apparently there's a massive avocado
problem in australia,
flat like belgium,
sea cold as the north sea,
a massive jet-lag the only attraction,
stop-over where the chinese talk
in renminbi, cigarettes cheap (~£10
a carton), you hear the account
but never want to see the pictures,
just the words,
so a massive avocado problem, one avocado
costs $5 australian, a bottle of wine costs under
$3, odd, isn't it? a packet of cigarettes
costs ~$20... and you'd sooner see a koala pouch
and a wallaby... than an aboriginal man...
i guess it's like the story of the american indians...
a zoological curiosity, kept in a zoo that isn't a "zoo",
in some nature reserve dying from alcoholism,
what a pretty ivory face everywhere you turn,
what a pretty ivory face everywhere you turn
in belgian melbourne, a colonial city
with very little attractions except conformity
to the health service... sooner a bonsai kangaroo
(wallaby), or a koala, than an aboriginal man...
ah god's gift to the world, western european
ant-filled-underwear explorers...
what a zoological curiosity to place a koala pouch
above an aboriginal man...
and how debased the once famous teuton women
by roman account of warfare turned from
noble women ready to commit suicide rather than
be *****... ****** their image so often as to
provide the profession of **** actresses...
i'm loving it... i think i'll toast with the aboriginal men
a clear thought and boomerang the koala dead
for supper... or that's one interpretation
of a tourist's experience.
the inbetweeners only went there for butlins
water slides... i wouldn't even go there go there
for the weather... i'd go there to kickbox a kangaroo
and dance with the tasmanian whirlwind:
but all the shamans of the aboriginal folk are long gone,
and all the aboriginal drunks don't do what ivory
european drunks do: gamble and buy up ******...
they just sit on porches... with telepathic powers
igniting the aquaholic eucalyptus trees who from drinking
too much water... leave the sucklings of grass barren
as bush green... which is hue of stagnating green
into brown or yellow;
but the avocados are expensive... no avocado on toast
as the greenwich girl would like it to be...
too posh for baked beans on toast:
she says farting makes her hubby less of a hard-on;
i find that statement completely agreeable;
the biggest cultural shift though?
sushi... 1 piece of sushi oscillating at ~$3...
sushi and dolphins... match-up...
aussie aussie.... ahoy ahoy fuckjoy!

it's called: whenether you dare to call it infantile, that you start imagining people being serious about selling shoe-laces; or Korans.

even those, who you left to "live"
unto the age of 70 and past,
are asking, are asking themselves
whehter it has worth it...
            your arguments don't
scare me, they threaten me,
        and when someone
feels threatened:
             they react in
a natural tribunal of effort...
  when the arguments threaten
you fear confiscates
   the dire need of death
being an alpine promise...
      and the such...
you rob me of fear,
you instill a pragmatic of death,
like the Jew paid his alimony
  what the suffered under the **** crimes...
of course,
the numbers matter....
the Marshall plan in neutral Sweden...
              or what the Poles
    got with Communism...
Jew... barricades... barricades!
messerschmitt teuton krähe schwarzkreuze,
   love your neighbour as yourself:
that too died on the cross...
   and i was but a peasant in Warsaw,
and Warasaw was but a village...
                     something worth ******* on...
and it was the ****'s worth of geography
for merely being there.
       it's there... something akin to be odd...
               i have, oddly enough, no allegiance...
i'm bound to being dreamy...
          so called lazy...
   the next best thing...
                 right now the Jews matter,
i took no deutsche marks from the swabian schweine...
             the jews did...
               jews... they did...
                     blondas *kurva trop!
happy retirement and Hannukah...
you crass-case of albino...
                  alias neo-deutsche!
                          austrjak jebany palmą!
w głowe, jebudiet!
   Wengier! hu ha dusza, i świntosiek
                  duch, i iskra, i łamana
                          świca...
         serce mi da tą ziemie:
   i ja tą ziemie dam w cheć na
pogoń, zwane zając!

nie dla narodu, z kochanej, e, u, ro, py...
pierdole ten cyrk!
ja, niby, polok...
o to ten huj, iskra huja w pizdzie i pizde mi
na kilo jabłek potem wgryść, rozdać i sie
tylko śmiać... Jarkowski, jebany,
       Kowalski, zapomniany...
           Jazurelski: troche i coś odtąd nie tak...
czyli, ricochet, echom czy apropos?
         bo to cynic: prawde mę, to samo co prawde mlą.
hej stop to warto obgadać jako: gnój!
          i szmira, i obowiązek... niby...
   ale skupowisko nie-urzytków, tzn. słów...
rodzinka sie wkurwi na widow mnie!
    no, po prostu wkurwi!
              oj, hyba że ja ponowny Szo'pę,
i kres mego serca na łałel... via W unto V
or: Vienna.
                      as cheap as the joke can be made,
or as plastic and extending as it allows itself
to be...
             taaak, bluźnie:
        bo mi na pacierz nie wypada...
kler: zegnam sie, panie sługo... zegnam sie...
paciorek i tymianek... gówno wśród nas!
to wszystko przez
           braku ari de verci....    
  albo quo vadis -
              ryj!                 i gleba.

Mrs Merkel, fair and sturdy
Dour and doughty
High and mighty
Saviour of the sinking Euro
Female icon, Teuton hero
Stand up for our rights!.

Daughter of the old Republic
Proud and plumptious
Rarely bumptious
Quantum spousal and mechanics
Scourge of Grecian's and Hispanics
Onward from Berlin!

Lean upon the sturdy lectern
Softly spoken
Never broken
Deliver to the gathered masses
Words of warning and molasses
Deliver us from evil!

Target of the shocking Silvio
Chauvinistic
Almost mystic
While all things must come to pass
She's most certainly not a lard-***.
Gott mit Uns!

i too sat on a park bench invoking the stimulant -
having received none,
do or day, and the *** quill for
a bow: or literature for archery,
resembling replacement -
i just got bored
of people being fidgety with
my vocabulary; people, being
fidgety, with, my vocabulary,
because as i saw plum-coloured-bereaved skin,
i learned to yarn out a hark in a bull's belly...
(smacker above the jaw, underlining
their compensation arguments:
soft-toy mush people, acronym p.e.a.) -
or i in the vocabulary -
                     the spectre in the fog - akin....
hai Plato!                       or no Plato.
      as once was spoken of honour,
  i lived among children and machines...
i lived... among children and machines...
i swear to oath: my ******* have been
discarded... the woman has her sway in
what's desired, rather than what's expected:
                              **** ahoy!
**** ahoy! or the macabre niqab!
                                                sells you curtains:
two for one... believe me, i wasn't too keen
to keep them, have 'em Rotherham style...
             what, comes, after, is, up, to, Hollywood:
char and charcoal and later choke -
or what later became the dictionary -
and last... the poet: flusters of a feather
               encircling a grave to a torpedo
            pinpoint, as said:
                       the wriggling ostrich's head
out from the sand, precursor grave in ashen troughs -
       and together, prior and after:
                     Tao unto those yet to come
with the world as chisel and Teuton memory -
             and those of later expertise:
   the, last, forgotten, chasm, remembered, as, a, yawn.

at a hospitalier's request...
i heard...

   'ask them to drink a little...
or at least gradually...
alone... absolutely alone...
come night and at least
an hour before setting of
for the land of nod...
before their grand imitation
of death with sleep...
ask them to drink a little...
anything except beer...
wine or ms. amber...
             ask them...
  to drink alone...
  and tell them: would you
please be inclined
to listen to templar chants?
le chant des templiers -
organum marcel peres - harmonia mundi:
salve regina...
          da pacem domine...
                nunc dimittis...
ask them to drink a little...
to drink alone... and listen
to these chants of the templars...'

i have been here before: dear hospitalier...
i have... i have seen
diamonds be fathomed
in waterfalls -
i have been here: gnashing my teeth
with an agony from the aesthetic!
i was here: tortured by beauty,
once...

  'i've been here, prior! teuton!
i've seen what aesthetic blows
can be dealt on the hearts of man!
i've seen men weep from
the agony of beauty!'

ask them: implored the hospitalier
to listen to the chant of
the templars...
ask them to sit aside: alone...
ease their hearts with a little bit
of liquid-fire...
baptise them thus...
ask them to take this sacrament...
let these new men
be baptised by wedding themselves
to the tears they will about to
shed...

baptise them with all the ingenious
beauty of song!
tempt them into this agony
of beauty...
no Bach no Beethoven...
forget all the polyphonic composition
complexity of classical music:
to the bellowing guts
of angus dei...

        i don't want intelligent music:
i want music that replicates
the herded animal: for the chant of the choir!
excuse me worship for
the fox calls of the night:
in england one cannot find
wolves - only dogs barking...

at a hospitalier's request:
'weren't the templar the more vicious
adamants of faith -
a cross became a sword...
yet after a slaughter: they would repent
with song...
to feed a contradiction that
came with a completeness of
heart...'

te deum patern ingeniturn -
  i can't stall the teutons from singing!
the teutons must sing!
these black cross cladding
over a whitened reservoir of following
yet uncovered details...

ease their hearts: strain them against
such ferocity of beauty...
let me find a grain of universal
truth in all of this...
and share it among all the reigning
particulars...
detail some excursion
into mathematical schematics
of "explanation":

the universal fraction / percentage
the universal is... only...
0.00000001%...
the particular is 99.0000009...
to solve the socratic mystery
of consolidating universals
with particulars:

concerning myself with genes:
by the time i might have
joyed myself with grandchildren:
i would have been diluted to...
a quarter...

             please ask them to
reflect on a: my self...
rather than be so agitated and prompt
boundless with
a compounded of nervy-
reflexive myself...

      give them an hour
to concern themselves with conjunctions...
give them the scissors of
atheism: notably in english
the only dimension this explanation
works in...
a- (indefinite)
                   and -the- (definite) -
an -ism is an -ism is an -ism...
is perhaps a variation of shorthand
explanations: as any decency of
an -ology...

indefinitely but most assured: definitely
this lingering phantom
of a tongue that had to remain
in talk and was never allowed
to sing...

       the hospitalier implored once
more:
'the same can be achieved
with muhammad's adhan...
                            but what if muhammad
himself was... tone deaf?
it does little to the reality
of the french caricatures:
yet another beheading...
             some elsewhere like france
has become...
this masochistic statue of glass...
this ice forge that salt is thrown at!
please let them listen to the templar
chants... ask the men first...
let the women disguise themselves
into the experience...
but tell them...
there is only your heart
upon entry... and there's only
your heart upon leaving!'

and i have been accused of
sociopathy and psychopathy...
   lies have dwarf-esque legs to sprint on...
2007: my descent...
it has been oh so... coincidental...
i have a testimony of Abel...
the earth doesn't cry out for me:
i'm still laughing upon it...
it's so impossibly just to have
not disturbed a finger of evil
that always points with accusation
at its own tongue...

i'm a big boy now: i can allow
myself metaphors of evil
i can allow myself metaphors of good...
i want these templar chants
to be aesthetic torture chambers...
i want men to be baptised by
the tears they shed...
expecting results...
oh of course... if they don't cry
having drunk enough...
then...

           clearly: the latin men wouldn't
require their letters to have names...
an A would never become an alpha -
a connotation of association with
male...
king alpha prince beta - B -
the latin men didn't conjure names
for their letters... at best... syllable
constructs for their consonants...
or vowel-catching sighs and laughter
reliefs for the vowels...

Bee would never be most certainly
beta...
               Oh would not become
omicron...
                that the greeks gave names
to their letters:
why is it that they are the most
scientifically "biased" people of this world...
Es: or sigma - a sum of:
which is why they sing such
godawful songs!

the castrato assembly of
the nuanced teutons!
would i be lucky to be stolen from
this future in a choir...
and forced into... deeds...
that can be agglomerated
when celebrating the defeat
of the mongols at the hands
of the mamluks...
or who the turkish janissaries were...

immediately slaves...
immediately converts:
easily pawned zealots!

- what a kind expression:
i clutter... my smile... with teeth...
then again...
if i am supposedly smiling:
would i require the use of teeth...
if i'm therefore employing the use
of teeth:
i'm not exactly smiling:
i'm pouting with an off-putting
grimace...
and by showing my teeth...
i am "unconsciously"
attempting to sharpen them
with instigating both fear
or paranoia...

     i have wed myself to the tears...
i have left nothing to hsve
to make it conumate upon stressing
this aesthetic torture...

augure of either sigh or the forlorn...
with my tears i wed myself
to the lakes and the rivers...
beside spite:
from an authenticity basis:
i was made lacklustre i was made
hindered...
if i were merely trampled on:
tampered with:
that i feel more than i think
i might have been egregiously taken
advantage of...
it's oh so...
    synchronised...
as if an Abel: but this new-Abel
would not die from a wounding
of a stabbing sensation:
if would require covert
murderous mechanisms...
an ingenuity of chemical employment...

let the world rot to appease the bloodthirst
of the demiurge...
i will only serve to laugh...
as laugh i did:
so many years prior...
come! share my universal attention
to detail!
let the teuton sing!
let this borrowed Cassidy sing his
shoes and suede off!

how they would
untie the feet of bogus bodies
of chinese pump-out
machines...
toe-tied this naked night
from afar....
this naked stark horror...
cut them at every available limbs!
gauge their eyes out!
cut their tongues out!
leave them womb-esque
most pristine!
that's all that was ever required
of them!
they dare not prance around:
peacocking...
when the subtle man
is being circumcised...

and they can... toy with
a lottery of... flesh; edible...
how i impersonate...
this quest fetish for...
i'll celebrate eating
a chicken...
by succking out the marrow
in the bone...
i will... celebrate the crunch
of cartilage...
           i will feast on the tender-bits
of liver and heart...
i will swear allegiance
to a handful of poultry hearts to
best remind myself:
what lifting a volume of
chickens would have to feel like:
heaving them...

guess i just spoiled a "poem":
there i was also looking for... a rhyme...
to also look for geometric antics...
yes...
it has come to my attention
to be clumsy enough...
i too would have liked
to have spent the better part
of my yet to be: envisioned
life in buenos cyres...

if i were more than the name
prescribed unto me:
i were more darius than matteo...
if i were a xerxes and
athena was my bride...
i like questioning being
given a name:
with such hightened expectation...

      conrad of masovia...
it's like it was necessarily to be...
humming a belief in:
china ≠ tibet ≠ mongolia

kind augur: in china they give noun status
to their syllables...
since they don't own concept for
either vowel or consonant...
"concept": what a grand branding
need...
the beijing squints from lemon
sherbert are... shy for giving:

no... there's is no vowel:
there's the consonant "proper":
ka                                                            cha-se and che-st...
ke                                                chew
ku                                         chi
ki                                     cho
ko...           and there's

herr: fat-bang-****
when black rice powder made peoples
explode...
such generic life
and holding on...
the mediocre ambitions that
would never pierce the ambition claimants...
as having a heughtening
impetus of / for elevated strategy...
in beijing:
it's so necessary to have as many people
without heaving ambition...
as is necessary to have
a Lenchenstein and have so few...
arrogantly prized antagonists...
there have to be status quo converts
and bravado
architects of same...

i'm wondering: how will "they" ever...
multiply us to their assured
presence of number...
and weaken us intellectually
to fraction out a count of the celebrated
counter count of 1..

we must be so impossibly to conquer...
when herded: herded...
yet when not...
so biased against...
the already persisting antagonism
of a chinese "concept" of "individualism"
to borrow from...
well... basically... ****-all to do with!

phantom universe of
the universe!

ohan!

***** the spirited away
not some whiskey
and rye abode....

such blisters of youth
and the gods
and allah the masculine
hoy rider joy
ahoy joy...
on a motorcycle...
allah rides alone
little satan:
sorry... apologies...
my alone... time... my being
space bound

i don't want fish dreaming
then riding bicycles...

to the priest;
Vulcan:
marrying yhwh:hwhy

turn the *******
and the Star on David
with aid of
the clock...

     open:; sesame!

turn the Star of David with
either clock:
time has forever been turning
clock and anti-clock wise... wise..
backwards and forwards:
the first time my
proselyte Hebrew turned Muslim
Hebrew
decided to turn all her light off
no longer scared of the night
the damp the swamp...

                   then the cat-istrocracy came
all French purr and
there was the Ginger Monk
among them an Alfonso: the Protugese Greek...
no Arab linegage like with
Lamberto Lonardo...
   Loan an Idea... of? row row row row...
lard nut: hard to quash envy:
envy among males
is joke of envy among males
and the jealousy of other women...
is the joke:
dearest lord:
you made me eat of the fruit
so to create the dyanmic of the universe
and reincarnation to boot and suit....

lord: but i told you in advance i would
turn Zombie into Vampire
and the Zombie the creep anti Romanticism
of Vampire:
i am the Zombie King:
i need my Vampire Qujeen...

i need to part with cartilege and
infuse her with my dying Alzheimer's
protein... gobble gobble yack yuack!

Manchester should pride itself
and gain city rights...
free city rights...
like the cause of World War II
wasn't the intellectual inner
circle of the Danzig Myth?!

London the barometer...
ergo the test sites:
Manchester and Edinburgh...
pretending to be standing
on one's head:
Hollyewood and
the moon Landing...
at least the Soviets
were honest in their failings
until their peacefully collapsed...
such Labour and Conservative
passive aggression
at not acknowledging being wrong...
so much self inflicted
and later transmuted vitriol...
among the invisible class of life
those obsructions fake
of the pursuit of life..
these people who are the:
graukhaki:
                 ill stomach: all **** stain macht
Frau:              nachtspaziergänger:
spaces - orbiter? ecology of philology: how much
space to establish a colony:
away from the prying ones: with eyes...
neu Teuton?
elsewhere? Jesuit extreme of: must relax?!
Teuton Cyprus Teuton Hawaii...
you think? past Merseyside...
Middlesborough....

tales of Danish ****? or Saxon ****:
the **** victims settled for
titling themselves as Anglo-Saxons
because that's what the rapists would do:
like Stephen King said from the depths
of the depth:
they **** each other with love:

my liver itched and pulsated like the heart
of Wolverine...
Hugh and the entire cast i feel you:
*******...
you thousand furies and combust them into
one unique posit to be
in harmony with both space and time:
subjectively:
not by rocket sense
of the rocket implosion
the Newtonian implosion that was
Einstein: at a very bad time...
time of the Holocaust: what compenstation is
there?

subjective overload of experience:
the grander the numbing objective realizations:
of truth... conjecture of unity:
but then the recurrent theme of the bulging
subjectivity about to overflow...
and the cup will overflow...
like it always does:
and for humanity to perpetuate the continuity
of birds:
humanity will have to learn a long
and a hard
and a lasting lesson...

i'll call it a gracious and a Day of Origins
when Reyla will call me in simple
shyallables:
not my name
but by indictator stature not Papa
not Tata...
but Toto...
         this this: this is what i sacrifice
and make horde of sand against the water
and the tides of time...

this is only one: in my long list
of demands: to say goodbye and see
you on the other side....
London has been plentiful
abounding in self-sacrifice...
maybe i should take that book in jargon
German...
Olson? i know i got him cheap:
£30 for the Maximus poems: the 9th Gate...
but i wouldn't take him:
i think i will let go of
Ezra Pound's Cantos:
with my pale accomplishment to compliment:
yes. yes. i will.

i find that the natives, speak such an unremarkable
language of their own, that the language itself -
without persona or
        a "non grata",
once in a while: demands
a foreigner to speak it -
since the natives have become
so complacent using it -
turning a fork into a saw
sort of speak...
                a screwdriver
into a hammer...
              there are these glorious
times in the history of man,
where the natives speak
their native tongue:
so unimaginably dull -
lullaby-prone by some fiction
of their present surroundings -
the english speak the sort
of english that pakistanis acquire -
they're the insipid diatribe
           exhaustion of
the most beautifully proficient
  allocation of sound: akin
to the sparrow...
              at least the german be
stern schoolmaster akin to the crow -
but the english?
         you start losing respect
for the natives, when you speak
        better native, than the natives.
the last remains of an anglo-saxon
past remain in chemistry -
otherwise it's the optical-ease /
way out regarding the to be said:
hyphenated words -
   hydrocarbons - in english would be
hydro-carbons -
     you learn your syllable count
with chemical names:
       calciumoxychloride...
  but then there are the patriots -
        native-men-tongue
             (heimatmenschenzunge);
by the time i'm dead, i'll know the teuton
inside-out, and make sure to put him
back together: outside in.
- and yes, to reiterate,
the only "thing" about the english
being remotely saxon, is how
anti-german english has become,
optical spaghetti of the elongated
german word -
       which in english = minus the hyphen...
the english decided on less:
the german custard word scrabble -
and more on norman shrapnel -
i.e. hydro-philic          -          or hydrophilic -
   stage 1 (oxford)               stage 2 (cambridge);
and then the populace can write
a meme, a "phone number" to nowhere.

. all you need to read is... wir kinder vom bahnhof ZOO, about the ***** epidemic in western Berlin, and then read this... just the cherry, the spice on top... 2 years in Auschwitz translates as around 50 years in either... relativism... my hands are in the air and with an imitation of a chicken of a chicken imitating a crow, asking... why would it be convenient to ask a question at this point, and inconvenient to ask a question after?

and how much of andante maestoso -
from Beethoven's IX:
in terms of the choir's allure
reaches up to Orff:
   and some vague allure of
                the romancing Teuton?
too much...
   while Strauss died:
unsatisfied in being boxed into
waltzes...
      never writing a serious symphony,
never mind an opera...
every January 2nd (or is it the 1st)?
the people clap, and Vienna
gives a concert celebrating Strauss...
mind you...
  what else is miserable about...
the holocaust?
  the German died...
Beethoven and the whole lot of them
burned into a thinning air
of a past...
but no one bemoans the death
of the deutscheseele...
the pompous airs of a well tailored
SS officer in the Inglorious
*******...
                       every agrees:
for all the horrors they perpetrated,
they were, the best dressed
army...
  Goebbel's
     makellos grau
          und schwarz kluft...
i know of people who will
still sport (by god, jeans):
but! but... a prominent element
encompassing either grey...
or black...
even if i could, which i can't,
even if i would conflate:
which i also can't...
  the holocaust...
   i can't, i can't because:
   something German died in
the process...
   as the saying goes:
what kills the body, doesn't
**** the soul...
well...
      evidently
the Germans experienced
the opposite:
            their soul was slaughtered,
their bodies left intact:
just a case of numbers:
whereby more empty vessels
with a de-will...
   compared with
a concentration of Jews
             with wills like *****...
since even now:
   the holocaust this!
    the holocaust that!
that's one way of looking
at it...
   but also the tragedy of
                        what a German
once was...
    a portion of the Jewish
died...
   but also the collective
German spirit...
  die kollektivgeist:
which allows for
        a geschätzt-mensch.

.                                per usual, a 502 bad gateway hack,
title: /harp/
body: attempt: secure >
               proceed > ?
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two days i can almost handle on the brink...
but three days is enough, enough!
i could stomach the most dire psychotic experiences
back in the day, running around London,
running around Edinburgh,
losing it, completely losing it in my early 20s...
but... not something as ancient as when i was
a teenager... all these butterflies in my stomach
are unbecoming, truly...
the gut-wrenching sensations, the dizzy head...
the lost focus of being all loved up...
don't get me wrong, it's nice to feel so innocent
as one once felt... but it's hardly reasonable,
beside it being utterly unproductive...
making all these insane plans in my head that
my love could be reciprocated...
what, with a single mum and a son?
maybe if she had a daughter... but with a son...
i could father a daughter that isn't mine...
but when it comes to boys: it would be heartbreaking
to say the least, plus i'd be a persona non grata
in his eyes, however spectacular i might be...
because it wouldn't be officiated by a fostering
system being put in place... on the *****-nilly...
and just getting this infatuated like a giddy teenager
in order to merely have *** with her:
is not on the cards... thinking about inviting her over
and cooking her a meal, watching a movie...
i much prefer the cold comforts of a brothel,
with prostitutes... where i rub my fingers on bricks
before going in and touching a human being...
there's a calmness of the heart in that...
there is certainty that i might not have to wake up
one day and feel a heartache...
               don't get me wrong, the past  days have
been revealing...
                i can return to being a teenager...
plus i already said that it would be ****** to get into
a relationship with someone you're working with...
how to best get rid of the butterflies, then?
i started off with doing some stomach crunches...
more press-ups... and extended the route of my cycling...
not as far as i am capable of but at least not *******
around toward Hornchurch and back...
there are already other red flags ahead,
it happened when she started spreading rumours
than some other coworker was saying that i smelled
of ***** on the job, whether it's girl-on-girl infighting
or whether they're already trying to get me fired
i don't know... she's 39 i'm 35 and we're at that stage
in life where we've made our beds...
she might think that i might be a loser still living
with my parents... am i in debt? whatever debt i'm
in (student loan - weird... i am a dual national,
but they took account of my British citizenship prior
to my ****** citizenship at a time when
EU citizens could study for free in Scotland...
so... i'm sort of ******* that i have to... well...
i don't have to pay jack-**** if i don't earn more than
£15,500 a year... which i'm trying not to do...
back in circa 2004... you could live off...
hmm... how much was it... £3,000 per year having
minimised your expenses... o.k. maybe pushing it
up to £5,000 with some luxury) -
life isn't ****... it's just unfair... sometimes...
not always and never ever forever...
                     i'm glad to be on my way to some
"elsewhere"... because if what i'm seeing is a facade...
no wonder i feel loved up...
if i start peeling this onion of a woman i will find
out the true reasons why she's 39 and a single
mother... living with my parents... what?!
i get on with them... we share self-deprecating humour...
and... no ******* way are they're going to
end up in an old person's home...
that must be a western cultural phenomenon...
they'll get old, i'll get old... but i'll be around
to do **** for them...
and when i get to their age when i might need
**** done for me and there's no one around for me...
guess where i'm going... an euthanasia clinic...
**** all that patriarchal / matriarchal loved
up *****... you are better relying on strangers
within professional confines than your own family...
i never expected my grandmother disappointing me
when it came to my grandfather's death...
leaving it last minute when i could have visited him
and comforted him... all ******* hush-hush...
the fact that my uncle was coconspirator in all of this...
well i never thought much of my uncle...
he used to brag about sleeping with women too much...
i do too: sleep with women, but i don't *******
brag about it... it's between me and them...
no... family disappoints... i'm better off with strangers...
i'm just thinking: an euthanasia clinic in Switzerland...
or the Benelux?
   i'd probably love to see some proper mountains
at the end of my life... sure... Scotland has the highlands...
but they're not the Alps...
see... in our yearbook at the end of school
we were all asked to write something we were planning
for our life...
i wrote... i'll either become a priest,
or live a Bohemian lifestyle in some European capital...
well... it's not Paris... i wish it was Paris...
so much for becoming a priest... i'm more of a monk...
a Teuton - that's why i still visit a brothel...
i'm into all the things i ever wanted to be into...
Gnosticism and Qabbalah... philosophy, poetry,
music... in terms of Bohemianism?
well... i'm writing this, i'm drinking and smoking...
i feel like an artist, sometimes a philosopher,
but in general a mad cyclist who takes on
heavy traffic and wishes that more roundabout
around and in London where less safe...
with less cut-up points of directing traffic with
traffic lights... more of the old style of: jerky knee...
i believe Gallows Corner is the last worthwhile
roundabout to get on your bicycle for...
yeah... life's good... not great...
                 eh... love... it's exhausting...
on the stomach... esp. on the whole of the guts...
more stomach crunches tomorrow...
i need to **** these butterflies out, but first i need to
squeeze them and turn them into mush of
watercolours...
as you do, listen to one particular song...
   the verse - lucky man:
    happiness more less...
    happiness coming and going...
    all the love i have is in my mind...
it really has been luck: going mad at the age of 21...
the gods bestowed madness upon me in my early
age so that i could age with it...
learn from it... i can't go mad twice...
i think that, well... imagine going mad when you're
old and demented... out to lunch without
any chance for creating a momentum of creativity?!
imagine... i thank the gods for letting me go
mad so early... it means i can play the architect...
esp. because my focus is such that it's primarily
on language.

bouncing off the walls a slight tidbit
and shandy
because i just love those advertisement
interruptions
when i'm in the mood to write
and i set my alarm for 9am
or rather 8:50
and i did wake up but chose
to remain in a bedded position
because that wasn't just a dream
those were two days in two lives in one
a shared experience
and just thinking about love & suicide
and paddling from the north side of the island
to the south side of the island
of Kauai
because i was having a midlife crisis
whatever that means
a midlife crisis is a bit like global warming
a massive farce a diabolical bollocking
sentiment
that's the 3rd time i had *******
and i sexed her up good
so that she was ******* herself
while i was playing tweezers and pliers
with a limp oyster **** hey Jeronimo
hey Jericho
a city and a people
a bit like Pompeii
all in its glory that joke of lawyers
and attorneys
of: if you want to make god laugh:
tell him your plans
and he will say: islam
and by the god willing decree
you pitiable man
you humble man
you enviable man
i am the jealous god
speaking unto the enviable man
and that is as far as i dare to say
my presence
not otherwise
otherwise in birds and tectonic
stomachs of a rumbling
like water boiling
oh this oblivion of the dark grey
hot day of the birth of Gemini
and Samir and i cannot part
and i have to come to terms with
the burdens of love
and if i'm to be having
******* with Hawaii
then i need the eyes from behind
that Niqqab to be looking at me
fiddling their rings of marriage
and proposal
and i need to know
why i'm to make alternative conjunctions
and prepositions
of exclaiming !!! !!!              !!!     !!!
the problem with pronouns
conjunctions
and puncture marks
like abruptness of the dot and the Q: ?: question
and the colon
and semi-
what a sentence preserved:
mummified even
i swear to god
i am god
in my solitude
without a loneliness
and today's menu looks pretty already
i have a cabbage
with baggage
a carrot without a stick
a donkey
a jockey
an Armageddon
and if Nietzsche thought himself
a ******
then i think myself a Teuton
it's as if i'm not something organic
that history makes me inorganic
that i have a history
and a people and a binding will
of the collective unconscious
and that i can't motivate myself enough
other than myself
in my worst habits

i'm spinning i'm spinning
i'm spinning
i'm out of control but i'm also in control
i chose to write but
there are also household chores
but i didn't smoke all of it
it's all uphill from hereonin
here-on-in
up up up
up
up
up up up up
all the way up
there's no point in my slowing down
i need the air the breath
the soul if
if i'm going to gamble with
this love magnet
a Taurus and a Gemini
if you should so speak
because i told her a joke
i was so tired
and i thought about going to the brothel
but i didn't
so stupid
i mean: did you even bring your
"other" ring:
yes that **** ring
i don't mean what gets the girls
staring
the younger ones
when you come all stainless steel
and wood on finger
a ring
a ring on a finger
a sun in  the sky of day
and a moon in the sky of night

a tide of ocean
a river
my feet walking
a tide of ocean
a river
a tide of a river
my feet chasing feet
my eyes blinking

my eyes blinking
me interaction with the former
Putins
the Deutsche....

one gigantic hard-on for a word
that's impeding...
thumping me Mongolian
Saudakur style
grunt grunt grunt gurgle
hunger
one meal a day Bruce Springsteen
style...

Geheimnis - secret
Civic - bürgerlich
polizei -

     polity and the philosopher
polity and the philosopher

ah... perfect rearrangement
just did the duty of emptying those two
decorative bark sacks in the garden
under the Patagonia
and Pagoda
and Nebraska
or somewhere
clinging to far away places
but the *** so close
now i'm itching fidgeting
and itching once more
i want to scratch my brains
and i know i only have one
but there are two hemispheres
and already

the schematic semantics
of math and how numbers know numbers
and how letters don't know letters
and how there aren't syllables
in numbering Katakana
a 10 doesn't make it a binary
of vowel consonant
or consonant and vowel
but that there is vowel distinct
from consonant
and how woman is a vowel
and how man is a consonant
and this is
my microscope my telescope
into the ventures of man as soul
and oscillation away from the days'
removal from the status: just an animal...

now the throat is dry
and i'm going back into my garden
as either Adam or
Satan
and if she wants...
she can moan like a Capirote on fire
that's where Christianity
is vibrant
and echoes a love of men for men
and women are like
secrets
like the ones you keep hidden in Je-CHO-Wa
he: who hides them
(them): being women...

he who hides women from the harm
of the charm man
became endowed with
with Sisyphus and the bundle of burden
that rock
and Adam's apple
and the thinker of Rodin and his resting
clenched fist ***** face...

by 3:30 the effects should be wearing off
and i should be gearing up
to making that beetroot coleslaw
i have the red cabbage
and red onion and
the carrots
the lemons and the yogurt
and i will probably stop thinking

or think that out of all the 300+ employees
i was asked
to go to Portsmouth
on the 14th for a 7h shift at a silent
disco
but i asked about the engineering
work potential on the 7th and 8th
and how two days ago
it took me almost 3h to get home
to what then
kiss the doorknob and go back out
am i mutant robot or Mongol
just want to know
                 so maybe i can leave early
if put on gate 3
they are really sparing me when
it comes to DC3
and i always volunteer
but each time i get rejected
perhaps because i'm prized
i don't know
you can really write a philosophy of work
i mean
you can truly write about micro-managing
your psyche in a working
environment
you feel that Nietzsche went mad
because he didn't have menial tasks
before him
and Bukowski on the other hand
couldn't materialize on the gems
of thought when performing menial tasks...
and Heidegger is found
somewhere in between...

i smoked i drank a little
but i already went out to the shop
to get more whiskey
and a baguette
and Havering Road was filled
with skipping and tictactoe
and a girl
and she was called Reyla
and please don't make me speak
my stomach's soul

Mongol:

дуу хоолой
duu hooloj!

сүнс бурхан

           strange seeing Mongolian
in script: NOT
in Turkic -
but Slavic...
Greco-Slavic

those sneaky ******* from the ancient
world those
Greeks
first they hijacked the Hebrews
and rebuilt the Roman Empire -
Troy -
since the origins of
the myth of Rome is that of defeated
Phoenix of Troy

now they hijacked
the Greek lettering themselves
and applied their genius
to the Slavic people
who competed with the Germans
and at the pinnacle
cheap-*****
Soviet metal competed with
staging a filming of the moon
landing
no sorry no R.E.M. song
like U.F.O.

             disputed by all costs
"win" the "race"...
      
are we all so dumb deaf and bereaving
a fate of debt that
somehow
to no greater advantage
there's an Aladdin with a lamb
and a camel shaped lamp
and there's the rich man
and the rich man gets murdered
is depressed
O         o       O      what then Oo
that's like also oOo
that's the trinity of earth moon and star
and some vague Postman Pat
to Lucifer: you forgot my black & white cat
so rhyme
is echo is rhyme
is not thyme
is time
and timing
and space and spacing
and so dislocated verbiage
much Morse: or worse than a finger
no longer pointing to somewhere called
elsewhere
like death is a rattling toy
and i have only sand dunes in my vibrancy
of contested spirit...

to the far burrows of the former
kin -
           in kind by way of summary
a "buying" of leverage
of time contested
as lost to: a commute...

                  perhaps the ordeal has not yet
begun;