Drip, drip, drip…
The sound of blood
Falling from his nose
And pattering softly
Against the white basin of the sink:
Explosions of intense red
Against a blinding white.

Breaths ragged and short,
Lungs burning,
As if iron bands
Are compressing his ribcage,
Crushing the air
From his chest
With each sob,
Each breath he takes.

Remembering the beating:
A crack against his jaw;
Stars bursting before him
And flooding his vision
With red and gold and orange.

Thoughts ringing through his mind:
My name is Takumi;
Taka, Taka Moore.
As he clutches the basin,
Feeling the steel cold
Biting deep into his flesh,
Razor sharp and icy.

Spinning,
Stumbling,
Falling through the air.
A punch to the stomach
Robs him of his breath,
Leaving him gasping for air,
Helpless,
Winded,
Stranded.

Why are they hurting me?
What do they want?
He is a freak,
A freak of nature –
Worthless, unloved, dirt.
I am worthless;
i am a freak.

He doesn’t want to catch a glimpse,
A glimpse of himself in the mirror
And into the grim portal of reality.
But he slowly lifts his head
And gaze to his reflection.

With his eyes,
He traces his uncontrollable black hair,
Sticking up in all places
No matter how much he wets it;
Then his eyes:
Slightly almond shaped,
Stormy and dark,
Filled with a never ending sadness –
Shimmering and brimming over with tears.
Cheeks shining with tears
As they fall
Silent and quick.

“Taka?”
A voice – Hayato’s.
There he stands in the doorway:
Light brown hair ruffled
His eyes, with the faintest almond shape,
Wide: shock, fear?
“Taka, what happened?”

Hayato…
Why did you have to walk in on me like this?
To see me
So beaten?
So defeated?

Silent,
Mute,
Taciturn.
He can only stare
As the tears fill Hayato’s eyes.
His face convulsing and contorting
As he fights back the sobs.

“Taka, who did this to you?”
Hayato:
So small yet so strong
With a fiery determination
To fight with love for his big brother.
His helpless big brother.

Clutching the basin
As if clinging for dear life.
Taka doubles over.
“No one,” he whispers,
Forcing his vocal chords to work.
Shame and humiliation
Burning his cheeks.
“No one that you know.”
He cannot let anyone
Hurt Hayato,
Lay a finger on him,
Not even a hair.
But not like this –
This fragile and pathetic form.

A hand on his shoulder -
Hayato’s hand –
His warmth and support.
“Why won’t you tell me?
Please, Taka, tell me.
Who were they?
Did you fight back?”

A shake of the head,
Violent and brief.
“No, Hayato,
If I did, I could face suspension,
Then all my dreams
Would be shattered in that one instant.”

A silence settles upon the two,
Blanketing them
And immersing them for a few moments,
Before it is finally shattered:
“Taka…”
Hayato’s voice, ringing in Taka’s ears.

“Hayato,” Taka’s voice:
Immediately slicing through Hayato’s words.
Blunt and cutting to his own ears.
Suddenly powerful,
Filled with a newfound determination.
“I have a favour to ask you.”

A sniff
And more tears falling.
Hayato nods his head.
Good.
Taka is glad.

“Please, Hayato…”
He can hear his voice breaking already,
Cracking in that fleeting moment.
His eyes wide,
He looks up,
Hands trembling
As the tears course down his cheeks.
And the emotions overwhelm him:
Agony, sadness, anger and desperation.
His body racking with sobs.
“Teach me to be normal!”

Sa paglakaw niining mga gabon
sa kalangit-on
Sama sa isa ka pagbaklay kauban ka
padulong ngadto sa kalipayon
Ang bidlisiw sa adlaw kanunay
gayud sa atoa nga magasiga
Kay ikaw sa tunhay mao
ang akong gugma.

Wala ko namatyagan nga ikaw mubaot
niining akong kinabuhi
Wala ko usab damha nga ang akong
kasing-kasing sa imo diay mulingi
Karon, ang dagat dili
na hintawon parat
Kay ikaw man ang akong gugma, busa dili
gayud tika ipahilak.

Ang matag-gabii nako, karon dili
na matugnaw
Mahitungod sa imong gugma nga sa tanan
gayud nagpatigbabaw
Ang gubot nga butang ginabag-o mo,
ikaw ra gayud akoa
Ug ikaw ginahigugma ko kagahapon, karon
og hangtod sa ugma.

Sa mainit mo nga mga gakos, sa matam-is
**** mga halok
Sa maanyag **** pagngisi, mawagtang
diritso ang akong pagkalagot
Gikinahanglan taka sama sa hangin,
tubig ug uban pa
Kay ikaw sa tunhay mao
ang akong gugma.

Dili na ako mulambinggit pa ngadto sa
uban nga dalan
Kay nagakuyog naman kita nga nagalakaw
nganhi sa kahangturan
Paminawa ang tanan ko nga gipangsulti
kay tinuod kani sila
Nganong mamakak man lugar ako, nga ikaw man
sa tunhay mao ang akong gugma.

"Ilabas ninyo ang kuya namin!" sigaw ni Mon.

"KUYA! Kami to mga kapatid mo!" sigaw naman ni Jef.

Halos magambala na ang mga kapitbahay sa kalye Casa dahil sa ingay ng pagsisigaw ng magkakapatid. Mahigit sampung taon na rin nilang hinahanap ang kanilang nakatatandang kapatid. At may nakapagsabi sa kanilang nasa kalye Casa lamang ito at kasama ang tunay nitong mga kapatid.

"Anong problema ninyo ha? Nakakaistorbo na kayo sa kabilang at sa kalye rito. Sino ba hinahanap niyo ha?" lumabas ang isang matangkad na lalaki at nagsalita sa kanila.

"Alam naming nandito ang kuya Regie naman. Ilabas niyo siya!" sigaw ni Mon.

"Walang Regie dito. At sino kayo? Ni hindi ko nga kayo kilala e," sagot ni ng lalaki.

"Kilala ka namin at ikaw ang nakatatandang kapatid namin. Magkakapatid tayo sa ama. Ikaw si kuya Ryan," wika ulit ni Mon.

"Ah ganun ba? Bakit hindi ko yata alam? Sino bang tatay ang tinutukoy mo?" takang-taka ang mukha ni Ryan nang sabihin nito na magkapatid daw sila sa ama.

"Hindi ikaw ang sadya namin dito. Ilabas mo ang kuya namin!" wika ni Jef. Agad siyang nakipagpatintero upang makapasok sa loob ng bahay. Pero napigilan ito ni Ryan.

"At anong karapatan mo, ninyo na pumasok sa bahay ko? Kayo ba ang may-ari?" mataas na ang boses ni Ryan nang mga sandaling iyon pero nanatili pa rin siyang mahinahon dahil ayaw niyang gumulo pa. "Ang mabuti pa ay umuwi na lang kayo. Walang Regie dito. Nagkamali kayo ng pinuntahan."

"Hindi kami aalis dito. Alam naming nasa loob ang kuya namin. Ilabas niyo siya?" nagpupumilit pa rin si Mon at bigla na lamang niyang iwinaksi ang kamay ni Ryan na nakaharang sa pintuan ng kaniyang bahay. Hindi naman hinayaan ni Ryan na makapasok ito at doon ay ibinuhos na ang kaniyang galit.

"SUBUKAN NINYONG MAGPUMILIT PA NA MAKAPASOK! Ipapa-barangay ko na kayong lahat!" halos kita na ang mga ugat sa leeg ni Ryan sa pagsigaw nito sa kanila. Pero hindi pa rin natinag ang magkakapatid.

"Wala kaming pakialam kung iyan ang gusto mo!" bulyaw naman ni Mon.

Magsisimula na sana ang matinding kaguluhan sa pagitan ni Ryan at ng magkakapatid nang isang boses ang kanilang narinig.

"Sino ba ang hinahanap ninyo ha?" wika nito at mula sa likuran ni Ryan ay nakita nito ang kaniyang kapatid na inaalayan ng isa pa niyang kapatid. Mangiyak-ngiyak naman ang magkakapatid na Mon at Jeff nang makita ang pakay nila.

"Kuya! Kuya Regie!" magkasabay na tawag nila sa pangalan nito.

"Sinong maysabi sa inyo na lapitan ang kuya Ron ko ha?" sigaw naman ng isang binata na nakaalalay kay Ron.

"Hayaan mo muna sila Anghel," saway nito sa kapatid na patuloy pa rin sa pag-aalay kay Ron.

"Kuya, ako ito, si Mon at kasama ko si toto Jef. Kuya, miss ka na namin. Uwi na tayo, please!" nang mga oras na iyon ay nanatiling walang emosyon si Ron sa mga salitang kaniyang naririnig.

"Hindi ako si Regie at lalong hindi ako ang kuya ninyo. Wala akong kapatid na Jeff at Mon. Anghel lang at kuya Ryan ang mayroon ako. Kaya, pakiusap umalis na kayo rito!" wika ni Ron.

"Kuya, bakit? Ano ba ang nangyari? Anong ginawa niyo sa kuya namin ha?" nagtatakang tanong ni Mon nang mapansin sa iisang direksyon lang ito nakatingin.

"Bulag ang kuya Ron namin. Naaksidente siya. Kaya kung maaari ay lisanin niyo na ang bahay namin dahil hindi ito makabubuti sa kaniyang pagpapagaling. Pakiusap," sagot ni Anghel.

"Kuya. Alam naming ikaw iyan. Ikaw si kuya Regie namin. Ikaw ang tumulong sa amin nang mga oras na kailangan ka namin at nandito na kami upang kami na ang mag-alaga sa iyo. Please bumalik ka na sa amin. Nakikiusap kami kuya Regie. Kuya Ryan, payagan niyo na po kaming iuwi kuya namin," parang gripong sunod sunod sa pag-agos ang mga luha ni Mon.

"Walang isasama! Hindi niyo siya kuya. Kuya namin siya! Umalis na kayo rito!" bulyaw ni Anghel. Naitulak ni Anghel si Mon at muntik na itong matumba. Nang makabawi ay sinuntok niya si Anghel sa mukha at nakipagsuntukan na rin ito kay Mon. Pilit namang nakikinig at nakikiramdam si Ron sa mga pangyayari.

"ITIGIL NINYO 'YAN!" sigaw nang sigaw si Ron pero tila walang nakakarinig. Panay naman ang awat ni Jef at Ryan kina Mon at Anghel. Hindi na nakatiis si Ron at muli itong sumigaw.

"TITIGIL KAYO O AKO ANG AALIS!" lahat ay napalingon kay Ron at maagap na bumalik si Anghel sa tabi ng kaniyang kuya upang pigilan ito.

"Sorry, kuya," pagpaumanhin ni Anghel.

"Kayong dalawa, Jeff at Mon, pakiusap. Ayaw ko ng gulo. Umuwi na kayo dahil walang Regie sa pamamahay na ito. Hindi ko kayo kilala at lalong wala akong matandaang tinulungan ko kayo bago pa ako maaksidente. Kaya, umuwi na kayo!"

Hindi naman nakapagsalit sina Jef at Mon. Mabibigat ang mga paang nilisan nila ang bahay na iyon na patuloy pa rin sa pag-iyak dahil nabigo silang iuwi ang kanilang kuya Regie.

Habang papalayo naman ang magkapatid ay doon na bumigay si Ron at hindi na napigilan ang pag-agos ng kaniyang mga luha. Ang totoo ay kilala niya sila ngunit ayaw na niyang matali pang muli sa nakaraan. Masaya na siyang malaman na ang kaniyang mga step brothers ay nasa mabuti nang kalagayan. Kahit sa kaloob-looban ng kaniyang puso ay sabik din itong mayakap sila pero naipangako niya sa kaniyang sarili na kalimutan na niya ang kaniyang pinagmulan at ang mga taong naging bahagi ng kaniyang nakaraan. Nais niyang ituon na lamang sa kaniyang tunay na mga kapatid ang pagmamahal na hindi niya naiparamdam sa mga ito buhat nang sila ay nawalay sa isa't isa.

Wala ko gihandom nga ikaw makit-an
     ning mga mata
Ug wala usab ko gihandom nga ikaw
     higugmaon ko pa,
Kay ikaw wala ko nahigustuan
    niadtong mga panahona
Ug sa dihang naibog man nuon ko nimo
     karon sa pagsobra-sobra.

Bidli man paminawon, apan kini
     mao mo'y tinuod
Tinuod pa sa unsang kamatuoran, wala man
     unta ni sa sugod:
Ug sa dihang karon pa na ko
     nahibaw-an nga ikaw diay
Ang bugtong kalibutan ning mga tiil
     ko nga gibaklay.

Apan ikaw usab langit ug ako
     usa lamang ka yuta;
Apan ikaw lisod tawon abton
     niining mga kamota
Ug sa dihang asa man ko
     karon nga mulugar,
Kay gikinahanglan pa ang tanan
    ko nga isugal?

Ug sa dihang gugma nga dili unta
     sama sa giatay;
Kung ikaw maako ug ako maimo,
     dili ka gayud magmahay:
Pagahigugmaon taka hangtod
     sa walay kahangturan
Kay ikaw pud usa ka dyamante
     nga tunhay nga handumanan.

Ikaw ra ang naa niining akong
     utok ug dughan,
Ug bisan pa'g uklabon mo wala
     nay lain, wala nay uban
Kay ikaw usa ka babaye nga lisod
     gayud pangitaon ug ilisdan;
Ug sa dihang magapaabot na lamang
     pud ko nga ako usab imong makit-an.

Soulful interludes Cento Taka

Walk up a country lane to farmhouse darkness the finesse the true an deep point of navigation everything bathed held in quiet glory
Become the farmer go to the fields at first light let the machinery flow through your eye gate steel formed with lines of brute power
Rubber round the glide across richest black soil these fields so common quickly turn from spurious to immeasurable splendor as told
In the farmer’s heart as he stands on his porch looks into this six foot stand dark brooding stretches endlessly away its volume weighs
On his soul as it comes in great waves into his consciousness the finest feeling of accomplishment brightness his face well done Cloyce
Gatewood you left a lot behind as you passed from this green productive land

Purposely walk along the streets of the big apple no senses it can’t activate music your taste go on a quiet early evening slip in unseen
To the concert hall look on from the shadows as the master opens the case tenderly and lovingly takes out the violin you will hear
Sounds that can only be formed in dreams it’s not possible in the realm of those that are awake you will hear the spruce plate and the
maple ribbing create such acoustic sounds only sounds of tears gently coursing that only God can hear are brought forth from the bow
And the strings take caution lean on something or set or you could fall from weak legs and a mind and heart to full overloaded with
Beauty the master uses outward physical means to bring and evoke the music of his hidden soul thank you Johann Sebastian Bach.
Or perhaps your interest lies in art paints and canvass art shows abound museums house every piece imaginable the higher beauty
Of New Mexico and its desert shapes not found on the surface no need to worry Georgia O Keefe went from these very streets her
Vision her eye that looked beyond barren waste made the desert flower before it biblical time that it bud as a rose when the prince
Shall come by the way happy birthday great prince on that note maybe your taste runs in ancient musty yesterdays the master piece
Of Rembrandt he stalked the world as a lion his brush his power his strokes exude genius timeless wonder captured executed with
Deftness enthralling praise of the crowd still is heard well at least in sweetest whispers it is a museum you know.
Great writing telling lines your delight book stores out number restaurants food for the mind far greater than the temporal treats
Consumed and then soon forgotten No man is an island John Donne (1572-1631). … "All mankind is of one author, and is one volume;
When one man dies” or the words of Henry David Thorough “most men live quiet lives of desperation”
Maybe you’re the outdoors man leave the soul of a city that flows back and forth from divine true heart and goodness to a city noted
As a volcano the pressure intense at times that’s the cost of greatness well walk among the redwoods john Muir possessed the good
Sense to set this treasure aside in fact a Golden gate is at one end of Muir Woods the Barbary Coast its greater cloak that defines
Beauty through breath taking sites cliffs that rise and border the pacific waters, detailed by a Salinas resident you might have heard of
His two stories Cannery Row Grapes of Wrath and several others made John Steinbeck an American literary giant not bad for great
Outdoors men well this completes my Cento salute. Authors and masters who elevate us all.

Usa ka bulan na ang nilabay
Sukad sa unang pag like nako sa imohang profile,
sa kamingaw sa kadlawn,
namasin lang nga makakaplag
ug babay mga susama nimo kaayag,
Akong kasakit, kagool, ug kalaay
Napulihan ug mga ngisi ug kalipay, pagkakita nako sa imong reply
Nakaingon jud ko ato ba "Ayay kini din.a jud ko mag sanaol nay ka chat😂"
Sa kamobo sa imong mga reply,
Wala ko ga huna² nha wala ka ganahi ug maong ako nisuway,
Nagpangayo ug account kay lagi mag personal message kunohay😂,
Pero sa tinud anay ,
Ganahan lang ko makakita ug uban pa nimo mga hulagway,

Samtang nagkataas ug  nagkadugay,
Akong nabati nga kitang duha nagkadevelopay,
Bisan ug tuod ako kanimo dle man takos ug angay,
Gidawat mo ang gugma ko sa walay pag dugay²,

Niabot ug pila ka adlaw nag inilisday ug nagIloveyouhay,
Bisan pag mga walay label ug wala gani callsign o tawganay,😂

Ug karon kay sumad nga adlaw,
Gikan adtong ako imohang gisugot ug gidawat,
Bisan tuod medyo mobo ra ang paghulat,
Worth it na kaayo ang tanan karun nga ako imoha na nga gidawat,
Magsaulog ta ug maglipay,
Pasensya kana kaayo intawn pinalangga
nga kung karun wala pa akoy madalit kanimo ug maihatag,
Isip regalo man o Gasa nga magtimaan sa akoang paghigugma,
Magtimaan sa pagpasalamat nga kita niabot sa usa ka bulan nga sumad,
Pero puhon ayaw kabalaka,
Basin deay kung kitay paboran sa panahon ug makakwarta,
Dle ko na gyud ikalimtan,
Ang mupalit ug mangita ug gasa nga kanimo akoang ihalad,
Kinasing kasing nga pilion para kanimo ihatag,

Bisan tuod usahay ako saputon,
Mutapol ug dle naka ganahan sampiton,
Pasensya na ka gusto lang gyud cguro ko nga ako napod ang lambingon,
Salamat kaayo sa pagka masinabtanon,
Salamat pod sa imong pagkamatinud.anon,
Bisan toud medyo ulaw ka usahay sa imong gusto isulting mga pulong,
Usahay man Maga duha² ka pero magpadayon,
Salamat sa gugma nimong gidalit,
Hinaot unta nga dle ka mausab o mawagtang ug pinakalit,
Kapoya na baya sigeg pangita ug pamugos
Akong love story murag salida,
Sige nalang pod ug balik balik ang eksina,
Malipay sa makadiyot pero mahugno napod ig abot sa pila lang ka simana,

Pasensya naka sa akong nahimong balak,
Wala nako nasayud kung sakto ba ang tanan nakong gipangsuwat,
Ahh basta kay naay magkaparehas nga
Words ang katapusan😂

Pero kini lang gyud ang dapat nimo timan.an

Magpabilin tikang higugmaon ug halaran,
Ako mahimo nimong taming ug hinagiban,
Bisan tuod ako gamay man ug lawas,
Andam ko ikaw nga panalipdan sa tanan oras,
Kinabuhi ug kusog alang kanimo lang,
akong kasingkasing imoha ra kanunay
Saligi pod nga kining gugma ko diha kanimo kay tinud.anay,


Karon, boot nako isulti sa imoha pag usab
Na ako, dili magbag-o sa akong mga saad
Dili teka biyaan, tinood ni walay sagol ilad
Ubanan taka ug dili nako buhian ang imong mga palad.
Dungan natong kab.oton ang tanan natong  mga damgo,
Puhon anh atong saulogon kay ang atoa nang mga anibersaryo.
Ug unta puhon magpabilin gihapon,
nga ikaw ug ako❤️.

Kaibigan?
Ka-ibigan?
Kai-bigan?

Ano nga ba tayo?

Dalawang taong hinapo na ng mga karanasan sa pag-ibig,
Dalawang taong pinili ang isa’t-isa,
Dalawang taong nais maging isa.

Ngunit ano nga ba tayo?

Pinasaya,
Binigyan ng oras,
Kinantahan ng mga lirikong nakaaantig ng puso,
Pinangakuan ng kung anu-ano sa ilalim ng buwan,
Na tila ba ngayon ay para bang iginuhit na lamang sa tubig.

Kinuha mo ang puso ko,
Pero gusto ko lamang linawin,
Hindi ko ninais na ipalit mo ang iyo sa akin.
Pero para bang ginago ako ng tadhana,
Itinakbo mo ang puso ko palayo—
Palayo sa’kin, nang hindi lumilingon.

Ipinagsawalang bahala ko ang sakit na naramdaman,
Nagbulag-bulagan sa mga bagay na malinaw sa aking paningin.
Pinilit burahin ang masasamang ideyang namumuo sa aking isipan,
Umaasang mali ang lahat ng sakit na ipinagkikibit-balikat ko lamang.

Totoo nga,
Madaya ang kapalaran.

Nakakatawang isiping
Sa loob ng isang buwan,
Kaya **** mainlove.
Pero, nakakagago din isiping,
Sa loob ng isang buwan,
Kaya ka rin nyang iwanan.

Sa bagay, ano nga ba tayo?
Wala naman, diba?

Maaaring ihanay mo lamang ako sa mga babaeng pinaasa mo,
Na marahil pagdating ng panahon,
Malilimutan mo rin kung ano ang namagitan satin,
Na siguro sa paningin mo’y pang landian lang pala ako, hindi pang seryosohan.

Hindi ako yung tipo **** babae,
Hindi ako matalino,
Wala akong political stance,
Hindi ako kagandahan.

Ano nga bang kataka-taka dun?
Walang dapat ikasakit dahil
Hindi mo naman ako tipo kaya hindi mo ko sineryoso.

Walang tayo,
Hindi rin tayo magkaibigan.
At lalong hindi magkasintahan.

“Almost”, yun tayo.

Halos
   Halos naging tayo.
   Halos umabot na ko sa punto na mamahalin kita ng buo.
   Halos napaniwala mo kong mahal mo ko.
   Halos napaniwala mo kong kamahal-mahal ako.
   Halos napaniwala mo kong karapat dapat akong pahalagahan.
   Halos bigyan mo ko ng oras mo.
   Halos naramdaman kong sincere ka.
   Halos araw-araw kung hanapin kita.
   Halos minu-minuto kung tingnan ko ang cellphone ko para lang maghintay ng reply mo.
   Halos ikaw na lang ang marinig ko pag naririnig ko yung mga kanta sa radyo na inawit mo sakin.

Halos ikaw na lang yung hanapin ng puso ko sa bawat saglit na hindi kita nararamdaman.

Halos.

transcript from a cult movie

bolec: O! zobacz bracie! spójrz jak oni sie ruszają; nie sądisz że polskim chłopakom też by sie przydało troche luzu? przykómaj te kocie ruchy! mogliśbymy sie od czarnych wiele nauczyć... koko-dzambo i doprzodu! to moje hasło, dobre nie? czasami żauje że nie urodziłem sie czarny. hej! chłopaki! a może macie ochote objerzeć film? ja ogłądam po kilka filmów dziennie: pościgi, strzelaniny, wojny gangów, to mój chleb codzienny... mam nowy zajebisty film... "smierc w Wennecji", nieźle brzmi, co?                spokojnie, zaraz sie rozkręci...

fred: ty jak ty sie nazywasz bo zapomniałem? kolec? stolec?

bolec: bolec.

fred: no, więc posłuchaj mnie teraz uważnie, bolek... byłeś w stanach?

bolec:  nie...

fred: no właśnie... a ja znam kogoś kto był... i opowiedział mi to i owo... w iesz skąd przyjechali czarni do ameryki?!?

bolec:  z afryki...

fred: no właśnie... handlarze niewolników przywieźli ich z Afryki... A myślisz, że to taka prosta sprawa wysiąść na plaży w Afryce, złapać w siatkę zwinnego, silnego murzyna i wywieźć go za ocean?!?

bolec:  chyba nie...

fred: no jasne, że nie... udało im się to zrobić ponieważ wywozili tylko takich co albo nie potrafili spierdolić przed siatką, albo byli największymi głąbami z plemienia i wódz sprzedawał ich za paczkę fajek, bo i tak nie miałby z nich pożytku. i ci wszyscy nieudacznicy pojechali do ameryki. pożenili się, porobili dzieci... świat poszedł do przodu... pojawiły się komputery, amfetamina, samoloty, ale co z tego, jeżeli ich serca pompują tę samą krew, są potomkami człowieka, który na własnym podwórku dał się złapać w siatkę, więc nie uważam, że naszym chłopakom brakuje luzu... kapujesz?!?

and it takes just another big **** to have a one night stand,
and a big enough heart to have a relationship
so the soul enmeshes the juices - that famous
W.D. 40 moment - and a cheap U.B. 40 moment too -
it's a drag like that, he can run a 100 metres in under
10 seconds, but when he swims you just hear
dolphin cackling in the background - not **** aqua
for sure, that's me, with the myth of Atlantis -
orderly, please! line up! take your badges and disperse,
we'll be back here again at the fire-evacuation point
in the the near future - in the meantime do whatever
it is you do, and do it. shame really - you ever see
the fire equipment of 1666? a large water bucket...
people either had a lot of common sense back then
or had magnanimous airs about them
(see how many lawsuits were made in the past decade),
primitive technology - i guess people thought a lot
back then... no talk of dementia - they were hardly literate
but they thought a lot, becoming literate meant
becoming aristocratic degenerates - excess wine, *******
***, scab and crawling ***** on the cranium
intended as barbers - then too many synonyms came,
you said barber and he knew the beard and moustache
was an extension of the head - sure, softer keratin, the harder
version being - i've ***** on my face! i've ***** on my face!
short and briskly - freshly mowed lawn... mm, nice -
fiddle the other part, i'll take a Sikh's beard and make a
violin's bow on the sly - see how Mozart sounds after
that. the Mongol stank and conquered the Alexandrian
Dream - before the arrows pierced, the stench overpowered.
it's just a dreaded affair - in order to give pleasure
i have to give my inner life up - the Greeks called it
barbarism the over way round - words from a *******
as if implying i get really jealous and bring out a knife -
the wonderful phenomenon of the schizoid condition,
or as prior worded, premature dementia, yet such people
continue to be fully functioning in a sense -
language debris - a meteor's tail - politicised psychiatry -
the easy route - say the noun hammer and you know
exactly what to do, unless it's Heidegger's hammer
and you realise he's implying two labourers talking
philosophy while working manually - in that
the ego (nail) should be hammered into a plank
of wood (thought) as easily as the reverse - the reverse
being the hammer (extended into the profession that
uses it frequently - i, carpenter) utilised (being, a) -
i.e. i, being a carpenter, nails, hammering in.
i didn't think this through - what's bugging my certainty
in how to explain it without conversation between
two carpenters discussing philosophy, which never happens,
is not what i'm bothered with, the real issue is i have
with the inherent negativism of subjectivity in English
interpretation of philosophy, crudely:
subjectivity is bad, wrong, self-indulgent, pseudo -
this stress in English thinking with its glorification of
objectivity is, to be honest, strange...
it comes from a book review of Wagner's Ring of
the Nibelung - equatable words: banal and subjective -
banal - trite - well given the "success of the human species"
i'm surprised it's not a universal truth that
we've come a bit trite given the numbers - i've seen
cucumbers fresher than people, we're bound by
an approximate of 70 springs, cucumbers are bound
by 1 spring, you get fresh in a supermarket,
you don't get fresh in books, what with the third butterfly
species σκoνιςμυγα (skonismyga - so not -muga?
up Saigon? i thought you cut off the bits you didn't
want and put the other letters with the cut offs together?
no wonder - upsilon [u] isn't said - just like in Latin
in English we have why - iota not y - dust-fly, i guess
Babylon did survive, in the variations disguising "dyslexia")...
but why is subjectivity so horrid? i thought
we all had our take on things and none of us wanted
to speak for the whole of humanity? Nietzsche warned
and defended individualism like that - who
would want to speak for the entirety of humanity?
in the political realm in the west subjectivity is defended
rigorously - because if you begin championing objectivity
in politics the Iraq Invasion was a bit stupid -
despotism, d'uh - yet in England the tradition is to
have a culture of literature that shuns subjectivity
and champions objectivity - why is subjectivity so
negatively perceived? oh, you're afraid someone is
so ardent on their choice of interest they they might
by accident speak-spit into your face?
subjectivity can't be so ****** negative, it's an expression
of an escape from what objectivity already
defined in the pinnacle by Descartes: res cogitans,
(a) thinking thing - we only write subjectively because
we've been caged in that little no. 2 of a waiter's james
bond tux - we staged an escape, a self-worth fanaticism
on the subjects we love rather than "have to" investigate
without passions, just hubris - which is what
critics use - hubris, disdain - the study of language could
have a similitude to the math of
1 (hubris) and x 1 = hubris, 1 and x 2 = audacity, etc.
in the synonymous table - the lubricant factor.
so, anger over, back to Heidegger's hammer -
nail (ego)            plank of wood (thought)
hammer (therefore)                   a table (existence) -
so why need proofs? why do i need to prove i necessarily
exist (when i don't) or that god unnecessarily exists
(when he does) - why prove something?
so another million schmucks can come along and
prove it either way? it's the nonsense attributed to
Descartes - he stressed an impossible objective-subjectivity
(grammatically more understandable, rigid:
noun-noun doesn't work, ah, objective-subjectiveness -
noun-adjective, pencil-sharpener, pencil-needs-sharpening)
in terms of others - hence the existential other -
well impossible for anyone else to have thought it up,
the impasse of wanting to plagiarising it - a real cul de sac -
well, that's me done on the topic - sonic -
as far as i'm concerned most people keep rigidity
a tight collar of using language not coming across a speedy
suggestion to not think about:
the speed-game of preposition juggling and contras etc.,
the acquisitive use of a language v. the inherited use of a language,
two different ballparks - what i acquired i thus express,
what the organically-historic entity inherited he
will primarily convene to call Poles vermin - a little
perplexed by a more labyrinth style of language used -
it gets personal day by day - but of course the ******* are
a protected species due to their colonial roots - at least
with skin-shallow discrimination you have the obvious bang,
and the immediate retort... this **** is swelling, slowly...
slowly... slowly... those were 8 million or so
Polish-Jews... also vermin... this **** already imploded...
it hasn't exploded... it's a dummy bomb... it imploded...
it's swelling... slowly... slowly... slowly... and when you
won't know it... BANG!

b-dumm dumm
b-dumm dumm
b-dumm dumm
b-dumm dumm tchka ta weh...
tchka tchka tchka b-dumm

dumm dumm tchka tsk dumm tchka tish
dumm dumm tchka tsk dumm tchka tash
dumm dumm tchka tsk dumm tchka dish
tsk dumm b-dumm dumm tchka dumm bash

b-dumm dumm tish tchka dumm dumm tash
b-dumm dumm tish tchka dumm dumm tash
boom boom boom tchka tchka dumm bash
dumm bash-bash, dm-bash bash, dm-bish

tchka tchka dumm dumm ting
boom boom tchka tchka dumm bash ting
shik shik shika tika tik tik ting
boom boom tchka shika boom ting bish

boom shika tchka boom bash boom ching
boom, b-dumm dumm tika tika tika ting
boom shika shika boom bish bash beng
tika tika tika dumm boom boom ting

boof.. ka tchka boom boom cha
b-boof boof ka tchka boom boom cha
boom boom ka tchka tchka boom tish
tchka tchka dumm tsk tsk (dubudu) kish

(dubudu) (dubudu) (dubudu) tish
(dubudu) (dubudu) dub dub tesh
(dubudu) (dubudu) (dubudu) tsk tchka dish
dub.. b-dub dub taka tchka ting

dub dub tchka tsk dumm tchka ting
dub dub tchka tsk dumm tchka tash
dub dub tchka tsk dumm tchka ting
dub dub dub, b-dub dub dub mmm
b-dub dub dub, b-dub dub dub mmm
b-dub dub dub, b-dub dub dub mmm
b-dub mmm dub
b-dub mmm dub
b-dub
b-dub
b-dummm

my mother got frisky with the publisher,
she danced latino
without a care, and gave her first interview
for my hometown newspaper...
the intro to my flashback of being 8 and leaving,
with inflation and with pepsi cola glass bottles
and spending most of my childhood
outside and not before a nitendo screen
shooting ducks...
picking up a ***** mag from the church being built,
chasing petted dogs near the gombrowicz river,
going into the forest and wiping my ***
with a leaf... when writing make some place
small big, bigger than you could have ever imagined...
make it bigger than you ever considered 6ft1
to be when aged 9...

i'm about to publish an entrée for the literati elite
with a fresh off the causeway book,
i became an ex-pat not being caribbean enough
who forgot their tongue and became encrusted
for the easiest integration of migrant tactics,
i forgot my slave tongue voodoo
and decided upon sunny english...
no problem then...
but with me i had too much history, too much pride,
my mother flies in to see her parents via warsaw...
i take it to be krakow originally...
i can integrate but you tell me to forget my tongue
i'll call you racist with linguistics... never, never!

e.g.?
w ramach swej kultury
zachód broni
w ramach swej kultury, zachód:
jak niby władza na wschodzie
jest prawdą taka sama:
władza broni go i dusi kulture,
no tak, zachód swym kabaretem i
płodnią rodzi nowego księdza,
a na zachodzie nowego komika -
który stanie mu na opór by żyd
nigdy nie mógł skorzystać -
mesjasz mojej dupy warunkiem
ten mesjasz prostata więzi podatku i ryb...
zachód karmi kulture która śmiechem
go wklucza, wschód jednak broni go
i karmi kulture głodem - jak ***** riot -
wschodem zachować święte jest
tłumaczone z zachodem jako święte nie piękne...
jak więc zachód karmi swą kulture na wschodowi...
igrek nad każdą kropke na konieć sentencji...
ja ameryka ja anglikaniń...
ale tak szczerze? chrystus ma lepszą muzyke
niż mojszerz czy też muhammad...
pieć razy la illah ila allah co dzień czy też
judasza sha shtill! pierw nad bach'a, beethoven'a
czy też mozart'a? nie wydaje mi sie.
bo i tak powiem krzywe słowo przeciwko jemu
jako niby tact dialektyki racji,
to nawet wtedy krzyż nadal będzie kwitł
prosto... czy nawet stanie się płonącym...

Moje serce się przelewa,
Bo mnie w kółko ktoś olewa.
Ciągle gine, to mnie zżera,
Taka smutna atmosfera.
To nie bajka, i nie płacze,
Tylko sobie ja tak kracze.

Au, jesteś jak złoto,
Ale chyba o tym wiesz pięknoto.
Forever alone, czy nie,
Zawsze będe kochał Cie.
Może zaczekam aż ktoś mnie znajdzie,
I może przy tym się sam odnajdzie.

Sa mundo, walang sigurado,
Hindi lahat sasang-sayon sa'yo,
Dahil di mo hawak ang 'yong kapalaran,
Nagpapahiwatig na wala kang katiyakan.

Hindi ko naman ipinagpalagay na ako,
Dahil di ko naman alam ang iniisip mo,
Ngunit nakitang matalinhaga,
Sa paningi'y kataka-taka.

Hindi naman ako ganyan ka gunggong,
Kasalanan bang magtanong?
Sa tingin ko, di naman siguro?
Hwag sanang isiping ganyan ako ka desperado.

Garo pirmi akong hinahapag
Kan hinangos ko
Pag nagdadalagan ako
Pasiring saimo
Dara-dara an balde nin pintura
Asin nag-aasa na mahiling ka
Ano daw kun aram mo man
An sakuyang namamatian
Pag nagrarani ako saimo
Para i-abot ining pinabakal mo
Na pintura na hali pa sa sentro
Ano daw kun padagos ****
Kulayan an buhay ko
Sana dai ka magpundo
Magpabakal sako nin dawa ano

Saro ka sa pinakamatibay na pintor
Kaya **** makagibo nin obra
Sa maski anong kolor
Tinawan **** kulay
An mabublay kong buhay
Iyo garo ito an ráson
kun tàno ika an pinili ko
Maski dakol na tao
An sigeng usióso
Bahala man sinda
sa buhay ninda
Bahala man kita
Basta padangat taka

—𝐔𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐨,  a Bikol poetry.

I can hear my steady breaths
Synchronised with the whirring of the fan.
My fingers tap the edge of the table in a rhythmic pattern
Tap, Tap, Tap,Tapa, Tap, tap.
My ears are finely tuned, eager to hear the crack of of the door as it swings open
To hear your rapid footsteps as you traipse in to greet me once more.
I showed up on time with a handful of flowers and an eager heart.

* 2 hours later

My palms swear profusely
As I pace nervously from one end of the room to another,
Tak, tak, taka, tak, tak.
The heels of my shoes click repeatedly against the wooden floor
As I sit and stand and walk and pace and move and race and STOP.

6 hours later *
I wait and wait and wait some more
My head is throbbing and my eyes are dull
My makeup has come off and my hair is undone.
But,my breath is steady again
And my fingers are still.
I trudge and linger and stall and sigh
The door creaks open and I walk out, head held high
Memories now forgotten, but my pride is intact and the flowers are rotten.

yo come home cut the tv on
and what did i see?
another ***** killed by
police brutality
in reality
them whites folks be
trying to dismissed real ****
sayin' "all lives matters?"
how when all i see is my peoples
blood shatter ?
on the pavement
injustices
cuz the system prejudice
only whites see justice
**** it
i roll blackwoods n shaking my head
with a corona in my right hand
clip close to my hip and
ya know im quick to rip **** up
I wish a cop would try to **** me up?
Ill bust till I emptyyy
my whole clip
just like they do to us
Quite dangerous but its a must
aint nothing changed since slavery
real ****** aint in the streets
just a bunch of fools rappin' on beats
i never beat my feet
im too old for that
so i prefer bustin' my gat
and puttin' popos on they back
check my raider hat
pushed backwards with a fat sack
ya know im strollin'.rollin'
through the yellowstone blvd
stay hard
from the streets of tre ward
we stay ready for war
so if ya local authorities
want beef
ill show ya beef
closed casket and a reef
no disrespect though
this just an brutal  honest scenario
how many funerals?
will ****** be in this year
no nation even droppin' tears?
and when we break out the fear
watch how many white folks clear
theyll come out the blue
The news be urgin u put it in a state of
emergency quick urgency
call the national guard
cuz blacks is on the guard
we gone wake up soon
and put amerikkkas in her tomb
Where she belongs
no more babies
just abortions deadening ****
im in love with seeing
dead critcs n politics
in a casket though raised a *******
this game i learned
I got mastered
no heart  from me though
let the rain pour
my lyrics make brains sore
as i bring the reign
guns bust ya know its bloodstains
Itll take at least 2 decades to drain
taka snort of *******
then im dippin' the scene
with an ounce of green n lean
too clean
for this story though
just lettin' ya know how i feel so
just know our time is commin'
like Baghdad I'll be bombin'
silence with violence
check the 100 round drum tommies hummin'
Uh what??

Akwai wani mutum da baya karya
A cikin al'amuransa baya karaya
A kowanne yanayi baya kada garaya
A duk wahala baya juya baya
A yanayin fushi baya jayayya
A cikin daji ya kan dauki kaya


Bashi da yaudara ko kifadi
Baya tsoron ta kife in ya fadi
Baya ja da baya wajen tadi
Baya tsoro ko da za'ayi shadi
Baya rowa wajen bada madi
Baya taka rawa duk dadin kidi


Cikakken adali ne **** kowa yabi
Cikin jama'a kuwa baya harbi
Cincirundon jama'a sunyi masa lakabi
Farar aniya laya sai muyi ta bi
Saboda yaja raganar kowa sai muyi tabi
Tafi-tafi dai GAWUNA kowa ya bi

gdzie wasze serca? na hawaiiach?
co, kurwa, serdeczne mi:
szkoda że cie tu nie
było na pocztuwce? o kurwa... hlups!
a gdzie wasze oczy?
               kurwa mać,
                                 na antarktydzie?
ty na wize-wize w głąb
    kapusty, czy w prost:
                              na czele marszem
                       w krąg znawy:
cebula, na setki pokrojona,
a potem w otchłan
                 tluszczu... smażona...
                taka to jebana krewetka;
  you have to the count of three
to create the missing graphemes
                        that already exist in
your tongue: cz, sz, rz...
diacritical marks will not save
cz (č), or sz with (š),
you already know the latter rz (ż)...
for ****'s sake...
         craft some decent graphemes
for "twin"-consonants.
w portki rżnąć... ******* their pants.
come on! create at least one
original grapheme,
akin to what the germans did with eszett...
                ß
       æ             œ
                ?                     let's have a mummy!

Chal paddi thi gaadi taka tak
Hawa shayad thoda zaada hi bhar diya
Befikri ka safar, aa pohoncha uss keel par
Tamasha, shayad thoda zaada hi bhar diya
Ab pahiya toh tha rubber ka hi
Humara kya isne kadar kiya
Gir pade hum, lag gayi chot    
Fir humare dard ne bhi asar kiya
Ab iss keel ko bhi hum kya koosein
Kambakht hai toh yeh lohe ka diya
Sadak se dosti ki aas hum hi laga baithe
Bhool gaye ki yeh toh hai bas ek zariya
Humne kaha kuch pal yahin bita lein
Puncture banane ka kaam fir shuru kiya
Pahiya toh fir bhi chal jayega janaab
Yeh reh jayega banke chhed,
Humne na kissi se kabhi zikr kiya

Ba ra'ayin ka bane
Ba ra'ayi na bane
Ba hange na bane
Ba hangen ka bane
Duniya ba taka bace
Lahira ba' a kauce
Cuta ta nesa ta arce
Ta sa kowa ya fece
Asibitoci an kwace
Kasuwanci ya fauce
Yan makaranta an sace
hancin kowa an face
A gida kowa ya kasance
Miji, yara har ma da mace
Domin nutsuwa kar a fusace

from the depths of a drunkenness that's melancholy:
the most sobering truths...

co to jest: świadomość -
to jest... narodziny pamięci...
i nie-pamięci tzn.: akt zapominiania...
w tym że człowiek się rodzi
w stanie pierworodnym:
a pierworodna świadomość
to "jedynie" najczystrza imaginacja:
co potem staje się:
zagmatwana, jako taka "druga"
za pomocą zmysłów:
nie jako ta piersza:
          czerpioną z świadomoś ci
samej-w-sobie...

nonwendigkeit:

not wrtten... but how a German might say it...
non-vendish-kyte...
or... sharpening the caron of the invisible S
entrapped in the G...
to a... nonwendiśkeit...
non-wendiś-kajt...

like... ich is also isch... which is also:
iść: to go... to walk...

NOT WHEN DIG KITE...
digging for kites?
or... Keats?
    
   no one serious, no matter of seriousness...
just sounds... encoding of sounds...
Hangul or hieroglyphics...
most certainly too much drinking...
oh: and a translation...

ha! if i were a Milan Kundera and wrote in Czech...
right... even if i wrote in German...
how many years later would
a translation arrive?
writing in ******...
ugh... the etymology... Slav...
the English imply the origin of Slav...
is labouring under a "lost" E...
hmm... should i start calling the Russians
for clarifications?
let's see...
   Slav has an etymological root in Turkic...
which Slavs? the Yugols?
the southern... Slavs?
you're all ******* Franks?!
Swabians?! are you? last time i heard we
ref. to ourselves as the remnants of
the Sarmatian inquisitiveness...
some... Iranian tribe... Aryans...
  
******* sputnik historians...
makes my blood boil...
little things... always the little things make one
into a ******...
punctuation marks... displaced...
i'm a pedantic beast...
Slav is derived from Slave for Turkic...
really?!
Słowianin... word-smith...
słowo: word...
     ANIN: you want to know the meaning?
having no master...
word without a master...
slav(e)... the English approach...
let's suppose...
secretly i'm rubbing my hands waiting
for the Scots & the Welshmen...
why? why... because i can...
because i will not be subjugated to
etymological dunces!

******* Western sling-shot targets...
Bristolians...
Devonshire pompous *******...
what are you... some ******* proto-German
with ambitions to make a history with
Anglo-Swabians?
the winged hussars of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth: no... didn't... no... n'ah...
didn't come to aid Vienna...
well... i was told to learn the history
of the Norman invasion...
& the life of Edward the Confessor...
whom i very much adored...
i can't bring my history to these isles...
my "tattooes"?
in the script it states:
black-African... black-Carribean...
but not anglo-slav...
sorry... ha ha! i "feel" discriminated!

******* English ***** thinking all Slavs were
slaves of the Turks... yeah... maybe...
the Serbs! the Balkan Slavs!
us western Slavs waged wars with the Ottomans...
now my barber is a Turk & i thank god no
ethnicity touches my ****** sprout...

see! the English stress their values...
i managed to call them: universal
on a ZOOM call...
sure... "universal"... but hardly without their own
fault... come... come one...
who's kidding who?
labouring under the strict obligation of discovering:
DISCOVERING... not learning...
history...  sure... up in Edinburgh...
the local are... ******* up in arms
with standardised Elizabethean English...
*****...
     pompous Derbyshire whittle boys!
toffs or wigs! either of them!
        i want to bark in a way that i might
spew a spare tooth!  ****'s sake... hark! hark!
i want to bite! i want to bark!
no... you don't spew etymological spoofs
and get away with it...
i'll just round up some Ukrainians...
some Russians...
Tartars & the Cossacks...

        it insults me... "thinking" that...
there's this clue of a... oh... "merely" a "missing" E...
to arrive at Slav from Slave...
blood... is... boiling... & i'm not even on the side
of the imbecile surrogates of marzipan C4
explosive vest quests...
my grievance is... eh... more personal...
no Iraq or Iran invoked...
    i like to watch...
i need to watch...

           i like... still life... decay...
     what once was fruit is now cider...
  you don't confuse etymology though...
i.e. where does the term German come from?
the man with the germs?
the sickly **** bring-along?
******* Anglo *****...
broken bonkers on their audacity...
always the prideful wankers...
they were & are... pandered prideful wankers!
i ****... but you couldn't tell...
these ******* stick of ***** wasted!
ugh!
  as much as i love them as much as i hate them!
hey! hey!

so... what's a windmill to a
pumpernickel?

pronoun neutrality in the plural...
what the **** happened to the ROYAL:
ONE & WE?
did that simply... "fizzly" put?
one might,
we were expected...
to hell with trans-gender grammatical rights!
what next?
trans-physics! then state it!
metaphysics & metaphor is a load
of *******,.. as is the thesaurus...
let's do... trans-physics...
i'm clueless as to how we'll begin...

i'll just check with the Russians...
the seem to be the most informed people...
i stopped looking at the setting sun...
when i started up a conversation
about... tortoises...
reiteration... between Tamil...
Hindi... you can speak perfect Hindi...
& Urdu is not some superiority zunge...

to the steppes with you!
tam! dalej! wio!
huca! tym rze! dawaj!
fio!

       pampered Englishman...
when were you last invaded?
ha ha... oh... right... your beginning of history...
so... Darwin was a... ahem.. a...
"mistake"?
ancient Rome knew of the **** similis...
they paid enough attention to it...
but not as much as might not be required...
sorry...
you might right: but only on the sly... with a slight...

i drink the DARK WATERS... the sharpshooter
liquid... whiskers without a cat! hey! you *******
meow i'll turn you into a ******* pear! face first! hey! hey

😄🦵

SLENDER LEGS

Ah !!! springs in your legs have you; jumping, charging, frisky like a little lamb !!!

Scamper n caper like a deer, legs slender n straight; ears like little horns !

Taka-Maka, the intoxicating *** from  Seychelles, that you are named after; that's exactly what you are!

Indeed, very intoxicating you are, profusely pouring out unconditional love onto us;

My "Slender Legs", a bundle of joy, energy, love n naughtiness all packed together; that's exactly what you are!!!

Ma loves you most dearly.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

🐶🐶🐶

INTOXICATING

Happy Birthday my two years old, my intoxication, my lil Brandy;

My darling Brandana, you sure are sweeter than any other sugar candy

And in intoxication, you are amazing; pun intended, my
"Nasheman" Brandy !

And boy oh boy ! Your stylish cat- walk; can put to shame, any rocking dandy;

And yet again, your lion like, (roaring) bark, frightening was, on that beach sandy.

We love you loads, my bathing beauty, my sweetie pie, cutie pie Brandy.

Mum, Dad, Bro, sisters Zoi n Taka n Maa