i'm not a "gamer"... i'm a brothel leech...
a gomorrahite...
   this antithesis of safe-space
sodomites...
      gaming: ending with MGS1...
FFVIII... tenchu...
      for the console...
age of empires...
rome: total war...
                           i'll pay an extra 10 quid
to slur an oyster...
on top of 10 quid goes to
the madame... this fat ***** that would look
better in a slaughterhouse...
and that... gimp... turk... "turk"...
of a bodyguard: 5'9"... of something
i'd rather: first: sneeze on...
before piunching it for a sound
a making solids...

i'm not a gamer... but i'm keen pmn narratives...
and i'm willing to provide the diskjockey
sountrack...
either all vomito *****...
or... :wumpscut...
soylent grün...
                               thorns...
bunkertor sieben...
          anita sarkeesian: but...
                 i know when something
becomes just about enough:
       annoying...
if i had children...
             i'd be... but i don't...
so there's no point me venturing to:
the far far away... in... once upon a time
sort of galaxy... and story...

what could possibly be wrong
with: reclaiming a nation a place
for the orthodox in-breeders to secure
the spireweb waiting for the spider?
cousins best... confined...
to Gaza human shields reunion...
i don't mind the brothers ******* the sisters...
contraception: please...
but when cousins are *******
and no contraception is invoked...
anyone? with two months spare...
for liberal lingo...
and... how... the flu was given...
a "season": interlude...

            sooner i choke on blood...
the nation and the diaspora...
sorry... but the 'ebrews aren't the sole depostiory
"grieving party":
forever those not knowing
the snow of cracow... "oops":
yeah... that... "oops"...

        iowa.... is like that,,,
the ukraine of europe: the ukraine
of h'america: iowa?
and albania... the physiognomy of
a ******* plato: the vestern
vegeterians still keep dubbing it: "east"...
east is turkey... it isn't...
mesapotamia... whittle asia...
whittle shrimp ****...
**** cares you get covered in
**** phlegm... no... seriously...
what... sh'sh'shire?!

      keep pushing back the "east" *******...
albanians are practically macedonians
are practically greeks:

ancient greece is the birth of our modern
democracy: say that... pretending to be...
constipated...
east... east of Berlin? east of... Kiev?
east of Warsaw... east of Bucharest...
east of Budapest... i'm pretty sure:
south of Stockholm, Oslo, Helsinki...
dangengham & reddbridge and copenhagen:
not... "too... sure"...

east ******! greenwich mean-time!
part of the club: not part of the club...
**** it... wozz-eVer...
albanians are the sort of east
that the greeks are sort of north...
because...
   being a... greenwich:
**** three ways tends to be...
a bit... "confusing"...
                                                  ­       no?
tabloid press entertainment...
           shoot a lucky 'un from Syria...
go on... heavens only knows why
saudio arabia sits: fat... and harem...
impotent... when it comes to...
sheltering the syrias...
so much for the ummah!
so much for islam!

         *******: pseudo saudi grecoid!
you pseudo-arab
                     turk wash-up monkey!
that lawrence:
better shelved that care for a suntan...
beside...
            pakistani: ummah proud!
three words...

                   khadija **** khuwaylid:
who wrote the first surahs when
everyone treated muhammad as an ******?
he was the illiterate...
she was the older woman...
with an acumen for business...
she was literate... he wasn't...
miracle! a ****** mary birth!

                            *******'s worth of levant crap:
best kept in zoological matters...
you already stole the gods...
i have 'ere...
the crucifixion... i must make that
obsolete: if investigated:
by investing in a pike... running through
at the genesis: **** or pelvis...
hands died...
what of: "n.e.w.s."?!

           i don't game... i don't gamble...
this is plenty;
not enough the nation...
because... the status quo of the diaspora...
no? it has always remained a concern
that was already made available:
what is the intellectual concern
for the nation...
when all intellects: for... nationalism...
have failed...
who is to unhinge: the strict foundations
of 2000 years of the diaspora...
and the yids are not alone...

           who would require a bunch of israeli
farmers of dates and lemons...
when the diaspora of brookyln 'ebrews is:
as it ever was...
or the diaspora of persians...

                  call it a "nation"... i call it...
native russians of cosmopolitan moscow...
rereading the mythology of...
      the kamchatka peninsula...
          eh... what's alaska?
             wet wood to burn...
                                       nation: the cosmopolitan
antics! *******! *******! thrice! the cockerel!

saudi arabia could: saudi arabia should...
given the concept of the ummah...
give... what the syrians deserve...

     but seeing how the saudis treat the syrians
like they're kosovans: remains of the ottomans...
etc.: and the afghans are like...
this in-breeding fetish for understanding
iceland... etc. etc.
      
         simplified bargains of narrative...
              who takes who and what...
who's what and what's who...
        i almost forgot...
it's not repatriation: not really...
when the sundail: proper... isn't moving...
to repatriate within the confines of:
made in china...

                   ten thousand romanian
fruit pickers...
   i was born into a theatre of metallurgy...
soviet: yes...
but cheap soviet iron is better than
cheap-****-*****...
         repetriation of economy... comes first...
then... comes the thought concerning
the "outliers".

studying the a.i. concept of / via the internet...

i talked to siri once... she didn't reply,
instead she sent a message to all these people
that only said: slow down...
   yeah, messaged her... she wasn't the blonde
turned super-redhead i was led to imagine,
but at least she reacted in an unexpected way...

siri? oh, that microsoft a.i. project?
     i play word games, not world of warcraft...
luckily we can be said to be architect of some kind,
   or at least that's how keep a sane head when using
the internet... or simply bypassing all major
outlets that encourage certain messaging services,
like the telephone, the media... the pope...
  i'll write my little ******* verse
         for someone who doesn't implement
censors... not unless it's wattpad, that has
a genius code that doesn't allow you to ctrl + c
and then ctrl + p...
           that's probably the only good thing about
that website...
   if all website had the secret to not allowing
a ctrl + c, that would really be basis for
intellectual property, and what's otherwise the basis
for jurisprudence in the ultra-modern era...
        the fact that most websites don't use
a sentence of code that implements a ban on
ctrl + c says a lot... i mean: a grand canyon's worth
of meaning about theft and plagiarism and what not...

yeah, but you see... given the + of wattpad,
it's hard to understand why someone, a really ******
poet can complain to the authority of the website
for having a conversation with them
on the basis that you simply do the 20th century thing
of a hotmail chat room within the frame of
the acronym a.s.l. -
          but merely concentrating on the l -
so you... well, imagine where they're writing from...
i suppose there wouldn't be a problem asking
them if they have pets...

yet how this thing behaves on a musical level...
you start listening to a macbeth soundtrack,
you switch to listening to the exmachina sountrack,   <-- p.s. ref.
and you want to listen to a particular song,                      to unnecessary
in this case: #6 -                                                                       italics
    so a bit like writing a symphony and calling                    thus
it: in #A or... that's A-major, isn't it?

   and to the sound of wasps' in a flurry...

    it's about how the algorithm behaves when you
take that one song out from a link to the entire
sountrack, and what other suggestions come along,
the immediate sense of archeology of past choices /
preferences... e.g. robert plant's darkness darkness...
hedningarna's räven, ghost b.c.'s year zero...

the only thing that's artificial is the fact that someone
smart enough to code wrote the program,
           on the basis that i didn't have the capacity to write it
in order to not muse about it's behaviour...
  
i have keep making these repetitive interactions with
the internet, it's this thing completely devoid of
any sublayers this world might have -
  well... if we didn't have internet banking i'd
clearly say: life on the internet, and real life...
    there's bound to be a "    "         in that sentence,
i'm just not sure where to put it...
      i stopped believing there was a distinction,
given how huge the human population is
and the needs to travel... for what? coffee and cookies?

for those of us who still remember life in the 20th
century...
                         what was i, in 2000? 14?
   i was a kid back then, and i'm sure people much
older than me think fondly of it...
         there was so many things to touch, to feel,
to smell...
                       i don't have this classical 20th century
or beginning with nietzsche *nostalgia*
for ancient greece... my nostalgia is subtle because
it revolves around an organic structure of
my own memory, nostalgia for ancient greece
is quiet frankly, *inorganic*, that gets passed down
via philosophy books... my nostalgia is for the
end of the 20th century... not so much being a child
or anything as crass as that...
                    but that there was this fluidity in the world....
hanging out with people in car parks,
               going to the high street...
                  agoraphobia took over from that...
and that's the best thing the greeks ever gave us:
a list of phobias...
  but then why would i be right about that?
given that polite society doesn't engage with
dialectics... with **** schizoi A bashing this opinion
and **** schizoi B blasting that opinion...

recent videos i watched? a funny compilation...
     i have to admit that *sia's* early output is
staggering... she's like this matured version of
*katy b*...
                     can you imagine that some of us coming
from the 20th century had the sole ambition
to work in a music shop?
                          oh look.... that's flushed down the toilet...

god... i hate sarcasm, it's such a dry comedy,
i might as well walk into a desert and pretend i'm
a cactus.

oh right... youtube videos...
   that rare combination of
*the amazing atheist* and transgender dating and
if that's bigotry...
      i already stated the "video" i'm watching now
exmachina #6... no, nothing robotic imagining the music...
more like wasps... or termites... evidently something
sinister... but then again gradual,
nothing like an avalanche... and there is a part
of me that would like to usher in some purposive
imagery... but then i'm being fed imagery
and i'm trying to refine what it could be by that track...

oh right... and the last video...
   this is such a francis bacon moment, how he
found beauty in violence...
    me... i'm more into seeing a brotherhood of some sort,
something that can be shared, moulded,
     something elemental, and vaguely orientated
around western values of free speech...
             anything but a vague humanity,
this constant need to individualise...
     to speak about things where the only taboo left
standing is violence...
                    there are age restrictions, of course (oddly
enough, missing in galleries...
but you know: if you ever masturbated over
an Agnolo Bronzino painting... you might talk
something as refined as the link i'm about to post)...

       youtube - Russian streetfights
                                         Russians VS Muslims...

what's amazing is this sense of togetherness....
              i can't call it anything but baconesque
after watching the david jacoby adaptation of
the artist's life and work (daniel craig being the muse
and tragic suicide)... it's almost as soothing as sitting
on a beach and watching the sea...
                                       being an only child
gives me this precursor of opinion... to think of a large
family, moving synchro like a wave.....
           it is the sea, truly... it swells and absorbs
                            the earth, teasing, gently nibbling
on it...
                      well... at least that's how i use the internet;
and so much more gratifying is the case
where i make the conscious effort that
  is in equilibirum to the made effort,
                        rather than just a passive care for
number, and a video; unless of course i'm fooling myself
on that *** note...

to finally see violence as the last standing taboo
                            and all others so openly disclosed.

p.s. what's with this website's * / _   ?

your soul is like the night sky
so deep, constellated
silent, yet with a beautiful sountrack
emotional vibrations
that echoes in my eyes
the flattered eyes that reflects your soul
so calm and so inviting
just like the night sky

a falling star...
I'm just a falling star
in the navy blue sky of your soul

.monotheism suspected men, to be ontologically docile, autistic, solipsistic in terms of their relation to women... hence they provided an catalyst-esque solution... to shame, their ****** drive derived for an ultra-private expedience, and exploit it, toward a ****** drive... derived within the confines of a non-reciprocated ultimatum... monotheism, ergo... is... very much a religion for women... islam is, of course, part of it... the three strands of monotheism... are... m'eh... religions derived by women, for women, at the expense of male genital mutilation... thank **** that i was not circumcised... i'm over 'ere, with the ***** and the 'indu.

i'll sooner appreciate pushing out a ****,
than watching a sunrise,
custard mind all over again..

    and what's up with this,
background noise...
of either a train chuggling
into the "distance"...
it's already in the "distance"...

almost a thank god moment:
hercules went mad...

  counter the "train"...
i hear forses galloping,
like an entourage precursor...
i definitely "hear"
horses, galloping,
those are certainly hooves..

and the **** is up
with men, in western culture,
being orientated around
having to make priority
over ***....
       eh?
         you ****,
or...
     you don't...
and if you don't...
you find counter outlets...
t'ah d'ah...
  stay up all night
for a channel 5 movie
screening of neon demon...
just because:
you gorged over the sountrack...

a little bit of wiggly-here,
and a bit of wiggly-woo...
mike myers doing
the fat ******* "quiz"....
hey presto! some sort of sushi!

i always ask a sane person,
do you, do you,
do you hear that, that train?
the usual answer, no.
so i ask again,
do you, do you hear those horses?
the usual answer is, no.

should have sniffed lines of *******
and "elaborated"
on an eric clapton classic...
****, turn over,
next chapter...
   that sad sad story of
always and everywhere but
always and everywhere
provided, it happens in Yankee-town...
burp...
     as long as pweety gurl is
all gurl for girl groove...
and.. it's h'america...
   coolio.

****-hole town h'america,
where everyone minds their own business...
nope...
   hey pretty...
that's not on the cards...
     ******* giggles into the night...
which is the worthwhile
template...
a thumb's length of whiskey
in the afternoon,
english politics,
           fish & chips...
a bottle of wine,
a beer for the walk:
****! where's the dog?!
  and back onto the whiskey...

basics: you find me drinking in
the daylight hours,
you find me giggling...
ergo you find me in a good mood...

      i once mate an inmate,
a fellow, nutritionist,
of ethnicity, inmate,
by the name of Paul...
a dub-step d.j. pusher...
who taught me:
amphetamines give you
insomnia...
so i drank and i drank:
and kept on drinking...
and snorted very little,
and...
   "bias"...

                what?!
i don't have an idea relating
to tinder or
game of thrones...

zero, zilch,                 wh'ah?!

i hate to break it for you,
it's still a ******* train charging
in the background,
or three horsemen
looking out for the fourth...

   in terms of a train?
romford train station is...
5 miles away from my house...
visual hallucinations are clarity
prone...
   auditory hallucinations?
eh, come again?

           how advanced can
the faculty of imagination be,
when there's no walt disney,
and it's purely solipsistic
projection?
    how can my imagination
be so advanced,
so insular,
        and at the same time...
have a negative affect on me?

  trains, horses...

   point of a somewhat base
for "closure",
   when i told them:
i heard a choir, in a church,
heading up to camden town...
they presumed
the choir i heard
was singing latin...

      who the hell said
"they" were singing in latin?!
they, the psychiatric team,
simply presumed,
it was latin...
      **** on me...
what if it was greek?
    
            or hebrew?

or... occult zunge?
         when will it become necessary,
for people, to realise,
that... a projection of the imagination,
as a reply to genuine
symptoms of schizophrenia...

              does, not, exist...
if imagination was as potent,
as it, already is,
in the positive extracts of
the already stated examples...
you'd get a movie,
or a painting...
        but... in the majority of the cases...
projection of the imagination,
a free reign of the imagination
in reply, governed by a complexity
of thought, within
the symptom of auditory hallucinations...

you're serious... right?
you want me to be serious with this,
"theory"?
          
    perhaps dostoyevsky said the following:
    
   'to angels - vision of god's throne,
         to insects - sensual lust'

i can compensate,
      the thrill, a brothel, a period of
vomitting,
  nerves shattered, asking for a cup
of water,
   while sitting before Nazgûl "harem"
of ******...
and then back into the western
narrative of feminism,
and... forever unable to relate to it...
once every 3 years will do just fine,
for an hour's worth of *******...

      but this constant: yap-yap-yapping
about ****** *******,
or lack, thereof, this constant bragging,
compare little richards all you want...
you circumcised?
i said, are, you m.g.m.?
   male genital mutilation example?
yes, no? no? yes?
       you have a hoodie,
the jerking-off allowance "jacket"?
yes, no? no? yes?
      audioslave: miami vice sountrack?
bells, bells, ring any?
      oh, right,
so you're telling me she can play the *****-dodo
game over a web-cam,
with you, attired to, "express yourself"
with scented candles,
    a credit card,
               and a comfy chair?
    **** on me,
and i thought that baptism was bad,
i just "forgot" in being confirmed...
   too bad...
   given you can't exactly regrow your
*******...
        and it's not like you're going
to suddenly don a kippah,
     or... a tonsure...
                                        oops?!

well, yeah...
   why wouldn't it boil down to the genitals...
if there's such a concept as
f.g.m., then there's m.g.m.,
   why rob men of the requisite of
the ability of jerking off
without shaming via the act per se...
oh i'm pretty sure
  Onan was shamed...
once he performed the act,
after, he was circumcised...
hey, i'm competing with fweedom!
a gurly girl,
                  a *****, and a webcam!

bull: china shop...
   and by god i think...
this will morph, spawn...
       and become the awaited
form of abomination.

pre-scriptum that's actually a p.s. - shock value: staggering! what? peering into an empty glass, where once pirate ***-one-eye and damsel in distress ms. pepsi once resided! shocking! what now? well... guess that means a refill; ahoy the next glug glug! shave my ***** hair and call me p'ooh bear while you're at it; go on, skippy... MOVE IT!

a lazy ****, lodged up your ***...
suggesting
   itself, ever so slightly as being
present...
  man... the most terrible drinking
companion to date...
   in such moments it's never
much,
    it's not you're going to be *******
out a boa-sized tapeworm...
but you know: the general
discomfort, like wearing female underwear...
and it never is much,
it, just, *is, there, forcing you
to think about its presence,
and that's more annoying than:
are we there yet? no. are we there yet?
no. are we there yet? no, no, no!
******, take the plunge,
be off with your ******* sloth
dynamic of pretending to be a cute
parisian pastry in the display window
in some parisian bakery!
*******!
  that's what the blank said to me:
write me a funny one...
   less ***... and more:
         the confinements of taking the 2no.
for a stroll, past st. peter's gate
and toward the throne of thrones...
sure thing floating choccie...
     but just:                     imagine!
mmm... stardust and cinnamon...
   my grandfather had this knack of
describing his **** as:
         i was just around the strawberry
fields... oh look! i also found a dozen
plums, and a handful of, cherries!
have those with milk, and that's
            the perfect laxacative, that is.
on a serious note though...
(what's the onomatopoeia for snigger?
that painful kind of laughter?
                don't know? me neither) -
it's hard to think when you
have a "hitchhiker" who has suddenly
outstayed its welcome...
             a bit like the nicotine
"hangover" in the morning...
         **** me the excess of phlegm...
you hark, you bark, you snort backwards,
you spit, you sneeze,
you do everything possible to clear
the cavities...
   after a while you finally reach
the morning bliss of:
  smelling mint next to you...
you obviously water it to make the scent
exfoliate and become more potent...
but on a sober note,
this sunday times magazine
article by india knight got me thinking...
well... not really "thinking"
just bothered...
      she's moaning about loneliness
and the solution: ***-bots...
    she mention ****-boast gabriel -
and the flacid **** when you'd prefer a cuddle...
the sad bit?
       apparently men are the prime
instigators of this "phenomenon"...
   men only need ***-bots, someone tell them
they're loved...
   thanks... next i'll ask a cave to echo back
a hello for me, morphing my voice
into that of adelle's...
   look at my face... it came back in spanish!
biggest turn-off, (how to teen girls write it? ah!)
                                EVA!
sieve the eden eve into it?
    now i know that's funny, but i always write
it assured that it isn't...
sometimes i get it wrong,
   sometimes i even get a laugh for myself...
which brings me to the crucial point...
company?
           well yeah, i have "conundrum" -
the memory of a sober me from 1 hour ago...
    he likes to iron shirts,
  watches female football...
         likes ***** dancing because:
"apparently" - the film with the best soundtrack -
loves cooking, loves taking out the trash,
turns into a menace with his cats...
               no, i'm not buying it...
ah, what's the point of selling myself like that,
it becomes a pretty boring ambition
of getting to mid-life and ******* younger girls...
i always thought that youth guards youth,
but... no... sour note that part...
   well... nothing like turning to the guard
of cenobite invitation...
   and **** me, that ship has... sailed!
   oh look, a pretty moment,
                     a ship on the canvas of where
sky meets sea, and a lonely ship,
           and a sun taken to skinny-dipping!
just like a gay might say with
exact syllable peacocking: mar-ve(h)-loose!
louse? sure dingy-dingity-****
    two sopranos and three ballerinas later...
john? was it john? daaaarling...
   you're my favourite compensation
                                              to arthritis!
seriously? ***-bots are a man's thing?
    so they made their pro-bot movies akin
to ex_machina...
  but do people still remember
    that ***-bot in spielberg modern twist
on pinocchio via the a.i. movie?
   wasn't the ***-bot male?
                        lucky girls...
here with my bone-structured "****" imitation...
who ****** who with a
       flacid soft-pouch-of-a-kangaroo
****? shanta claush? sean... i told you to stop it!
     shorry.
                      shure you are.
ah, **** yeah! ****** joe! -
now that's tacky, we've moved on - now they're
called the teenage mutant turtle...
     teenage.... turtle... mutant... avengers?
whatever:
michael, raphael, gabriel, uriel, saraqael,
    raguel, and remie....
   theology and fame... ah... you probably
heard only the fraction 2/7...
    what part was the part where "lonely"
was implied?
the part where i like my own farts...
    or the part where i find it really, really *******
difficult to even sleep with a cat in the same bed?
or the part that i fall asleep best,
with a lullaby of a horror movie sountrack?

i have become tyrannical in my writing,
lest you know,
the more frequent the phrase might be:
the more undisturbed you are in writing,
the more iron-maiden clad you become...
i never seeked readers,
i seeked... scholars...
              and there's a difference...
newspapers seek readers,
            cheap novels seek readers,
i made it my "ambition" to seek the schools
of scholasticism,
perhaps a vanity project,
  perhaps anything, you can think of,
and all those things i would dare say:
are true!
               but the difference between
a reader, and a scholar?
                    i wish no drama upon myself
and upon my "readers", prior to
the finicky wavering of time compared to wind,
prior to: the finicky wavering of fashion
(that's still rather a momentum of being
repeated) -
               the numbers do not, suffice,
the reader count does not oblige me to succumb
to the same, what would become:
a caricature endeavour, of the original promise,
let alone a premise.
     i once did stoop low before the idiots,
and i had my share of possibly narrating such
events: the so-called "intellectual-*******"
of a blank page... by now, calling someone
a pin-point, a (0, 0) coordinate doesn't seem
so shallow, and demeaning,
  as when the person is adjusted to a posit
stand-still... but when an endeavour is being
criticised? that's when **** hits the fan...
       i don't mind mechanisation of a man...
i think it takes great skill in perfecting
       a profession akin to a carpenter,
               or a roofer...
       esp. roofing, since i cannot see any machine
replacing these men...
esp. on an industrial scale...
   but, when, an endeavour is compared
to jerking off... and is done so, by both mental
as both physical slackers?! the gloves
are off!
            i've had enough patience with these
surrogates of maggots! these parasitical
inbreds!
               who'd prefer to throw books
rather than bricks in a solidarity unison of
protest! enough!
i don't need idiots to read me,
    i just need, a pinch of salt to water
the eyes on the opposite end of these words:
i need, scholars...
        the ambitiously determined leeches
of attention...
                       the more the hunger grows,
the more i compensate with a symbiosis
of giving those, who seek the same amount of
attention, i am fed, in return, and in return:
spew into the submission of a blank canvas...
hard to find a symbiosis these days...
easily the gloat of book-sales...
                 but to find a classroom of
"children", who have an un-contested frame
for not losing attention?
                       well...
        who needs a book that only allows
the reader to take it to bed, in order to fall
asleep to?
                   give me hellraiser ii: hellbound
sountrack, every day, throughout the year,
i'd i'm k.o. at track no. 3: something to think
about...
                as i once said:
if a book is difficult: read it in an uncomfortable
position, e.g.: perched on a windowsill,
sitting on a folded leg...
           no point pretending to be
hindu / buddhist guru, spewing out
alts. to self-help guides...
    just read a difficult book, in an uncomfortable
position, overcome the body's discomfort,
and reach the potency: of a comforted mind,
an ego in an arm-chair.

i'm not even going to *******
this one out like a nabokov,
catching butter-fluriers...
i'll try to be adolescent having
a memory...
       the mortal kombat
sountrack...
            and instead catching moths...
or rahter...
       she's the younger sister
of a girl i...
  did the versailles sale of
a princess test...
    god... ******* ****** women?
it's like turning your phallus
into a scalpel...
              but it was love at first
sight... and if i lived
in an: arranged marriage society?
then maybe...
   but ******* two sisters
in one lifetime?
                   kinda ****** up...
******* a ****** is no fun,
it's ugly, it's scary,
it's... turning your "****" into
a shrimp...
     and once you do...
you start thinking:
so why didn't she get off with a *****,
to begin with?
  is that like a...
time binding economy
that... somehow requires
consecration from the choir
boy **** teasers?!
isn't the vatican, the only homosexual
state?
    don't know, wouldn't ask...
too busy with the ****-mortem
of bulgarian prostitutes
faking being romanian...
         that leg... wrapping itself
around my torso...
   that chilling example of
                skin, confined to a thigh?
i may be mortal...
  but this memory?
                it's eternal...
                   i really want to
remember her name...
  but she lied...
     so i really can't...
   lies?
   lies = bad memory...
   lies do not allow a memorißation...
but there is the remaining
touch...
   the engulfing leg over
the torso...

           that subliminal kiss...
like a squid... digesting
both flesh and teeth...
              
      ever
                   kissed a *******?
and not write a marcel schwob novel?
moi....
              the thrill comes...
when she's really...
really.. nymphomaniac... eager...
to attire a part of you in rubber...
and you resist...

   and then you play...
   teasing her... for a kiss...
and you manage to receive
a 1950s... hollywood: hold on casablanca
type of smooch...

         and it's a kiss like it
might be an 17th century medicinal
take on leeches...
        
  a kiss that leaves you toothless...
which is why...
i never understood the american
concept of a striptease...

or whatever **** is, or became...

what is so american,
that isn't wordly,
than what is a strip-club...
that isn't a belgian brothel?

nul.

blaze of glory:
you know...
like the soundtrack...
like: zebras
gonna be my horses
when i arrive
at Versailles... like...

am i the **** am i part of this
narrative?
nein! ich bin nicht! so...
the **** with these...
   sandschloßarchitekten:

wild-wild warum würde nicht du?

sure...

   but...

more horror movie
sountrack than
'air do Cain
'air pop rebel...

                   Abel said:
i'd much prefer...
the ***** & Gomorrah
in your gob,
than a gob of a heart's worth,
and a mind to boot...
to courtesan Versailles...
for the puncture's worth
of feeling,
and all the more hiding:

less tickled
and the more agitated...

  zähler-es:
    das ist alles...
und alles ist alle.

  i heave the drunken heart
and wish...
all my lullaby be soundtracks
from horror movies.

better than drinking and listening
to music...
i forgot: "forgot" to become a...
music nerd... a needle-drop:
ant(h)ony fantano...
       a... john peel...
          linguo nerd:
                   the tetragrammaton
is like a bulging ego phallus...
with moloch the... elephant's ******
depth of... the mariana trench...
like landing on the ******* moon!
yet to happen!
i love music... but... apparently...
not enough...
the budget was ah... ha ha...
stash of old records... some jazz...
some *******... shotakovich...
some...
               ah... no wonder...
i turn on the radio and i'm freed from
having collected... personal
preferences...
    because... i stopped...
demdyke stair...
the soft moon...
            :wumpscut...
   the wooden shjips...
        bohren & der club of gore...
  gjeilo: the northern lights...
   christopher young: the hellraiser hellbound
sountrack...
   peter gabriel... contra john debney...
joshue redman...
        jazz... not... a thing for the internet's
busiest musical nerd...
   yeah... rap was never...
on the cards...
                        musical "nostalgia"...
knocking on marble: will the elgin ever...
                                sing?!
at least a song of:
who they... belong to...
because... who does... the rosetta stone...
belong to? the party... most invested
in deciphering it? perhaps?!

so much for not being a musical nerd...
anthony... that's....
me toying with nerding:
          ανθoνɛ̄....

                   or.... αντoνɛ̄... serve me up a diet
or radio... and i'll give-away my eclectic stash
of... non-review...
wardruna? heilung?!      
   again...
                    that's like... no concern / alarm...
for the tetragrammaton "not being"
an imitation - idea - that sort of behaves like...
a fungus... a telepathic magic mushroom...

sings the praises to god: allah...
jesus christ: hope it's not me...
schadenfreude civility thoroughly brought
forward...
but... hides... the four letters...
in a tetragrammaton: in ha-shem...
     and... yet the sparrows sing...
the crows peck and croack...
and there can be... some... sanctity in
the affairs of man...
a potency / a cognitive stimulus...
because... what bogus story what myth
is to be arrived at with a hebrew god
that moved everywhere...
and wasn't... this rock-hardened...
odin presence... etc.

       better than listening to music
and drinking and smoking the ration
of two cigarettes per day...
the lionel nation podcast...
talk radio...
you have to... at some point...
expand pop music... beyond and...
therefore expand beyond classical music...
jazz... retain a love for...
people freely talking...
and the drinking and the rationed smoking
of cigarettes...
i too have my freedom...
but... i don't have an audience...
in writing? in death-scribbling?
i have eyes... i don't have ears...

           i might conjure: a darting ogling:
whithered eye "conudrum:
roulette with eyes: the first one to blink
gets a shot in the dark:
or at a gambling shadow...

    because it didn't really matter that
i was standing in a cue
to buy some Leffe brews at the supermarket
today...
and that there was a single white...
blonde girl two metres before me...
a single white solo mother and grandmother...

and a black couple... trouble...
i was the size of the woman...
and the man was... a chin in height:
above / ahead of me...
what a lovely sight...
   there was no racial antagonism:
a black man was replicating "black":
he was ******* a black woman
and... hey presto! a black baby!
what... a *******! lovely... sight!
two black people well equipped
with the proper translation
of a hindu manuscript of the kama sutra!

it's good to know that tigers will only
**** tigers... lions will only **** lions...
that cheetahs will only **** cheetahs...
i was creeping silent with:
the black woman is the size of me...
how did the colonial buggers size
up their "intelligence" with that basic:
******: physical renown of superiority:
and simply, "simply" catch these:
because the experience
of the slavs and the mongols:
shrimp **** extraordinaire: typos...

it was just pristine...
to see a black and a black woman
and a black child...
not me though...
i have to come back
to this masochism with a... ahem...
"future" bride...
the bride the mother-in-law towing
a... ******* crucifix and an umbilical
chord... wildened ivy keeping
to bear hug the suffocation...

the goat blood and choke...
i'm very happy for the "orcs" to have
their status invoked...
lost germanic peoples... somewhat celt...
velsh...
orc: from: out of africa...
while the slavs surmouted the stereotype:
ask the mongol...
plenty of assumptions:
race is a h'american "thing"...
next thing you know...

is it so bad seeing a black man be in love
with a black woman with a
black child? can i take anything
from a woodland pigeon *******
a woodland pigeon: a fox ******* a fox?
cocktails galore! halfwits and
nuanced *******:
                who's this?
woodland elf...
            ottoman dwarf: pseudo-turk?
the high-brow... merovingian...
the danupe snippet: the rhine order?
they were the ones...
who discovered h'america...
and... somehow... "by chance" also...
rediscovered europe!
h'americans re-discovered europe!

race baiting...
the mongrel crude follow: suite...
all are arabs! all are offered
the stature of rajastan: afghanistan!
copper-skinned: globalist...
cinnamon... cumin / coriander
skinned powder atooms...

all this life assured...
      all this life preserved...
then some artifact from this realm
of the crustacean-caucasian...
not a cocky-asian in sight...
a different mind-boggling...
                  intro... duct.... ion...
                
beside this or that frankenstein:
shtein or a lack: thereof...
                 good for me that i'm not in
the business of replicating an argument...
or having... shaved open to not question...
blank canvases of d.n.a. paint
of a child... it's a good thing i don't have a child
at my disposal: i wouldn't want it
to ingest the... poison i've come
to inherit from the world...
and that's best: when raising children...
to leave them lacking:
in a wordly experience...
             but i'd come out as a psychopath
psychoanalyst gimmick of jung / freud...
         an r. d. laing looking at some
edvard hopper...
    
                              the russian solo project...
the french: where is france...
the duchy of warsaw and... the PRL?
            it's not so much playing the victim...
but when...
it took... as much time...
to conquer poland...
   at the advent of world war II...
by both **** germany and soviet russia...
it took more time to conquer poland
at the advent of world war II
than it took to conquer france...
         says as much as: it doesn't say any more:
than the least!
colonial power: powdered high tier:
trade-offs of... hair-gimmicks...
bulletins of wigs...

                     this has been enough...
i'm the former soviet satellite: east german...
retardo phillipo prima perfecto...
of: what argument one shouldn't have...
this was an "argument"?
                and the west: is still the best!
it's that... lesson in rhetoric...
                it's that lesson of:
the general populace is guided by the peacock
square loot of: pretending to fathom
the godhead of civility:
where... everyone... every... one...
is wearing... the... crown!
                        
who's being lectured... and who's...
the protected "class" of citizentry?
                      who's the token and who's
to be made an example of?
                 well... at such times... at such parodies
of humour...
the world does burn...
  but i'm not... going to succumb to a voice...
that echoes: the populist poets of
sycophancy...
somehow! "they" now have a voice!
yes... drunk from an ad hoc / post hoc populism!
they have a voice, now...
        i don't like populist poetics...
either neither right nor left leaning
politico-poetics...
   riddling the ride of sycophancy...
                  
              and that i have drunk and...
written this: square sober...
      that's my affair of conscience...
                 here's some broken glass...
here's a broken mirror...
and here's xerxes... extinguishing his mind...
asking for the sea to be whipped...
the sea! if he asked for the lake
to be whipped... genesis mirror... exegesis...
sea... how can you whip something
into submission... when a said thing
only submits to chaos?
putting a stick into a river...
and asking it to turn around...
                 the change the current...
             and somehow people still cite...
and laugh at... nebuchadnezzar II...
when... laughing at Xerxes is almost reserved for
people with the audacity to usher a said:
reference to the hebrew god:
wet with tongue and saliva and...
the gnashing of teeth: as if... taking a bite...
of lamb sinew!