En soms in die vroee oggend ure **** ek steeds jou stem...
wanneer ek sukkel om te slaap,
                                                                ­                                 maar my lyf deuretrek is van moegheid
                                         , voel ek nog jou sagte aanraking.

Dan ***** jy by my soos die neurie van 'n lang vergete wiegelied in die agterkop,
                                                       ­              of
die weergalming van ons gegillende stemme deur die lang gange van die lewe...

dis dan wanneer die hartseer my tref.
Dit vul die    l e e m t e s     wat gelaat is deur die    s p a s i e s     waar jou vingers altyd so
                perfek
                             In myne gepas het,

in die dooie gevoel,
oor al die plekke waar net jou aanraking
                           soms
genoeg was om elektrisiteit op te wek
                                    wat my nog vir weke speelvol geprikkel het.

Dan vorm dit saam in die [kamers] van my hart,
     waar jou n.a.a.m,
                                    jou < liefde 3
                                                         en jou ~legende*
vir altyd sal bly

... en stroom deur die vensters van my siel...
sodat ek weer 'n gesonde uitkyk op die lewe kan he.

Soos 'n magtige rivier
     loop dit by al die voue af,

       maar altyd met grasie...
en ek huil

Ek was die Suid Weste wind
wat jou wintermaande bring
, jou skimme van diepsee inwaai
om jou land ontsuimig te laat.

Ek was die ysige hand
wat jou sagte vlees knyp
en nakend onder my sagte streling
laat vries in die kou en sy ryp.

Die onaardse storm van skadu's
wat sonder ophou jou
uit jou midnag sliuimer ruk
as ek soos n besetene
in die vroegoggend aan jou deur kom pluk.

Watter vors sou jy, ag
tsja ~ so nietig
teen my kon inrig
*** sou jy kon staan
as ek my volle wendings op jou rig?

*** naief was ek om teen
jou te hammer en myself
keur op keur teen jou vas te gooi
, waar jy onomwonde staan.

Jy ~ vind ek ook toe uit~
die tafelberg van my ou bestaan.

**** jy die **** van yster-gordyn wat val en die aarde omhels ten laaste sy afwaartse versnelling.

Dit maak seer mamma...

Gewere word neergelê as ń universiële teken van hoop en vrede , maar verlang na ń lid van die geledere.

Dit maak seer mamma...

Ons was almal naïef; in ons drome was daar plek vir twee,
Ń eindelose see waar ons kon wegvaar van die ontbindinde spoke van gister, waar ons ons hande in soutwater-poele kon was iewers langs die kus van versoening...

Dit maak seer...

Niemand sou kon raai dat die jare se snellertrek en loopgraaf grawwe jou eens sagte vel kon magnetiseer nie... *** kon ek voorsien dat jy ń bietjie van die geweld gaan steel het om vir jouself te hou nie. *** sou ek weet dat jou vingers jeuk sonder die dooie staal wat dit streel nie...

Een skoot
Twee skote
Drie skote
Ń eenman vuurpelaton reën op my neer en dring deur my ope arms...
Jy het nog altyd ń plek in my hart gehad, maar nou het jy dit beset met lood en alle onskuld uitgerook met brandende kruit...

Dit maak seer...

Dele van jou hang nog swaar op al die plekke wat saakmaak en seermaak en trek my af grond toe...

Eina...

Liefde ek het altyd geweet ons het mekaar se ruë gehad... ek hey net nie geweet jy was besig om ń rooi kruis vir jou fissier op myne te verf nie...

Dit maak seer mamma...
Koebaai

A bilingual "Barry Hodges" poem!

Ah, beloved Dachau!
Thou delightful Bavarian city of charm,
History has made thy name immortal
Yet cruel warfare has passed you by.
Thank God thy medieval streets and squares
Remain untouched by high explosives.

I took a lovely young maid there
For a weekend of rampant love,
But, after an immense meal of pork chops,
Sauerkraut, Blutwurst and Bratkartoffeln,
Her stomach exploded like a grenade
And her gorgeous body was ruined.

How cruel is life in our modern world!
As I sat weeping in the Pension Eichmann,
Looking through the contents of her wallet,
I decided to pay her a fitting tribute
By buying a night with the fat chambermaid,
Who swore she was you-know-who's ******* great-granddaughter.

O great joy, she said, since it was the low season in Dachau,
We would be joined by her bony bulimic friend Angelika
(Himmler's great-niece), two mouthfuls for the price of one,
Thanks be to God, it was the just right time of the month
For such a cosy little *******, because although I love raw meat
I am less keen on it being oozing blood, so ******* vampires.

And now for the German version!*

Ach, geliebte Dachau!
Du schöne bayerische Stadt mit Charme,
Die Geschichte hat deinen Namen unsterblich gemacht
Unt grausame Kriegsführung hat umgangen werden Sie.
Gott sei Dank, dein mittelalterlichen Straßen und Plätzen
unberührt von hochexplosiven Sprengstoffen zu bleiben.

Ich lockte ein schönes junges Mädchen dort
Für ein Wochenende der grassierenden Liebe,
Aber nach einer gigantische Mahlzeit von Schweinekoteletts,
Sauerkraut, Blutwurst und Bratkartoffeln,
Ihr Bauch explodierte wie eine Granate
Und ihre wunderschönen Körper ruiniert war!

Wie unfreundlich ist das Leben in unserer modernen Welt!
Wie ich in der Pension Eichmann weinend saß,
Beim Blick durch den Inhalt ihrer Geldbörse,
Ich entschloss mich, ihr ein passender Tribut machen
Mit dem Kauf einer Nacht mit dem großen Zimmermädchen -
Sie hat geschworen, war der illegitime Ur-Enkelin des Eichmann.

O große Freude, sagte sie. In der Nebensaison Dachau,
Wir würden uns von ihrer Freundin Angelika (Himmlers Großnichte),
Verbunden werden, zwei Bissen für den Preis von einem,
Gott sei Dank, war es die richtigen Tage im Monat
Für solch einen gemütlichen kleinen Orgie, denn obwohl ich liebe Fleisch
Ich bin weniger daran interessiert, wenn es Blut sickert. Vampire raus!

'n lewe in konstruksie...
dis tog die mees logiese manier om dit te beskryf...
ons bou en bou en bou,
en toets dan die produk.

Maar aan die einde, as ons klaar gebou het...
wat is dan daarvan te kom.
                        'n Lee huis...
                                       'n stil pad...

en wat het ons van onself geleer?

En wat leer ons van die wereld en mense om ons
             , vasgevang in die stryd teen tyd...

niks nie.

Ons het net voor onself uitgekyk
                   na die vaal stene
                                   en die slukkerige sement.

Watter vreugde het dit vir ons gebring.

Niks nie.

Nee,
         ek weier.

Ons is tog hier geplaas met vrye wil.

En iewers langs die pad,
                                          raak almal die pad duister...
en word dan deur die samelewing verdoem.

Die mensdom besluit dan wat van hulle sal word...
In daardie oomblikke is God meer vergete
deur die skares wat saamdrom op die rand van die pad...
                                                                ­                                      die wat lag en vinger wys...
                                                                ­                                                      die wat klippe gooi,
                                                         as deur die wat die prentjie aanskou.

Soms kort ons 'n perspektief van uit die donker,
                          om die lig rerig te verstaan...

Soms moet ons eers die genadelose aanraking van die koue voel,
                           voordat ons die sagte streel van die son oor ons gesigte kan waardeur.

Daar le wysheid in die donker,
                                      want dit is in die donker waar jy aleen is,

                         met niemand om in jou oor te fluister wat reg of verkeerd is nie.

                                                                ­                                                      Net die wind om jou siel te sus,
                                                                ­                                               die stilte om jou uit te rus...

                                                 en niemand wat jou god kan wees
                                       of sy woorde
                                                          ­      en planne
                                                                ­                   vir jou kan uitmessel nie.

Die pad het die gevaar geraak.

Dis koud en korrupt.
                                     En ons is dankbaar,
         dat ons die kans gekry het om dit te sien,
terwyl ons stadig verswelg word deur die skadu's
                                                                ­                                             en wegsmelt in die donker...

want nou weet ons dat ons pyn maar net 'n gedeelte van die werklike hartseer was...

                                                               ­ ons is die gelukkiges...

en hulle loop op die pad na verdoemtenis

moncler herren jacken frauen und Uhren als Statussymbol für Rolex Oyster Perpetual Frauen kamen Anzeichen von Moncler Jacke Luxus in einer Vielzahl von Formen Moncler Jacken YSL Handtaschen Hermes Schals Jimmy Choos oder Manolo Blahniks im Gange ein Tiffany Armband oder Diamant-Halskette Anzeichen billig Moncler Status und Macht. Nicht nur sie sind geeignet für die Chefetage Moncler Zürich sind sie weniger auffällig als viele Stücke von Moncler Outlet Schmuck und vielleicht mehr Rolex Oyster Perpetual passend in diesen wirtschaftlichen Zeiten in denen Uhren sind nicht nur ein Zeichen von Moncler Luxus sondern ein funktionales Werkzeug sowie . Hat die Preise auf außergewöhnliche Ebenen angetrieben..

 http://www.joannaknowsomething.com/moncler-damen/moncler-damen-jacken.html sagte Reis. Durchgemacht acht oder neun Operationen jetzt. Er hat von Moncler jacketsf worden kritische [Bedingung] und wurde heruntergefahren damit ernsthafte Erkrankung verschoben. Dann legen Sie das Leder Moncler Frauen Jacke auf das Bügelbrett dafür dass die Falten nach oben zeigen. Die feuchten Tuch sollte oben auf moncler Verkauf die Falten gelegt werden. Dieses Tuch schützt Ihre Moncler Damenjacke so dass es nicht durch das heiße Eisen versengt.

Ich war 12 Jahre Coaching Basketball im ganzen Land bis ich die Gelegenheit meine erste Kopf Varsity Trainerjob bei Tamarac ohne jemals einen großen Stammbaum wie einige andere bekommen gegeben wurde. Am Eröffnungsabend von Moncler Herren meinen ersten Varsity Spiel werde ich nie vergessen die Elektrizität in der Harry Tucker Gym wie wir Chatham verärgert auf George Mardigan Court dank einer Karriere hoch 37 Punkte von Ethan Estabrooks und 27 von Ben Cuprill die das Spiel gespielt mit einem gebrochenen Fuß. Unser Rückraum erzielte 64 von Moncler Daunenjacken unsere 72 Punkte in dieser Nacht und dabei gab mir meinen ersten Sieg.

Die Aufgabe: Erstellen Sie einen originellen Stil von Moncler Jacke Kleidung für die Kombination von Technologie und Mode für tragbare Technologie gadgetfriendly Kleidung. Gab jedem Team ein $ 5.000 Kreditkarte um die Gadgets kaufen. Das Siegerteam würde derjenige der die meisten überzeugende Präsentation erstellt wie durch zwei American Eagle executives.Magna gewann erneut mit tollen Ideen und einem wellexecuted Präsentation beurteilt werden.

Die Pulver die ich aufgeführt sind leicht zugänglich so dass ich sie verwendet. Es gibt auch andere feine Pulver von Accurate Arms and Norma. Lädt Techniken sind ziemlich Standard aber wenn Sie zu Fall Leben Kopfraum es auf die Schulter zu maximieren um das Band im Gegensatz wollen. Die klassischen Tweed und Flanell sind Wollstoffe aber sie sind in der Regel schwerer als viele moncler die italienischen und anderen europäischen Kammgarne die im Allgemeinen von den meisten Herren Moncler Frauen Mode werden bevorzugt. Generell kann die Stoff-Konten für onethird zu OneHalf von Moncler Frauen die Herstellungskosten und in den Kauf einer Klage ist es so wichtig auf die Qualität der billig Moncler das Gewebe aus als es das Label oder Modedesign ist. Ein guter Stoff sieht *****.

Die Produkte die gemacht worden sind können von Moncler Mantel guter Qualität sein und Ihre Marke ist zusätzlich seriös. Diese Uhren können auf der ganzen Welt verschickt werden und Sie don brauchen um über die Zufriedenheit immer verringert stören. Reputation ist von Moncler jacketten eine große Sache in Bezug auf ein Unternehmen. Der beste Rat Die Homepagehier den ich an die Eltern die erwägen die Einschreibung sind ihre Kinder in eine der Moncler Daunenjacken diese Programme geben kann ist treten Sie zurück und machen Sie einen distanzierten Blick von Moncler Daunenjacke was los ist. Stellen Sie sich vor dass anstelle von Moncler menschliche Kinder sah man Welpen und Kätzchen an ähnlichen Behandlung unterzogen. Würden Sie sofort die Tierschutzverein?.
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Vanaand vou ek my snoesig toe
                                                                          in die soet-droom blou lug
iewers tussen die maan en die sterre...

                                                                        en as die liggies  my pla
                                   trek ek weer, soos kleintyd, die duvet oor my kop
                                                                                                    en verbeel myself dat
                                                                                                 jy
                                                             en jou honger hande
                             nie in die werled bestaan nie!!

                                                                                                                    Ek kruip dan in die sagte plekkies
                                                                                                                van ontstuimige oseane...
                                                                                                                             so tussen deur die nate van
                                                                                                   die brekende golwe...
                                                                                           en le terug as die trek
                                                                                                            van moegheid my kom haal...
                                                                                                                        en terwyl die vloeiende satyn
                                                                                                                                     my wange streel...

                                     maak ek my oe toe
                          en glimlag

die buckligengel sagte so:

what is most appealing
about outer-suburban
landscapes of england?
perched on a windowsill -
with only one eye open,
the other closed,
         listening to germanic,
or scandinavian folk songs.
das ist dat, alter?
                   das ist alle.
lassen die schlange
        zu spirale, zu rassel;
  so ich macht haben mein
           andere auge zurück.
a will built upon a hunch?
aye! we heard of these
gamblers!
         thrill seekers, shackle
stormers...
                  for if i had a fortune
of my own,
i'd be the ****** one,
but in terms of poker politics:
i fold.

Vandag vloek-groet ek die verlede
en spuug die suur naam uit
en rig ek al my groot gebede
om gistergoed ook weg te smyt

Maar koester ek die kleine vrees
in die diepste van my hart
sal more net soos gister wees
breek die ook van die smart

en deel ek in vertroulikheid
my woordsopregte eed
as more soos 'n spiel wil lyk
sal dood my uit ellende sleep

Tog, mik ek vir die kruine
- droom my silwer droom
,  vermy vergete pyne
van 'n toekoms palindroom.

Want as my lepel andersom
dieselfde as tevore lyk
wees jy ook nie te verstom
as ek na sagte doodsoen reik.

Rook hom uit met
Silwer linte teer
En nikotien
Smoor hom in
ń bredie van
alkahol en kaffiën
Sny hom uit
Met skêr of lem
Verdoof met dwelms
Die bose gees se stem...

Hy krap swaar laserasies
Wat tierstrepe verf
Oor die sagte weefsel
Van my hoof organe
En spring tussen
Sinapse totdat
Impuls ń inhirente
Sindroom word...

Skree. Hy skree. Hy SKREE.
Krap en skree en brand,
Hy brand .... HY BRAND

So Rook hom uit met
Marlboro red
En black mix
Smoor hom in
ń vat van
Russian bear en red bull
Sny hom uit
Met ń dokter se lem
Snuif hom uit in lyntjies
Dis te veel, sy donnerse stem
...

My klein Ouma
smeer haar liefde
soos botter

Sy smeer van kant tot kant
en gee liefde orals,
wat langsaam versmelt in die deug
van haar sagte brood

My klein Ouma se liefde
vul al die gate in die warm brood

“Niks is beter as brood nie”
Is wat Ouma altyd se

En tog, is sy verbasend klein …
Sy eet net die krummels
en gee vir ander
haar gebotterde brood
so gesond
so lekker

My klein Ouma
Vol liefde gesmeer

My liefste mens
My beminde
Jy.

Jy is n meesterstuk.
Jy is digkuns, jy is melodie
Jy is ink en papier en woorde
Jy is n kaleidoskoop in anatomie.

Jou mond is my kompas
As my kop verdwaal
Gerroes en deur die wind verweer
Kan jou sagte woorde my veilig laat huistoe terugkeer.
Jou hare, watervalle oor die skatkamers
Waar ek my geheime neerle
Van fluisters in die donker
Tot hardop liefde opse.

Dat ek myself aan jou mag gee
My swaar, my lig, my heimwee
My gister, my more, my vandag.
My geslote deure, my trane, my glimlag.

Jou hande is sleutels wat my kamers oopsluit
En oor my gly soos water oor rante
Om hoeke om draaie
My sirkels, my vierkante
My donker steugies en oop plaaspaaie.

Jou oe is die verlede, die toekoms en nou
En as jy lag sien ek padkaarte in hulle oopvou
Wat lei na orals en nerens
Na die sterre
En na onthou.

Jou bors is my vesting.
My kaggel, my lig, my beskerming
Waar ek veilig my hart kan hou
Om saam met jou dans
Op die ritme van vetrou.

My liefste mens, my beminde
Jy is sterre oe en oop-oog droom
Jou glimlag breek, vee weg en maak skoon.
Jy maak die storm in my rustig.
Jy is die vrede na die reen...
Jy is my virewig

.in a land, where, ahem, "supposedly"... the one eyed man leads the blind? that oeuvre proclaimation? hard to... give the one-eyed the mastering of the people, who can see, no? as the one eye-man said, son of Odin... the two eyed are as blind as the no-eyed, in that they cross their eyes, and imagine themselves drowning... i see a serpent... without eyelids... perpetuated spine of lizard, cranium of cold, venom... the hebrew didn't exact... "justice" by ensuring the lizard to be left, wriggling, spine-esque, without attachment of limbs... no... the real torture? the torture that Moses didn't speak of? why, why oh why, did he leave the serpent without eye-lids?! i ask, because a mammal, a bonsai tiger is playing the role of a bassett hound, he's a maine ****... and he, for some, reason, enjoys my company... the fact that the "devil" lost his limbs... i'm not here for that... i'm here for the fact that serpents... spine and cranium remnants of dinosaurs... have, "apparently"... "lost" their eye-lids... imagine the agony... of falling asleep with your eyes open! sympathy for the devil? well... is there really any sympathy for a god or the gods? beside the point... ever since i was born... for all the creativity of the h'american people, their primitive christianity was perpetually sentenced to be abhorrent for me... i could never stomach it... that being said: so what their atheism. i could never stomach either side of the argument... at least with the russians you were told to settle for the kazakhs, those pseudo-Mongols... then, those, intermediate mouth-offs of the english... it's like a dog dies, but you can never get the fleas off of a dead dog! they keep on biting, trying to "revive" *******, akin to 20th century's 1960s zenith, "property allowance of dictum". let me just say... how god cursed Satan... to be left without limbs... is how he cursed... the fact... that dinosaurs, "once upon a time", ruled this orb... limbless sidewinding spines and brains? that's not the real... "pardon", for the emergence of man... do snakes have eyelids? i'm pretty ******* sure they don't. big tigers... tigers and lions... what about the domesticated bonsai tigers? last time i checked... big cats... tigers... lions... they had eyes... that resembled mammals... their pupils dilated, or contracted... cats? the bonsai? why do their pupils resemble lizards? ******* spies! leather in furrs! what's that old christian metaphor of wolves in sheep clothing? that's it, isn't it? well... here's a ******* update: lizard leather in bonsai ***** furrs! i keep having these blinking matches... with my maine *****... yes... the basset hounds of the feline kingdom... blinking matches, wavering: staring contests... the poverty of the metaphor poetics of Moses is finally revealed... you trust your cat? sure as **** your cat's eyes do not dilate or contract like a tiger's or a lion's might... there's a ******* lizard spy in that cranium of their, "cute"-ness... i'm pretty sure the eyes of a tiger, or a lion, become O from o... regarding the pupil... and not O from ()... slit. again... the biggest curse of the "devil" (dinosaurs) was... to craft a slithering pickle jar of a lizard's worth of a weaving spine and a brain cell? or, the fact, that, serpents do not have eyelids?! that they have to black out to craft a pair of eyelids? that they have to binge... and the reason why they ingest a whole body, is so that they can digest a whole body in order to fall asleep, with their eyes, open? i have just left, whatever was the worth of the poetics, associated with Moses' genesis... some **** ***** can play around with a serpent for all i care... i just need to hear a sssssssss sound in my head... find a cat sleeping in my bed... and say: those eyes are not big cat's eyes... they change from mammalian through to lizard... cats are dinosaurs' spies; and no, the curse of leaving a serpent without limbs... which explains the ******* crocodile... the komodo dragon... i'm worried that "god" took a snippet of the eyelids of the serpents... the "retrospective" lab. specimen of the remains of the dino. inquiry into the past of this, orb.

o.k., so i integrated, now what?
can the anglophone world
put away its ******* of giving
everyone a fair chance when that
supposed "fair" chance is
a neurotic take on not being "racist"?
what, a, load, of, *******:
  and pastoral ****-heaps of oops -
i should have migrated in my
teenage years and kept my
diacritical exfoliation,
       the distinction by accent if not
by colour... but i'm sure you're
well aware that the oliwki -
i just call the ******* olives -
              have a joker card of the obviousness:
i.e. like ******* are descendent
of an eskimo...
                 today is the first night
of night frost...
     metal is hit first,
the cement paparazzis are not yet
economised -
                        and i find it a waste of a day
in winter if i see sunlight...
    so i go back to bed:
the plan was always:
go to sleep in the night,
wake up when it's night.
           i'm not buying it...
              but i should have really
misguided by efforts in learning this,
god-forsaken tongue,
imperfected it, rather than perfected it,
retained the: free meal ticket of
the ******* accent and then scream
when the opportunity came: racism!
racism!
                  easier if i were olive
skinned...
                free rides like that don't come
so often...
         the english have become
neurotic beyond compensation!
      i'm not nervous about being called
a racist or a ****... call me that enough
times and then a lightbulb moment
will, happen... problem is:
i'll embrace that stereotype with as much
gentlemanly airs and "concern" that
will only be made for the opposite
party to not distinguish politeness from,
ridicule...
              no no,
these people will not be riddles -
they'll be ridiculed, a massive difference.
i sometimes regret learning the english
language to establish myself by the native
standard of talk,
  because once you've attained that:
then what?
     you already have a meritocracy that's
build upon: what's best representative
of your multiculturalism -
apparently the whites don't distinguish
other whites...
                    as it is clearly seen:
christianity taught the nebulous blood-thirty
barbarians a culture of masochism...
            it's actually painful to hear
a german speak, less painful speaking
german yourself...
       herr... wachsen einige hoden, bitte!
danke.
           it just looks like watching a boxer
in match wearing a ******* tutu.

    willkommen! zu aufpassen:
                    die zeit zu kommen sie!
*****-brute-deutsche...
    hündin-brachial-ßaß!
           ­      ich: jawohl!
                                  
   you want to punch: you better want
to punch high, on the head...
for the... ******* concussion
    (die gehirnerschütterung...
guess what... no trenches for you...
chemical nouns!
  ficken feen paddy kobolde -
    glücklich?!)

there has never come a time,
similar to this,
when a ******, a polen...
would, love, the deutzsche-zunge
as much, as he might love it now...
weird... seltsam...
                gott, mit uns!

memories of my grandfather's plea:
herr! bitte bon-bon!
         before the soviets came
and decided to sleep with the goats...
kommen auf ein metallurgiefamilieanfänge
(carbohydrate enough for you,
mrs. khan?!)
          what is it with me and the allure
toward the german tongue,
away from zee Ęnglisch?!

       i have an idea, or, two...
so many pakistanis with khan
as their surname...
it almost makes you, "wonder"...
islam blah blah this,
islam blah blah that...
       a lot of pakistanis with
mongolian surnames...
       time to find the wound...
time to find the salt..
  don't you think?
     oh: nicht bitter...
                       wirklichkeit... prüfen,
eh?
                i can't, or rather,
i don't have the energy to hate,
or remind the saxons,
their misdeeds...
              ich bin müde!
                i am, tired...
    see? no diacritical marks,
i have to make up the "loss" with
punctuation markers...
                            kennt ihre nachbar!
liebe? liebe?!
                   kennt ihre nachbar
            wie dich selbst!
liebe?! ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
sagte die eifersüchtig gott...
liebe?
                how about: know your neighbour
as yourself...
      the command, love your neighbour
as yourself... can we leave that sort of *******
to petting cats and pigeons?!
i rather know my neighbour as i
might know myself...
        love is never a part of the golden rule
of universal application...
  love is a futility of diminished
senses...
       i rather know my neighbour,
than love him,
as much as as i rather know myself,
than love myself.

so when's the next *******' worth
of riddles going to come from?
   palestine...
  look, i've already exhausted the "jewish q.",
i'm tired of jewish wisdom...
what's next: the arab pandora's box?
great!
    mind you... it's so nice to see
the yews the yids, the 'ebrews
making fwends with the arabs again...
hell: goat herder met another goat
herder...
       which leaves the argentinian
neo-nazis with the beef!
            and some of us:
with leather shoes, belts...
                 jackets... and... bacon!

god bless... this wonderful world!

ich würde, vielmehr: schreiben
etwas deutsche:
graswurzel, das ja!
the ******* need more you
ponce of a mongrel saxon!
better deutscheland grammar?
we had our "solistice"
time-out... welcome tomorrow...
no point leaving
a workaholic out for no
apparent reason: best bet?
"look busy"... ******* furlong's
worth of "short"...

jump that! y'ah ******* dwarf
bridge-gap brigade!
der hobbitenvolk ar kommen!
der hobbitenvolk ar kommen!
nicht die kirschemäntel... aber!
noch die "unerwartet":
zeppelinpumpernickelhoppla!
- why am i bound to the scotch
nationalists? oh... i lived among them
for over three years...
the celtic remants...
perhaps edinburgh would be
the new dublin...

christmas... it's such a german "ting"
like... that irish celtic tad woz
zee timez... C'U... C'U... no...
no L8ER...

but i managed! everything i served on
the plate and placed on a table...
the oven-cooked tatties...
the parsley snippets...
the carrots... the garlic...
the peppers... the red onions...

what the **** am i celebrating,
now? i'm pretty sure, that,
whatever it was... will fizzle out
come post-christmas hangover of a tomorrow...

and a buckling-load-of-****-of-europe...
the same islander "english" mentality...
euro-trash continent...
this... belly-button of the world
english mentality...
you wouldn't suspect it among
the welsh, the irish, the scotch...

perhaps the united kingdom can become...
the next yugoslavia under charles the III...
does he keep his name?
does he? London is long gone...
just as Danzig was long gone...
when Venice wrote the blueprints...
an ancient folklore of a city state...

******* just interrupted something...
no... it wasn't the Royal Ascot...
the horses, ran, ran and buckled...
broke some legs and not being able
to fall asleep standing: were put down...
the greengrocers of betting had their harvest...

we'll still have the top hats,
the champagne "socialism"... the CLASS...
oh you have to remember the CLASS / CASTE
pseudo-hindu "oops"...
england will still be...
what scotland and wales could be...
the less timid bits and pieces of...
what could probably hang in the air
as the new yugoslavia...

"problem" being... it's an island...
it's unlike iceland...
and it's quiet unlike new zealand or...
or... japan...
it's... when...
alt vati pommerschen...
flüsterte in der kinderwagen
auf sachsen, und sagte...

the ******* think you're going?
******* yew-tree quasi-nomad
of germania? you're an imitation
hebrew... or you're...
you're not a: bayerischverwandtschaft?

as yes, christmas only makes sense
now... drinking from the amber spring
of the baltic...
some scotch runes in: mash-up...
easy, easy...

i can use this, acquired, language...
but i know the ******* will have their Ascot...
die sächsischweg...
ants-in-their-pants...
and now "they" think they're settled...
post-colonial imperialism bound
to a nationalist revival...
so much for having no nostalgia...
akin to...

the battle of Tannenberg 1410 -
the date 680 by St. Wilfrid...
such a date... a northern crusade against
the last pagans of europe:
the lithuanians... **** me, i don't need
to paint... the lithuanians and the other
baltic folk... whatever the hell became of
the prussians: who weren't exactly treated
as germans by the teutonic collective...

oh i'll sing the carol songs...
i'll sing the crusader songs... hey! pronto!
i'll sing that... baby jesus doesn't really do it for me...
i'll go and visit Catalonia where
the name Jesus is diffused...
ends up a hey-zeus construct...
a H'ezeus etc.... and the party is over...

but i could celebrate christmas...
if it was in german...
i don't know why... perhaps it's riddling
a masochism remains with teasing
the whole: "wunderbar"?

better still... when europe is cited...
there's that black-hole europe...
there's that... cindarella of europe...
that "missing link"...
between what the balkans served up
in the 1990s... the collapse of the soviety union...
how the 2008 economic crash didn't really
affect this region...
von unter die eisenvorhang...

island people: shire folk...
hobbits... you know the sort...
very idiosyncratic...
one minute a russophobe...
next minute... exotica of the siberian ooh!
aah! i have lived on these isles for...
it's not worth stating:
a better part of my life...
but i have lived... among...
the scots, the irish...
i teased the welsh...
and in London? the tower of babel came...
come to think of it...
the english have sort of reacted like
vermin... you rarely see them...
perhaps in oxford...
of ****... pakistani **** gang there too...

my bet is... elizabeth is "dying":
no she's not... seen that ***** on roller-skates?
seen her pre-house-of-windsor
Saxe-Coburg and Gotha teeth,
chin... and... what the hell and other have
they almost made... insufferable
in it being: signatured? the teeth,
the chin... the eyes!

saxons... jews of the germans...
nomads of the north...
it's not like they ever moved with
a hope for adventure...
when a saxon moves...
he moves with a sense of investment...
he brings his reproductive tools with him...
no wonder there was a feud between
the germans and the "germans": the saxons...
this is... what could not possibly be...
the basic interpretation of england...
past the "chernobyl" of the norman invasion...
how celtic became saxon became
french... became... a ******* cocktail
cosmopolitan...
but the welsh still retained their:
Cymru...
there you go...
white cross on a black canvas...
pirates!
Wales and Cornwall...
dip into a ditto-esque whatever...

the remains of the saxons when the global
cocktail decided to send a postcard from
'ere minding the cockney shlang as:
the proper way to speak... Estonian...
eh?!

bewildered germans speaking...
i don't even know what i am speaking:
it's not much of an achievement if you're
speaking english...
you're bound to suffer from a variant of
flu or fluke or slang...
it's not exactly regarded as:
high esteem latin... or hebrew...

pauper Poland: "where i'm from"...
thank god it's omitted...
never in discussions...
by western "proletariats"...
cheap beer in Prague while... Warsaw?
sowwy... not enough bi-lingual
tour-guides and trout ******* mothers
from the caravan of Zappa...

and we will beg to differ...
i don't come from a people who would
celebrate being conquered by ancient rome
had to matter...
yet somehow i write in Latin encoding...
imagine if... Latin encoding was lost
akin to cuneiform...
but it wasn't...
i did, i truly did...
miss the glagolitic transition via
greek into cyrilic...

invader kin: these slavs these indo-europeans...
it ***** up the narrative of the origin seekers...
these modern, "protestant":
afro-europeans of the YEST...
i say: part of the gesticulation of jesting...

among the saxons who disavow their germanic
heritage... thinking they could somehow
replicate the polish-lithuanian commonwealth...
last time i heard...
just because the scotch speak english...
but keep their: wee part of the equation...
the welsh still speak their welsh...
pen dal i fyny uchel draig...

what's the difference betwen...
the medieval Lithuanian...
and the modern Welsh?
what doesn't allow this "union" to sink
into a second Yugoslavia?
h'american influences?
the... "commonwealth"?
at what point sharing a tongue is a plus...
when anyone can start reciting a Bruce Lee
film: kung fu action packed:
chop sui?

augusta III sasa and
marii józefy habsburżanki...
the house of ßaß...
saxons... again: the hebrew of the germanic people...
the nomads of the confederation...
they always... need... to... move!
and if you find them not moving...
they settle for pyramids...
and i mean: pyramids without Giza
reliefs of archeological "findings"...

but there's a massive gap...
between europe... that "bit" in the middle...
and russia...
russophobia is quiet funny...
i'd still prefer to speak german when
celebrating christmas...
after all... i did make a fickenumbringen
when it came to that alcoholic cake...
nein nein...
nicht ein königskuchen noch ein
stollen! keks... kegs...
a rumtopf!

oh i don't mind the natives...
who are the natives?
where the **** is alice?
parasites leeches... sächsischumgangssprache:
wo / wann sesshaft...
are the natives the welsh with their
retainer tongue kept intact like...
the scotch? the ire hell and fire 'reesh!
who does it take...
to speak to the natives of these isles?

just wondering...
because the saxons that remained...
and the saxons that left...
have a ******* in las vegas...
glory be to man to be the man
on the moon...
and all that...

i spent this christmas and...
i didn't buy anyone anything...
i just undermined myself...
when in england...
feel at home, during christmas...
talk some german,
some german outside of a saxon
influence of being the jew-german...
moving from place to place...
****: ja ja... ich "versammeln"...
nomadin / se-my'tine... deutsche "mischling"...

please excuse the saxons...
they are a... frivolous bunch of...
hobbit seeking elven folk...
the chinese crusade and medicinal ivory powder...
apparently: those ****-*****-base-*******-stinkers
will grow! they have size 11 feet and are...
5ft6 tall... walking on chicken nuggets then...
or stilts... or... that chinese harem of:
tied feet and toe "heels"...

oh i'm very much in england...
i can just soak myself in wild...
belligerent humour...
i've dropped any sense of irony...
it's ridicule on steroids...
but as long as there's an element of being
self-deprecating?

poland is the cindarella of europe:
hungary is worthwhile the better return of
being an: examplar reminder...
of how to deviate from socio-political norms...

black hole piece of europe...
then again: in between russia and the west...
there's some variation of an "interlude"...
which is neither west, nor east, nor central...

ensure you keep a **** in the orchestra...
so foul that it would make
a cat jump running...
giggling... turning on nazareth's
hair of a dog... being reminded:
there's a cow bell in it being towed...
and what choir spectacular didn't ever use
a castrato?

- because if i wanted to retain...
rhyme and a formality of this tongue...
how would i ever feel comfortable...
nothing of the spectacular...
the everyday myopia magic:
how umbrellas became mushrooms
in the fog grey forest of the urban
amnesia...
because i too tend to forget a Mozart...
when i find myself...
falling asleep to the sound of falling
rain on a tin roof...
violin begone! cello begone!
give me rain on a tin roof!

i'll be your Muhammad counting
the number of bones in a body...
truly and vividly so...
i can forget Mozart...
when i fall asleep...
while it's raining and...
the monotone gives me bliss...
the same note: on repeat...
on repeat.. on repeat...
nonetheless: it's still to be regarded
as a polyphony!

it's either *****, or it's blackmail,
you choose; i've had, enough!
of making a choice! i've made mine already!
hoisin duck wraps! ******* and your
twisted "upkeep" of the white culture...
ich sagte meine finale,
    überqueren meiné
   origínal setzen...
        ich werden meiné
zweite vorschlag -
                  die kreuzzug:
and i mean, really really mean:
die schwarzkreuz auf ein
         trügerisch pazifist segeltuch...
i really don't understand
the undermining of the germans...
i really, really think these people
are crafting the next auschwitz with
their ****** take on innocence,
to me the muslims are the next jews...
but i like drinking watching this
cinema...
   makes the whiskey tvice *** goot,
thrice as godot...
            go ha ha jerky in deutsche...
these muslims don't know
germans...
          i'm waiting for the goblin
cannibals to start eating the
            migrants...
   fun fun fun...
             it's like you almost miss
the jews -
woe to those: who have seriously undermined
    das deutsche... as i say:
            nein, ich bin sißer sie
            gemacht spaß was auf nicht
       machen sein witz: zukunft geist...
and that really is my best effort of spastic
german... i think it was along
the lines:
   take the **** out of the germans,
you will regret ******* out of
the germans,
because ******* out of the english,
only means a delayed reaction
from the americans / australians...
  which is always the worst part of the joke,
that, by being delayed, is never,
actually endowed with a status of:
being a joke akin to auschwitz ha ha no ha ha.
             still, **** me,
those hoisin duck wraps,
and the calendar year being unchanging;
keep calling it d-day qua qua quacking
jeep...
          oh, right, blah blah
black sheep... forgot about the swans,
just started to imagine the israeli invention
of the u.z.i., hiding behind the propaganda
surrounding the kalashnikov.

Einige wundervolle Dinge,
einige wundervolle Gefühle,
einige wundervolle Zeiten
wirst Du nie vergessen

ich hoffe, ich bin eins davon,
sagte das kleine Wort

jy het soos 'n warrelwind in my lewe ingekom;
onverwags en alles omver gegooi,
maar op 'n goeie manier.
ek kan vir die eerste keer uit my buik uit lag,
my hare deurmekaar los,
en
pizza eet sonder om te huiwer.

daar is nie vlinders nie, maar 'n rustigheid oor my.
ek is só bang dié goeie tyding draai
en jy stap weg, so vinnig as wat jy gekom het.
so vou vir 'n ring, 'n belofte, uit geroeste draad.
wat rooibruin merke aan my vingers laat
wanneer die noodlot jou probeer steel.
sommer ogiesdraad,
dat dit nie regtig is nie.
maar dat my hart kan rustig raak.

vat my pinkie in joune en seël dit met 'n sagte soen
en ek sal weet - jy is hier om te bly.

god: the spare ego.
gott: die schonen / scheuen
        ich...
            selbstbewusstsein
die schonen ich...
   sheuenselbstbewusstsein:

gebäude -
   recht von falsch...

  kommen sie meine sagte...
    stille, und ein spielen
  auf abschattung...

death the pillow known as sleep,
to challenge the imagination
encompassed within
the posit of... dreams.