerouac and Ginsberg so that we may emulate intelligence and impair the senses, for we care not about the real world either
Our world is the only one that exists, yours will soon crumble
We have trained for the end with extensive views of zombie flicks in coffee houses

@SomeFacelessJerk Follow for follow

Hey OP, you are a ******.
Why yes, yes I am. Does that bother you.
No, OP. You see I too am a ******.

Do away with your hurtful words they have no meaning today
White man died and lost control of his precious dictionary
We are here to save language by replacing all vowels with X's and O's
We are here to consume and in turn consummate this marriage,
the marriage of ignorance and bliss.
I feel as if I lost control of this particular piece and in turn lost control of myself
The snow is falling and I decided to freeze myself to death
The snow as I learned is a fantastic insulator and so I only served to warm my spirits

Addendum
I am not a poet

Footnotes on The Addendum
All people are poets but only a few are talented enough to shine like [insert simile here] and cause the world to [insert hyperbole here].

Addendum to the Footnotes of the Addendum
xo

Additional Notes
Apathy is the overriding factor in our lives, or at least that's how it seems to me. The trust fund kiddies in their beach houses are bored because Mommy and Daddy have no attention to spare them. The kids without parents in the projects are bored too, bored of the death and poverty, they're bored of the trust fund kiddies playing gangster, buying ******* from Mad Jack the Black Mack on Smack on the corner of 3rd and 15th. I am bored by the words I write, you are bored by the words you read, and we are all bored of the capitalist agenda that serves only to perpetuate boredom amongst us and bleed our pockets so that we have no choice but **** each other for their amusement as they place obscene bets on which child will 'win'.

*******, I have More Notes
Take this work for the post-post-post modern-proto-futurist-pre-apocalypse ******* that is. I have attempted to put no substance into this piece, apart from grams upon grams of ******* I brought from some guy some place, some time ago. It doesn't really matter, and we all stopped caring.
Got Guanxi Jun 2015
soldier of fortune, making moves on the battlefield,
chess checking chances,
Suntzu advances,
as the sun moves and dances.
creeping in trenches, sleeping in shifts,
bullets fly overhead as you hope that they'll miss.
butterflys in the rose fields,
butchered guys in the poppy fields.
broken dreams, decimated teams,
regiments unravelled at the seems
unrivalled scenes that you could never believe.
superhuman movements and medals achieved.
let go and breath, silently amongst violence and tryrants.
No man planned, for no mans land.
The best laid plans lead to mass graves,
massacres last for days, it's hard to understand.
tactics underhand, gas masks steal identies,
you must move fast to counteract the effects of mustard gas
and hidden identities.
popup cemetries, innovative remedies,
death strikes at any moment,
yet it's hard to keep focus.
Don't lose your mind.
Mistakes of mankind, repeated in time.
babyfaced freshmen turn to hardface veterans in the spaces of seconds.
replaced in moments with conscripted kids deplaced from happy homes.
men never found and no chance to atone.
warmongers amongst them that soon change there tones.
railway children leave villages in rubble.
cornered and in trouble as the bodycount doubles.
darknights spent in candlelight
children sleep in there bed as bombers glide overhead.
the bleek reality goes over there heads.
the blitz is a travesty that decimates articheture and leaves structures in travesty.
calamities in the evening and in the morning a start clarity of the destructive reality.
hindsight in bombsites, mortuaries from mortar shells
instructions to give them hell,
you believe them less as each days passes.
bodies piled up in masses, teardrops without caskets.
only dogtags identify the men in the bodybags.
men treated worse than dogs, the living skip over the corpses
of fallen comrades
peace will not come fast. hard to run fast with rations and rucksacks.
bullets start to wizz past as they proceed to fufil dumbtasks,
whiskey in hip flasks. trying to shoot back,
wishing you just get a lift back home to the motherland.
Fighting in foreign lands,
your mother holds her head in her wrinkled hands,
her husband holds her close and hes been there before you.
fought in the great war too and lived through to tell the tale
and ironically see history repeating itself.
a picture of their son sits on the shelf.
he lies wounded in battle, needing there help.
o well.
give them hell.
its just one of many stories to tell.
This was influenced by a verse by Ra Rugged Man
Macstoire Mar 2014
Atop an Orange van driving through the jungle
Journeying toward Ugandan Safari
Heads skimming branches and hanging leaves
And above us super sized spiders held between the trees

Up-tailed Pumbas dash into the unknown
where branches are tangled within themselves
and cacti are dressed with vines like a curtain
giving lives some security from the hunters hidden within

Nearing the fall the redness of soil shines shards of diamond
like the confetti of angels
Whilst the deathly currents are gushing a fierce calming
the spray saturates us in a welcome cooling
as we view the hanging rainbow of bliss

The journey continues with our legs dusted in glitter of the earth
and wind blowing the wet from our skin
A knock delivers generous giving’s of green
And we listen to an orchestra of nature
welcome us to the scene of Africa as it should be

Within the park we’re stunned by stretching scenery
Raw Africa as far as eye can see
Afront us a distance of still Savannah
Yet life roams within in abundancy

Of which life we’re left wondering
As we reach the camp of the red chilli
our favourite taste of beer greets us
So sitting back we see the sun sinking
Whilst man builds for us shelter to sleep in

Next morn rises early setting out for sightings
And we watch the red-hot sunrise upon the Nile
The light catching glistening ripples of water
and the painted sky reflecting onto the hippos habitat

Our first taste of the wildlife we wish to see
Their faces skim the wet shallows
and occasionally rise to gather gasps of air
Father and child fight for hierarchy
And we’re excited to witness the creatures’ honesty

Across the water atop Betty life feels complete
Without doubt there’s no better place to be
Chapati and egg breakfast with wind in our hair
whilst we look for movement of life amongst the trees
Our faces stretched with permanent grins of glee

It’s so quiet we can hear the grasses rustling
The tempo set by the crickets chirruping
Interrupted only by spontaneous sound of birds singing
And whistles of romance as the winged ones are wooing
Peace is so perfectly performed it’s mesmerising

Of animals and birds we encounter many
The signatory Kob prance elegantly upon the heath
and dodge road collision at the last minute
Reminding us that this land is theirs
Pace needn’t pander to our presence

We catch glimpses of mongoose scarpering into bushes
And guinea fowl following the leader as they dot along the roadside
Kingfishers fluttering flirts in the skies above us
then make a sudden swift dive for feed in the ground beneath

The giraffe stand still like statues
all pointed toward the sun like proving a point of endurance
Determined not to let us see them run
While the birdlife exceeds expectations
as we score sight of spoonbill feeding breakfast in the lily littered lake

We meet herds of buffalo grazing
whilst birds peck the pests from their backs
proving every part of nature has its’ purpose
And making their bulky weight appear as no threat

The queens of the food chain are found chilling modestly in the shade
ignorant of our privilege for close proximity
Unfazed by vehicles gathering in view of her public rarity
she relaxes comfortably at roadside so calm she’s almost cuddly

Upon the Nile we witness wildlife washing
Flumps are cooling in the muddy waters
Ears flapping whilst feeding on the grasses of the riverbank
oblivious to the still and sinister crocs waiting within for prey to pass
their jaws held open ready to strike a snack

The blazing heat and gentle motion leaves passengers falling into sleep
But they willingly wake to view the gushing falls of Murchison
cascade down the rock front separating the hills of pure luscious green
and creating current for driver to fight so to journey back safely
Not become another story of tragedy

Then as we wait to board the boat back
Baboons come hither to hunt our rucksacks
To spite their unwanted paparazzi
They help themselves to our belongings greedily
Mother carrying child throughout the robbery

In two days atop Betty and water we’ve been enriched with excitement
and opportunity to see so many new beings
Route home passes Ziwa meeting the endangered rhino species
And we share time with Obama and his protected family

Our last portion of pleasure is hopeful
as we watch the bulky beasts live life naturally
in a sanctuary maintained by committed rangers
who help us follow their motion so closely
we see them soak and scratch their skin

Then back in Betty we have one last long journey
that takes us back to our dreaded reality
of a working week back in capital city
We’re sad but glad to hold a memory
of what was a fantastic fateful opportunity
Merchison Falls, Uganda. 13-15th January 2013
Joe Cole May 2014
OK lads and lassies we're going to take a walk, just 10 short miles
in that forest over there
WHAT!!!! Yes I know its dark and gloomy but then some forests are
but there's nothing there to harm you, nothing there to fear
I see you have the rucksacks I told you all to bring. Right folks
open them up and we'll see whats contained within
Ah theres no surprise at what you've got in yours, a tiny flask a magazine and your lucky rabbits paw.( Obviously it wasnt lucky
for the rabbit)
In yours just a make up bag now that'll really do some good,
at least you'll still look beautiful when your dying in the woods
Right lets take a look at what I've got in mine, a 10 x 8 tarpaulin
and a ball of nylon twine
Ah yes a survival knife the handle holds a flint for striking fire,
and in this bag 3 snares each 18 inches of supple wire
Now this small tin contains my means to stay alive, 2 small containers of lint from in my tumble dryer, perfect tinder for
making fire
This little brass things with holes in the top is my small trangia
cooker
2 ounces of spirit poured in there gives 15 minutes of fire
A picnic blanket aint much use if your stranded in the woods, well this one is because the underside is completely waterproof
This old tin mug has served me many times as a makeshift
cooking ***
A litre bottle of water and it weighs 15 pounds the lot
So heed the lessons carefully,  it might help you to survive
Carry the 15 pounds that I do and you might stay alive
Actually I carry several other bits and pieces as well but it all comes within the 15 weight limit I set myself
Heba Badr-El-Din Jun 2011
Another year
A new age
As 40 left
50 drew near

I guess
It came as a shock
I should have
Watched the clock

50! 50!
Wrinkles and rucksacks
Camp-outs and bald caps

We’ve all come out to see you
On your special day
Just to wish you
A Happy Birthday!
Erin Jan 2018
I have a bit of a blunt proposition for you:
let us move to Wisconsin or somewhere just as hidden
among soy fields and monotony;
let us leave our names behind,
the concrete slabs too heavy for our broken frames and silk rucksacks;
I am tired of fulfilling a Sisyphus contract, to be entirely honest.

I think that we could hitchhike from I-95
and drum our anthems on fleshy kneecaps,
our sights pulled away from the windows of some random Honda Accord
as scenes of purple mountains majesty paint themselves
on the insides of our singed eyelids.

Wouldn’t you love to skip along dirt roads
and forget the concrete jungles
that left painful calluses on your palms
and broke my left arm in a juvenile monkey bars contest,
complete with purple cast and a tablespoon of kids’ ibuprofen.
Pleistocene mulch would no longer plant itself
in our pink feet,
and the scars from past romps would heal.

We could lay in the high grasses until high noon,
until the moon rises high in the sky,
until it sinks behind our worn heels
and lights them with its cool flame.

Our minds could wander in Wisconsin,
wily teenage worries abandoned in favor
of punk-rock philosophies.

Maybe we could even make up that alt band
you dreamed of at sixteen,
as blandess is the birthplace of creativity;
you could pick up a flea market guitar,
and I could sing with a newfound, folksy humor.

We could do anything, and we could do nothing.

That’s the glory of something over the turnpike.

Just shake my hand,
those callouses scraping my crepey skin
and forming a blood bond like no other.

No signature required.

Leave your post stamps on your pock-marked kitchen counter.
Rob dale Apr 2016
That old tin car could take you outta this town
Down dusty tracks with rucksacks on the backseat.
The wallet with the hole in and your last bit of change, its always the same.
The sun in your eyes and no shades, just go the other way, its ok.
Tanned hands to shake can mean money to make, a week or two later and you have made another break.
Bunk beds and room shares, tired eyes dont care, its just another rest before the day breaks again.
The fire cracks and cooks the the catch, hungry mouths wait, eager hands hold the plate.
As the bottle gets passed strangers share laughs, of times reminiscent of the one they share now.
So dont sit around with a frown feelin down cos that old tin car could take you outta this town.
Bee Feb 2018
no good were the rucksacks from Tuesday afternoon.
fragile reminders of forest forts,and magic tricks.
folded away, forgotten like
the tepid tranquil locket in my sister’s top

drawer---claims ee inspired her(Never,capitalize)
words
wealth
windows of opportunity

ensue the missed fortune that’s taking a break.
occasions like obstacles
like the river
like the hills
like landmines
adjusting the kingdom.
chances are drawbridges or
stumbling blocks and barriers of
possibilities and anticipation.
monumental castles and adjoining log cabins,
the raw pecking orders.

shore up your nearest and dearest
to    lower case
memorial mountain.
out of harm’s way with tiptoes of an
ostensible signature claim to fame.

(EE Cummings couldn’t have found the words)
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
first you want to rob me of a mother tongue,
then you want an uncle tom's worth
of an english person?
   what's next, chimps with rucksacks?
you're pushing the line, kind anglo!
you're really pushing the ******* barrier!
you think i'll treat my next-door neighbour
like a king? you ******* kidding me?
the **** deserves his: "compliments":
what are these people think they are?
sacred hindu cows?
**** em, a pleb is a pleb, doesn't matter
what country of origin...
do i see your face on a banknote, or nodding
with a crowd? no... well then...
plebs till the field, ****!
why? i know all too well why
monster magnet covered three kingfisher
by donovan...
           so? go **** yourself...
     i didn't want capitalism in my land,
you didn't want capitalistically competitive
economic workers...
  shame on you! you taught your sons nothing!
if i wanted to teach leeches, i'd teach them:
we attune to the hunger.
i don't feel jealous with my neighbour,
i'd just like to beat, the ****, out of him...
   if he owned a bulldog, i'd punch the dog
first, before starting an aim at him...
but that's how it goes: gotta punch
the slobber...
   honest to god i don't remember being
in the last fight since i was 12...
i miss the fighting... i feel: rusty...
  no amount of ******* celibacy
does the trick...
            i just haven't been in fights...
i scratched my head more times than laid
a plum pouch...
          in the years i can remember...
i'd love a ruffle with a fellow man
just as i'd love to have intimate *** with a woman
outside the appeal for prostitutes...
sometimes it comes along, that dog
on a leash: loss of object-object riding
the donkey pleasurable: goof ball and
side-tracking the end result...
       "relationships"...
first i watch the ***** of candidmommy,
and then comparative "literature"
of donovan's vs. monster magnet's
three kingfisher...
            beat ****, esp. if:
by bloodhound gang -
ain't nostriptease if the stripper is crying...
and my neighbour?
   he doesn't own a crown,
he doesn't own an amnesty international
immunity,
         ****, i'm starting to think that
missing fighting is worse than missing ***...
so i started punching myself in the face,
and while wearing sunglasses,
seeing them fall off my visage after a lazy punch...
i know that men can really get worked up
over not having enough ***,
but that's sadistic, playing this game of
****** endeavour with them...
i'm starting to realise that,
   what i really miss?
  it's almost homophilic, in that:
    i miss punching someone...
       i miss being punched,
  i miss punching someone, but not it a sport
affair of competition,
i mean: the rough & tough impromptu...
i miss that more than ***...
i'd love to have a fight with my neighbour...
naked, and the ultimate fetish of such a scenario?
smeared in olive oil, or smeared in
butter...
     like some gag's worth of a gay pride brigade
march parade... the charlie salvador
reenactment type...
oil up ***: foul mouth 'as to speak...
beauty punch that lad into a botox pair
of puckers...
           i swear to god,
i miss having a fight more than i miss having
*** with a woman...
   last kidney pie i ever made was with
kieran o'mahoney...
               in school, before a c.t.d. lesson...
thank **** he's a nightclub bouncer
these days... too the skin-head to
the butcher of scalps: and made a decent
living, looking fat, and ugly... miracle!
        yeah, i know, i have a chili's worth
of tongue waggling...
   i can't say i'm a decent fight,
       let's just say: i'm rusty...
        so i beef up, punching myself in the face
a few times, every few days...
sometimes i manage the lazy grit
with a plum hue on my knuckle...
          sensibility of talking the proof,
after having engraved yourself as a tattoo
on a *****'s ****...
         and: well: the pleasantries
of western woman's freedoms,
and their subsequent harems...
oh believe me: i still have dream-contents
akin to a child...
    i'd still prefer to have a proper fight,
than ******* my favourite **** star;
i'm building up a compendium...
         don't worry, i'm not squirm-ish;
all i have to hide, is an afro's worth of *****,
which i would invite a gardener to sort out,
had i, a regular partner to engage with.
Big Virge Aug 2020
It Has Been Said...
That... " Words Paint Pictures "...

Well CERTAIN Pictures Reflect FACTS...
But CERTAIN Numbers Make Me Wonder...

What's The Deal... ?
Are These Figures... REAL... ???

" 666 "...
Is The... " Mark of The BEAST "... !!!

But... " 999 "...
Calls Out... The POLICE... !!!

" 666 "... " 999 "...

Take A Minute.........
REWIND... And OPEN Your Mind...
If You FLIP Three Sixes On Their Head...
THINK About THIS What Do You Get... ???

Does The DEVIL Enlist... ?
Policewomen And... Men... !?!

9/11 Saw The Towers... ROCKED... !!!
And NINE ONE ONE Calls Out THE COPS... !!!

Well Since THAT DAY It's Been THAT WAY...
PO-LICE States... ALL OVER The Place... !!!
SIRENS Here And SIRENS There...
In FACT Police Sirens... EVERYWHERE... !!!!!!!!!

While CERTAIN Words Are USED To BLUR...
And Cause A STIR By... AIMING SLURS...

"Be wary of men, with beards and rucksacks !
Especially if, they're Asian or Black !"

"What's up with that ?
Clean shaven or not, blacks still get stopped !
Just check the stats, you know that's fact !"

See Things AREN'T REALLY What They Seem...
Words And Numbers Sometimes PLUNDER... !!!
Ask A Scheming... THIEVING Plumber... !!!!!

See It's CLEARLY A SKILL...
To Use... Pen Or Quill...
To Make Words Paint Pictures...
Through Your... Scriptures... !!!

MANY TRY But Just Can't Find.....
A Way To Make Words...
Create VISIONS That Work... !!!

Like FINE ART Does...
When It Touches Someone... !!!
From... " Impressionists "...
To........ " Graffiti Artists ".........

GREAT Lyricists Paint Pictures Like This...
While Economists And MOST Journalists...
Paint Pics' With Things Like... " STATISTICS "... !!!!!!

Statistics CAN Be USED To TRICK...
As Well As Confuse... That's POLITICS... !!!!!

It's A Game of NUMBERS And of WORDS....
MILLIONS SUFFER... While THE REST Prosper............

By The REST I Mean A Minute Few... !!!
Who ABUSE The Dream While Majorities FEUD... !!!!!!

My Use of Rhyme INFUSES... Minds...
With Visions of... Humanities Crimes... !!!!!!
SOLUTIONS Well That's Down To YOU... !!!
I Merely Sell MY... " Point of View "...
Through Scriptures Built To Give You Clues...
About What FILLS... Perceptions' Boots... !!!

What YOU PERCEIVE May NOT BE True... !?!
What YOU BELIEVE May Have You FOOLED... ?!?

THINK It Through............................ ...
Is REALITY What You CHOOSE To SEE... ?!?
Or Is It Simply... What You FEEL... ???

Within My Heart Like I Said At The Start...
These Days I Feel Like What's The Deal... ?

So MANY LIES Are Now Contrived...
To KEEP What's REAL From Peoples' Lives...
That Words Like THESE Are Seen As Being...

A THREAT To NATIONAL SECURITY... !!!

It's AMAZING To Me...
... How FALLACIES...
FEED Peoples' FEARS...
Like Conscious Speak...
Falls On... DEAF EARS... !!!

How Many Years... !!?!!
Has It Been This Way... !?!?!

From Slavery Chains To Todays' PEERS...
MANY CHOOSE To Hide Behind Veneers...

EVEN When... The Picture's CLEAR... ?!!!?

Money HOLDS So MANY Souls... !!!
That Peoples' Hearts Have Turned ICE COLD... !!!!!

It's COLD In The Dark And REALITY's STARK... !!!
If POLICE Charts See Your... " I.D. Card "...
And It Has A... BLACK MARK...
Underneath Those CHARGED...
As... TERRORISTS At Large... !!!

What You Buy Into May Confuse You... !?!
So Be MINDFUL of What You Choose... !!!
Be It TV News Or Technological Tools...
What You INFUSE May CLOUD Your Views... ?!?

But Through My Art My Words IMPART...
A Number of Scriptures Enlisted To TRIGGER...
CLEAR VISIONS... " Within Ya' "... !!!

By Using Some...

" Figures, Words and Pictures "...
Numbers and the whole 9/11 sitch', inspired this, and looking at things today, how much has really changed ???
There's only cancer whether it be afflicting the skin or the lungs or bowels. It's cancer. Cancer is errant (unneeded, unchecked) healing cells identical in function to placental cells. British embryologist of Edinburgh University Dr. John Beard theorized that malignant cells & trophoblast cells (feeder cells that form a pre-embryonic clutch) were indistinguishable which suggests that the healing process and the gestational process are the same which sheds light as to why tumors (in men & women) contain rudimentary skin & lung cells, hair follicles & tooth material.
   The Kennedys are our masters! Before each new Kennedy Americans grovel like whipped coolies. In the U.S. there's a permanent, nation-wide, collegiate mountaineering convention as exemplified by the preponderance of rucksacks.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
boom! days like this: surprising come 4pm... while spending
the afternoon slob-esque... too tired to cycle...
some Adam ******* movie...
  don't mess with the Zohan?!
    Hebrew humour... slap-stick... simple...
easy-going... i don't like complicated jokes...
comedy should never be intelligent...
tragedy... that's another bag of bagels...
comedy out to be something to resurrect
the child in man... so much of it... ugh...
too complicated: the trying... the twying...
too tired for anything except for making three attempts
at taking a ****... sun's pretty... sunshine even prettier...
a decent glass of the wine i made....
and then 4pm hits... a message from one of my managers...
Saturday's event is coming up...
Tyson Fury's last fight of his career against Dillian Whyte...
Saturday, Wembley... mammoth shift...
sign in at 12pm... sign out at 1am...
                                   i'm almost thrilled to be taking
the Jubilee night tube for the first time back to Stratford
then... the N86 back to Romford... then walking back
home...
      finally! finally! my patience has paid off...
i listened, i respected everyone... i was just a puny steward...
work that wasn't even work to me:
not... not if you've been a roofer prior... **** easy
load of *******...
         i get a message from one of the managers...
give me a quick call...
    so i call him up... good afternoon, what's the issue?
oh... we've had to... shuffle the roles up a little...
would you mind being a supervisor for the entire
media crew? you'll meet and greet them...
and then escort them pitch-side... £14 an hour...
        but you'll also be working longer...
oh thank you... i'd greatly appreciate that...
   phone down... shoom!
            bye bye... oh this one guy... just got on my nerves...
on the same level of the hierarchy...
but... brain damage... worked longer...
was familiar with the girls... started thinking it was
a good idea to boss me about...
        standing out the stadium like a bunch of pawn
******... directing people... confiscating alcohol...
telling them they couldn't come in with rucksacks...
**** yes!
             Apache Indian: Boom Shack-Ah-Lak...
  finally... doing something i once recalled as useful...
must have really did a good job in other venues...
and... technically speaking...
i should have an NVQ level 3 to fulfilling this role...
oh... the practicality of the workforce...
when experience and: trust play a bigger role than
merely qualifications...
             meritocracy! i've found it! it was lost for a while...
but it's back... and... booming...
now i can't wait... i'm actually going to see
the last fight in Tyson Fury's career...
   ring side with the media crew...
                           this isn't work... this is a free pass!
mind you... pitch-side for the West Ham vs. Frankfurt
Europa League semi-final too...
tickets are currently selling... cheapest? over £300 (s)quid!
he he... ha ha...
                       ****... which means...
tomorrow is going to be a day of compact exercise
to beef up a little... and general hygiene...
nail cutting... i need to visit my Turk to trim my beard
and moustache...
   and i'll need to visit my hairdresser so she can cut
some lawn off my cranium...
   i'll need to re-iron my trousers... doubly polish my shoes...
hmm... make myself some extra lunch...
whoever said that work is drudgery...
               well... if you haven't been over-educated for
certain things... i guess it must be... boring...
for me the rule still stands at that black joke:
arbeit macht frei...
                              escapism... it really is...
                         in terms of what could be considered
manual labour... personally? it was a lot easier dealing
with inanimate objects... less stressful...
it's a lot different dealing with people...
              all that veneer... façade... i'm actually...
awed by my ability to have been able to pull this sort
of rabbit from a top-hat... well... yeah:
like a magician... after all... i'm the one psychiatrists
diagnosed as either schizophrenic or psychotic...
i mean: if you've been given a diagnosis as bad as that...
and now... you're... going to be a supervisor
for the media crew at Wembley stadium..
            ha ha... my face: right now... is a full moon...
and i have a smile on my face like a crescent orange...
well... someone got something wrong...
along the way...
          mind you: they never figured... maybe:
bilingualism is not a mental-disorder... hmm...
                i don't think they figured out that fact out...
maybe... 10 years from now...
    but by then... i'm already happy...
                     - there's this massive philosophical angle
to all of this:
   no one can imagine... how being down-trodden
feels like... until... the reverse happens...
as a man... you bask in... being entrusted with
something... outside of your "supposed" reach...
     oh man... it's far better than being...
what's the term... having women over-invest in you?
i'm looking... looking...
         oh hell no... to stand on equal footing with
men in a workforce... to distinguish yourself...
to be promoted... that's better than...
being able to approach an nth number of women
with bedroom success...
                    you get to feel: more: complete...
you allow yourself to find a totality: the sigma / sum
of you... you're like: right...
i can move the whole of me... rather than some
pitiable shrapnel of me of only being a hard-on
eager puppy...
            i can put on a masquerade... of...
professionalism...
                       and unlike being a teacher's pet...
although... in history class... i was a teacher's pet...
i just enjoyed the history of Anglo-Saxon England
too much...
                what?!
          but in the workplace... it's... phew... oh... ooh...
so relaxing working with strangers and not being
in the authoritarian hell-hole of working for
your father: i don't care if the money is not better...
but... to be released from the entanglements of
a father... being thrown into a... brotherhood...
sure... there are superiors... but...
the greatest teacher was my grandfather...
          he knew how to deal with people...
           just shakes hands: keep a firm handshake...
and firm eye-contact...
the rest is easy-peasy-cup-cake-baking...
             jeez! and i was such an outcast in my 20s...
seriously... after coming across the choir
and the great wind that dispersed it...
     i secluded myself...
             the demiurge was this: || close to ruining me
completely...
i have to thank him for giving me a second
chance... i guess i was: as best as i could have been
to my Hebrew neighbour...
but this is better than seeking pick-me-ups
while having *** with prostitutes...
   to hell with fame... i just was a nibble of the world...
the whole... fame fabric can... dissolve...
i just don't want to suddenly find myself
surprised at being mortal:
and... doubly surprised at being unable
to give up... what i've worked up towards!
life... spare me: give me just a little...
   and let me allow death no satisfaction when
it comes to rounding up the loan of life...
              have my books... have my shashka of
a wooden branch i made to look like... a Cossack sword...
have my stamp collection... have my collection
of banknotes...
          one thing... eternity... and those 72 rottweilers...
well... dobermanns... Alsatians...
all three... and i need plenty of forest...
fields... hills... mountains even... to just go:
******* and stroll with these dogs...
          i'll give death everything i own for that...
and... could you... sort of...
you can take my phallus away...
but can you ensure i have at least one diarrhoea
sit down... i mean: taking a **** sometimes
feels better than an *******...
  that'll be nice... no... i don't need the idea of eating...
just taking a ****... i can't forgive eternity not allowing
me to... (a) take a dog for a walk...
(b) taking a ****...
    i don't need to eat... i hate eating because:
i hate chewing anything beside poultry meat,
cartilage and bones... oh... i go right down to the bone...
the moveable angle parts... not the long-staff parts...
just the "heads" of the bones...
   but chewing... in general...
   sit down... relax... ah... a chocolate smoothie!
a chocolate slush-puppy... ooze: Hamza!
   Hamza! bring in Ibrahim!
                              i'm already too tired with this
libido insomnia... i'm starting to think that...
the NIQAB is a good idea...
i'm seeing too much raw meat...
             and: it's not counter-intuitive...
i like the tease of form within the confines of tight
yoga pants... ***** like peaches...
but... when it's all in the outright open...
yawn... bore... there's a routine involved...
               exercise... aphrodisiacs of white wine...
     i tend to forget the batteries for a hard-on...
like: auto-,
           it's not mystery i thought;
hmm... let's bypass this cultural practices and go
for something... orthodox...
blacklisted... money on the table...
            hook up hook on you:
let's go fishing...
                     you're not into eating fish?!
not one of those Presbyterians?!
             by now... does... it even having to have
to matter?
           black boyos just leaving
a load of ketchup in their currency
of the current rap: sing-along...
              fudge-packing ego...
                    ha ha... idea being:
you send the same African hot-rods into Africa...
among Africans...
             the tribe leader... sold
your ancestors...
because: you weren't equipped
to run the marathon...
             yeah... but Dua Lipa is... Albanian...
what does it mean? it means:
she's not Russian...
                             party ******* central...
sure... hence: i party...
in the underground... because:
the overt-crowd of cultural presence
is... eh... sort... sort of boring...
                  rain's more exciting...
everyone acknowledges that trans-racialism
exists and that it's wrong...
i just need my licence...
to become the proper gorilla: bouncer...
to the point of: showing my knuckles and telling
someone: **** / kiss this.
Wednesday,
definitely midway through
the working week and
probably
not as bad as some would
have us believe.

Tubes.

suitcases, backpacks, carrier bags
and rucksacks,
and a mutiny of commuters.

Not many today
some must be away
on holiday.

It's colder than it was yesterday
but
it's earlier too.

I expect after Brexit
there'll be a hard border
between zone one and two
or maybe not.


Last thought for now.

When it should be a Friday
you know it's the kick,
Wednesday was made
to make you feel sick,
probably.
The entire plant can be consumed cooked or dried, brewed as tea, and applied to wounds and suspicious skin growths. Marijuana is the toughest natural fiber known. It's used to make clothing, purses, rucksacks, rope & twine. Marijuana, tincture of marijuana & marijuana oil abound in the cancer-killing vitamin B17.
the UMRAH: not the HAJJ... squeeze some melons for the Muslims of Pakistan: wonder upon wonder: so anti-climatic when people move up in hierarchies, while i'm still stuck talking about the disparity of quest: between the UMRAH and the HAJJ. i'd love to see Rome, having seen Venice...

and a girl who loves stones
  and such big ***
but beside the big *** and watermelon ****
i guess that if i stop ******* her
i'll get to talk to her and that's like BARCELONA
      HIM HI HI HIM HIM anti-dementia...


i don't man: i'm getting bummed out
completely bummed out
by the focus on me this great yawning
void on the train
just managed to play the commuter
chess right
and sat down after standing up for
12h
and this guy
this ginger blonde 70 year old
drunk or pretending started talking politics
and religion
and he said
i had better chances of being
a priest than a politician
and then he uttered those words: pointing
at others on the carriage:
then to me:
you're a "good man"...

am i, a man?
i feel in this ******* revolution
i'm a mind in a jar
and an ego of a pickle
in *****
i feel unsafe talking my mind
in England
i'd feel less paranoid in China
and Russia
talking about nothing
and God respectively

i am actually scarred, mentally:
i feel unsafe with the BIG ****
BRIGADE
desecrating the Rainbow:
i've seen a rainbow arch above
a soft prison in Kauai
when i was leaving her
to then be reunited with her...

watched some French **** today
and...
well also took a **** and ****
simultaneously
then had a baptism
in the shower
the plumber ****** up the veins
of the hydro channels
a2 aq
aqua

bromance...
Qais
he sneezed and i said bless
you then he replied
with: thank you
i had another Pakistani
in the classroom
who stunted the universe
and the classroom
when upon sneezing
his ISLAM was STRONG
upon sneezing
BLESS YOU
no reply...

  the ISLAM is STRONG with this ONE
a Muhammad Salmaan Khan...
one ****- to another -stani
i don't get it

then my "manager" got my cognitive
wrong
i had a flick-switch
innuendo:

i abhor:
people glad with life
what did the devil say:
T.S. Elliott: juvenile Sylvia
Plath but not the former...
reading poetry depresses me
i get into this melancholic mood
like a member of
my family is drool and doom
O
roll!
rolling O: oooooooooo

i have no time for a typewriter
and being an all female
cast of cinematic casters...
no sugar, baby, no sugar,
i just thought about the trinity
of kissing you while
also ******* you

i felt bummed out about not working
a Pearl Jam shift
and the whole traffic cone
work hierarchy dynamic
became an inflated
Collective-Ego courier Da-Sein postage stamp
: stamped:

the work dynamic i asked
if Lisa was there
but instead Quebec Romeo
and Quebec Yankee:
were there:
but over the radio no Quebec Sue and
Bravo: Gravitas: blue:
zone:
              muddle in my brain:
hence enforcing the cryptic:

   YHWH cf. not vs. LLH

    A E                         A A

and little serpent: a - little - serpent

but i just spent £40 on a Green Day t-shirt
i was not supposed to be
the man listening
to the commuter drunk Dutch:
a male primary school teacher
met his wife
in Glastonbury
festival
have a picture
of the girl's friend taking a photograph
before he walked up and
chatted her up
the Q: uestioner:
math prodigy:
a data analyst
currently unemployed
looking to become an AIRPLANE PILOT
where has my middle leg
of the dream-moth
of middle class in England gone to?

cordon 11:
alley of the Zig Zag
i hate working Wembley
externally:
air of Nepotism
i'd feel safer in China and Russia
right now...
the dogs are barking
and the birds are safe
from all the serpents they once
were: dodo: transition ERASING
TRANSISTOR
UNIT
process: like electricity:

insomnia bound daydreaming
of the purpose of night
to sleep

let me just catch the rhythm
again: no classical no flutes
air benders
just music working around a heart-beat...

taxidermy - oh wow! the correct
spelling: but what was the incorrect spelling?
daxidermi_                    maybe...

habibi UNK'L GANDU
i just want peace
i just want peace
but i know there will be a great upheaval
in that Classical Liberal Leftism
has failed
and it's so miserable to watch
a second
best hide the vowels?

nd t's msrbl wtch... that: took concentration
can speed up the process
in Hebrew among the gods
given that people
speak more two animals
than they do
to their own imaginings:
but were the gods ever so denegrated
desecrated in the Temple of Dyslexia
and girls learning to speak Arabic
but not understanding Arabic

i've only watched 2 matches from the Euros...
maybe i can get the athletes on my side:
project: hip: anti-hippy
i am sad because i bought a Green Day
t-shirt
i was supposed to buy a Pearl Jam
t-shirt for Martin, St. sort of cucumber
and amnesia
like all *** is gone
and there is only conversation:
how we lusted:
wasted:
wanted: waged wars
WARC and WARX
these crucifix incursions:

and look where that left us:
          
   BUT DO YOU N'TAKE
INSTRUCTIONS:
it's a ****** job i told the three black
youths:
i'm not rummaging: yes i am:
a sketch pad...
but i couldn't just:

help me out: dark cloud...

        some powerful with mind
in bed
better than sunshine and surf
and tongue on the glee tempting sea
all rot in sun and skin
performance ******...
  like people junkies esp young girls
i just don't under-
-stand
why get druggie with little peeps
but somehow discourage Reyla
from the bloom...

                        got bummed for buying
the Green Day t-shirt...
i don't even like then
but it had the dates of touring
and i was working
that terrible Green blacker
than the greenest courget
and i was talking to this West African
and about slavery
and island vs city life
and the unavailability of reference
cursors:
with people left behind:
scared of the world:
and STASIS and TIME

           and like i came over when i was 8
year old and
didn't know a tooth from tongue
in terms of speech:
ridiculed for P'UH M'AH
instead of PYOO M'AH...
and that still rubs when someone's
a no one telling you their yours of
the usage of tongue:

that: sends me: SKYROCKETING
that **** makes me summon DEMONS!
then i want as much
carnage in the world
to counteract the Buddhist perfection:
of concerning oneself
with the Oceans
Mountains
Deserts....

            forests and plateaus...
the wheat that is...
         are not my concern: a concern for the people:

Lyndon: you got the timing wrong!
i was about to take down
those rucksacks
when you weren't supposed to:
do a walk around...

    i just wanted to amass at least three
so that people would get "the idea":

prophets of June:
Qais reminded me
something i forgot:

Judaism is a religion of cosmopolitans
probably high achieving couples,
Christianity a religion of females
Islam a religion of males
Atheism and Buddhism
a religion of Eunuchs

i don't like what i write
i don't like what sometimes passes
through me: but like digestion
until improved the improvised
lactose intolerant
then...                        mmm'heh'heh...

       ­      to the echo of demons
gearing up for war...
              only war will salvage me
in the hyper-conscious realization
that life:
is:

                                       SPECIAL:
spatial: spazz:            

                                          **
­
leverage the time-spatial
and the space-temporal...

              as a coin flicker on the kicked
by thumb to flick and late fate:
decide: no rigid dualism:

just rigid, random: chance: fate
an unwilling: luck.

would have never thought that the gods became: also, so bored: with the intelligence of human life, that they would resort to being the Lesser Privy: and settle for gambling: so bored thus current upsurge of Psy Hack Understudy like the deviation from breeding Lawyers: this the breeding ground for Poetic Anti Journalistic Efforts...
           could it please be reminded:
not to look at me so weirdly:
when i'm at work
because i do my work elsewhere
and no manner or matter or hierarchy will
ever, disrupt: my origins of CONCERN:
which, unlike Heidegger: i mumble
because: covertly:

        NOT, CONTEMPT:
CONCERN:
        that's the whereabouts:
whoever thought Heidegger was X...
here's my: ******* nein nein nein
ADOLF ****** HEIDEGGER
SEIG HEIL!
i wil not live, under, the pressures,
of a, pseudo-democratic: GAY: FEAR!
PRIDE: up your ***...
and your *** alone...

               I WILL LIVE IN PEACE
AND QUIET
UNDER GOD AND NOTHING

i will live in peace in China
and in Russia
but i: will not!
live with peace in my heart!
in the western world-culture: ETC!
i have had...

                         ...enough.
well Bukowski and the drudgery of work
and Mathias Eshlert
and the arbeit macht frei of
work about
to cook chicken wings
    and make a potato salad with spring
greens
and radishes
and i remember a line from a movie
form the 1950s
how radishes were the supposed cause
of going mad
or rather not marrying a girl
because a witch cast her eyes
on the to-be-wed
i mean:

          at the Leeds vs Southampton
match a manager with no high viz
then you know you're dealing
with someone senior
(not important, senior, there's a distinction
at work,
there is no hierarchy as such
only tenure,
there needs to be a philosophy of work
and there really isn't a philosophy
of work
there are no philosophical works
concerning the philosophy of work
but you can mention
Heidegger's analogy of the hammer
in that there are these supposed
laborers who are working
and while working they talk about
philosophy

well currently the hot topic in the workforce
and we are talking a predominantly
male working environment there is talk
about history and esp post-colonial history
of the English
a talk of the English before the union
with the Welsh and the Scots
it's as if these former colonial subjects
think it is easy to find an English identity
from all the quashed qualms with
the Scots
and to be honest

i've seen father bring back construction
schematics
and read them

i finished writing the poem Alz Heinz
and decided to go and buy a bicycle
waited like a **** / a stump
at the bus stop for eternity and realised
with the fresh air hitting me...

yesterday this manager approached me
and gave me a bundle of A3 pages
crowd control schematics
which is a dynamic schematic
of colored dots
on construction schematics
and we're talking dynamics
given i was only in charge
of 3 guys to cordon bag restriction measures
and we weren't even drawn onto the schematic
there were the soft ticket checkers and their
two supervisors, roughly 30 of them
and there were the two response teams
and their supervisors but
there was no... SSE? that's code for EES
we weren't on the schematic
but i was given the schematic drawings
it's a dynamic affair
exposing the left hemisphere to such drawings
so with my right hemisphere
i turned the drawing into a dynamic
could call it spurring on a hallucination
or rather
i just heard of this theory of the brain
and its asymmetry only today
getting the blues from a day off
lying in bed
no i will not listen to the audible book

in the end father picked me up
and we sped to the shop
to flash cash
but instead got turned down
because only used bicycle can be ridden out
of shop not display bicycles
i truly felt like a ******
or perhaps this time is precious
and i shouldn't feel embarrassed to have
family perhaps there's this familial stigma
burn in the air of modern society
that you sometimes experience
the CRAB BUCKET...

         KRABBEIMER
    MISTEIMER...

              i was handed down a holy grail
no, of no importance
my neighbor came round and they chit chat
with mother
no the day is still not spent
but just refreshing the memory:
kept the memory it jolted me in the fresh air
should have kept the schematic memorandum

in the end i was supervising  four supervisors
an ego-trip now
when written
but an ego-destruction in live time
yesterday
negotiating with Leeds fans
and i managed to persuade people to throw
away their rucksacks
unprecedented when on gate 3
working with the quadrant manager
Marc "zee Frenchie"
i.e. i was tested for quadrant stature
on the east stand with the two staircases
if i were to be given both staircases
and Altantik Way
but just saying the fact that i was given
the schematics
it almost felt like i advanced
away from construction
but construction made alive
by people using venues post-construction
and these are no houses
we're talking about
but the two arguments that make my life
easier when dealing with rowdy customers
(of experience)
is that: you don't walk with a drunken
hard-on to argue and fight in a supermarket
so please excuse our staff from
dampening your little euphoric excursion
to watch a concert or a football match
never mind
i always thought that supposedly appreciating
any sport while intoxicated
is the ultimate debauchery
of spirit and of heart and the **** of fog of mind
because when it comes to utilizing
alcohol and **** i need
music and the capacity of literacy
a literate agency
a stress of not being a surgeon
an architect a werewolf or pirate
in the sexed-up mixocology of feminine hormones
of studying attractiveness levels
ugh that 1 - 10 scaling
like it's so ******* vague but so vogue
so distraught am i
ugh...

         12h standing the commute sit-down
doesn't help
i need to kneel to relax the shins
i need to kneel and write
idle hand's ******* jesus
or satan
last time i heard the devil appreciated
more the idle pleasure of typing
typo itchy fingertips
or if no itchy fingertips then
people biting their fingernails
last time i heard
keratin does not taste of carrot
and there is not carrot taste to be found
in biting nails
or ******* hair
although i must agree that i love
a little bit of hair just above the ****
maybe i'm old fashioned
but that's my sexuality
and i have had Ilona aged 20
when she was all happily shaved
but then i think about:

puff pastry, candyfloss
and the burrowing of the nose
in both hair then oyster of the *****
and then i remind myself of, only recently,
scratching myself till i bled on
the stubble that appeared with chin
after a 10 year tenure of Robinson Crusoe
although i must say
with some Turkish tailoring in the barber
category of aesthetics
but i do like some fluff just above
the **** i'm about to eat
and if Jesus was a Woman
i would have given an oyster to eat
instead of bread

    and Eidie this is a religious experience
to counter your "chirst":
cosmopolitan joke
choke i swear to god the apycryp...

nassfotze!                nassfotze!

i'm done with spelling this one word got away
i will keep it live
and abrupt
seriously there is no need to oblige the editorial
process this is not getting printed
but then printing was cheap
back around 900ad in Baghadad
i don't understand the European fascination
with firsts
that printing press was hardly revolutionary
but made so by the second christians
of Alexandria i.e. the Mongols in Baghdad
set us back over 1000 years
what a trip
thank you: so many people in Pakistan
have the surname Khan
like that was the Mongolian ***** deposit
that precipitated with the surname
that was once a title

Genghis probably Great Magnitude of Charlie
Can do what the **** i can
not-transliterated as Khan with the surd H
to give an almost diacritical emphasis
given its inclusion but overall silence...
the eyes see what the tongue is ought not speak
the eyes see what the tongue ought not speak
                     the eyes see what the tongue is not to speak...
wow wow wow what a strange word
this ought...

             oh jeez and Louise and i'm getting
all tremor enamored
all tremor enamored
30 messages no reply
finally i replied after three days of 12h hour
shin breaking shin straining
like torture
before kneeling and writing into the night
high puff no ****! and somehow i'm gone
like there was no magic act

oh how i'd wish for this earth to swallow me
how i've grown
and maybe understand women
through that little tickle
and then downing myself with *******
today i managed to **** a *****
from a ****
honestly i just tweaked my fingers
on a semi limp ****
and i ******* lazily into my underwear
and the stuff of life soon clotted
and all fluid glue associations shrunk
and it felt like the botanical world
of talking trees didn't realise
anything about the existence of mushrooms
and that fungus is not exactly
a botanical leech
parasite i mean a turnip is not a fungus
is not a mistletoe
is what i missed when towing mist and le
and ole
and it just needs to feel like a conversation
of consolations
and it can't just be a babe screetching
on the other end of the telephone
and me trying to compliment and reward her
face because that's what she's primarily
concerned with: her face
as i was somewhat too
because of my double chin
or whatever
and me using a beard as a contortion feature
not a tool
since the face uses it and not the hands
it can't be called a tool
but a feature
since the face like hands does many things
and it's the work of hefty
crowd management techniques
that disparage me from the service provided
at retail shops
where things are sold
yet but this is premeditated
i'm going to have a good time mentality
of spending money in advance
this industry concerns itself with
CREDITORS
and not DEBTORS
we entertain creditors -
not by how they spent the money
but how they spent the money in advance
to be there:
dasein - which is so far removed from what
Heidegger might have implied
in the airs of the Black Forest in complete
dissociation from throngs
and the bellows of Behemoth
o the pangs of the hundebeiarbeiten -
the talk of police dogs you have to see it
the talk of police horses you have to see it
up close and personal
and you have to **** the ego and experience
of the body of id in all its glory
constipated, tired, hungry, wet, cold,
hot, angry, stupid, angry, stupid
you have to shut off all narrative
and so many people in this Wembley-Mecca
this trance like mantra of a h'um dl'um
ah'um dl'um -
indeed that apostrophe could be indeed judged
as the letter Y'od
             Yyod                  why-yod of the wide ought
and then hide the letters GH
and instead OH'T...
         like you write the letters but hide their sounds
in Gloucester
asked me this guy Andrews
who works with the Nigerian Sunday
(his name, Monday Monday,
literary scene had a Friday)
Andrews is Ghanaian
and he's fresh
i mean he's not what one could call
descended from slaves
honestly you get to pick up
the African original the african original
pride and love for life
not this stench of post-colonial dread
of: jeez still living with these former slave owners
and ooh come on why didn't
we go back to Africa
and why are the old Africans coming to Europe
to tease us or whatever
spiraling with stadium concerts calling for
Africa Unite blah blah semi Black ******
also comes with Black Jesus...
don't ask me how but honestly Black Jesus
comes with Black ******...

Abu Dribble i feel like escaping into naked
lunch rather not fascination with Arab historiology
from the 10th century
or a German thinker...
although i must know that if dog in german is hund
pies in ******
then horse in english a koń in polish
means horse in german is...herseh?
           no... the diacritical mark doesn't help
no room for transliteration like
in semitic languages
between 'rab and                                        Heb'

what is horse in german? d'uh!

pferdbeiarbeiten...

            not the sort of horses i swear are we the last
people to work as humans with animals
are we the last stronghold
we are not Bukowski genius to drink and read
sparingly the postman
i mean we are not farmers because farmers
no longer use animals
to work
instead
i mean: are we the last professions on this planet
to work with animals
i love working with animals
so much so that i'm petting one on the side
if i were to take a cat into the life cycle
of a dog or a horse
we breed these animals for a purpose

have you ever worked with horses
and dogs
in a crowd management environment
it's like double the high
of being high at a concert
when you come back from work and unwind
and have the side project to write
down everything bubbling to the boil in your
head your ego-death
and then the ego-resurrection
with a concentrated focus on narrative
that requires it to be written down
rather than aired / thought

and then release like a sling with no shot
just the snap of the sling
against the skin to wake up

KREISEL

  kreisel...

          spinning top is not even a word...
it's a worded ideogram...
without an actual ideogram
SPNNNGTP   looks better...
best to have that printed and framed
and advertised...

       Bączek...  well then... my neighbour
brought me one of those in a 50p
bag of goodies...
there was that and there was blowing
bubble machinery
i don't know does she think me *******
or happy or did i come to the fore
of children at large events and
i was authority and i was benevolence
and i'm still thinking of the jobs
that make humans interact with animals
and i know it's not in farming
as such especially when pig farming
i mean farming with plow and not plough
or maybe the two are not that far apart
because this is not the sort of euphoria
experienced at an event
this is a private euphoria
and not simply of just being there...
i.e. the opposite of Dasein
the opposite of Dasein is Seinda -
being there i.e. a place an event a polity
a necropolis is by far the best strain
flex and then thrown into this disarray
   of fates and omens and ills of people since now
even these people venture out
in the full abode of sky... wheelchairs and scissors
and schizoids...

i said i need to write this is not a novel
if anything this is also not Zukofsky's A
because by god that looks good
on paper but not in that voice
              since i'm thinking that's the last masquerade
but still the impetus to write
and why not record with Charlie but then
Charlie etc was also in the same circumstance
as me or then
sober does it: great parody of the formal
                    in whatever order of magnitude -
yes those wax eyes wore
off and then night came and i toked some more
and not to excess in drinking i obeyed
t.v. rules for half an hour
but then the show was so disastrous
that the only thing i was looking at was
laila rouass
   and thinking of my woman and yes he's 48
and she's 52
and i'm pretty sure Edie wants to make
it adamantly so
that there's that tease of *******
in that she's 55 and i'm 38 and she's still not sure
what
in what the hell would that mean
when the ages shrink
and then there's also the age disparity
between the other forbidden love of necrophilia
and that's not really as prominent
in society as *******
                                         well who knows
the statistics show...

                             but at least now: silence...
i have not given excuses but
pointers as to what i also do: alias no alias
persona non grata
                                should i fly above the aqua politik -
sieve through
this spectacular advent of man
this spectacular celebration
because honest to god and winter months apart
there is this air of celebration in man
with the obvious hags and anchors
and drags from the past but still the perserverence
is there to mindlessly go forward
without any static of but one universe
instead so many others to come
should this only be one experience
i doubt there might be more
with brain-deaths and heartaches
                          
                                      brain-labyrinths
and loud-libraries
                          or those pirates -
the pigeons at Baker Street...
some travel as far as Amersham
and Chesham on the Metropolitan Line
for their holidays from the city
you can see them on the trains anchored
coming into the carriages looking for
pecking orders...
and then as the train speeds on tracks
they fly about less
like bothersome flies
but as frightened animals: that they are...

                  and we are not?
Trevor Reynolds Aug 2020
They threw their kit bags on their shoulders
And headed for the nearest station.
Nine weeks of basic military training
Boot camp, was their chosen destination.
Six young men, from one small town
Who'd grown up to be, more like brothers.
Headed off with their heads held high
So proud of themselves and each other.
Later that year with a three-day pass
They headed back home overjoyed.
Their family's joy then turned to concern
When they told them, that they'd been deployed.
With courage and pride, they went off to fight
After first wishing each other well.
But none of them knew what war was really like
Although it fitted their vision of hell.
When the final battle ended and unable to tell
Who, the winners or losers had been.
The wounded were tended, they recovered their dead
But the scars in their minds were unseen.
Discharged without thought, of what happens now
They returned to the home they once knew.
But unlike before, when those six marched to war
Their number had been reduced by two.
Those six brave young men, hadn't known back then
When they packed all their gear in rucksacks.
History doesn't care, how many marched away
What matters, is how many came back.

— The End —