i still feel that people are under-engrossed
in the simple statement they took to mean
rubric, and i took as me own, i.e.:
    just... because... i sorta feel like it...
          i really decided that
hollywood was a bit *******
and shallow, a bit dandy,
i mean: just a bit sad...
if you but a pistol against my
temple, i probably might feel something....
but hey! there comes a saving
repirsal...
i call them the alt-left
i.e. those who said: thanks for displacing
our great barrier reef
   bound by eastern europe....
a billion chinese....
    you chong that cha cha and later
spreak qua chi?
       i evidently didn't want to be an exile,
i didn't want to be a patron saint
of exile... rotting in england...
  that fertile ground of what's to come
in america...
   all you get is my laughter:
when homosexuality just spelled
out: a right of opinion,
when homosexual forgot being artists
and instead started to gear i.v.f. children,
when all the waste came back
without an Eddy Gein to talk
giving the leather-face abstract...
   very few of us could scale
such heights, yet the majority of us
became castrated by supposing we had to
do as the anti-analogue suggested:
oh sorry, too many words?
better me than the taxman checking
your bank-account...
how low can you go, seriously:
  the i.v.f. / test-tube argument was spawned
by children living in mono-*** households....
i'm just watching the clock when they
start to fall off into the proclamation of rights:
America is funny, and i am prone to
laugh...
      it's the argument you'll hear from
the science abuse of: those who can't reproduce,
and therefore raise no children...
not with a mannequin scientist telling
them: yes, you, can!
well, apparently they can...
      two protons make a neutron akin
to an electron dynamic...
     i can't help but see the fault with
the brain being the source of thinking...
i can't help thinking about it...
i could care to make the brain
the source of thought, and the delusions:
soul, god... had i found out that the brain
is as degenerate as a heart...
what, can you convince me with Alheimer's?
   it's really there, was it ever only there?
i find claim to find the origin of thought
as solely brain-orientated...
and there you go off with your neuroscience
*******...
          at least yoga teaches that
a person exists: meaning the whole body
is involved... not some itemisation part-counter-part...
i can't believe fat thinks,
and how the brain degenerates
by the verse of acne via protein equivalent
attacking it, when brain does what people
suggested: does the brain power,
compares the function of the brain to gym...
i.e. you can ever do
crosswords, and other "enigmas"
      and easily escape the moral question....
yes, i've been to prostitutes...
but it's what i did with them that matters,
not that you suddenly think to be superior levitating
above me having gone through
3 marriages... feel superior now?
probably not...
               i am really thinking
about piercing your gob and tugging it
into the pig-trough... so i can see you say
the words manure with oats....
        boring, as ever...
snowflakes that never reach the construct of
a snowman...
                  where the donkey, and the carrot?
it's certainly not a carrot-donkey story
where one's imaginary and the other
is motivated...
        i could have claimed homosexuals once,
even championed them...
about the same time
that art became boring, and they
   decided to do the standard heterosexual
thing of starting families...
    i got bored when one really became
the man, and the other really became a woman...
and there were kinds involved...
and there was no **** coercing the androgyny -
about the time when androgyny died...
when it became less and less confusing
and more cohort...
  that's when i did the one best thing
i could ever do with res vanus -
i turned cogito = mars...
   and yes, the concept of thought incorporated
into a deity from the ancient yore of
a polytheism emerged as: no gods really do...
because once you take to ennabling
a single god from the pantheon to thought
rather than being... you **** all the gods...
and each of the pantheon as alike in
thinking... huh?
     we introduced no more than omni-
to the gods of the greeks...
we did the averse-Prometheus...
upon stealing fire from Olympus,
we dragged thought into Olympus...
  prior to this: the concept of a thinking god
made no sense to be human...
    it's only with a thinking god
  or what's to be called, the basis of omni-
        that we became, slightly dislodged...
        a thinking god is the basis for a god
circumstanced out of the omni- prefix...
that's... that'sthe power of thought...
     thus with a god capable of thought
i can be but an empty thinkg (res vanus) -
and whathever violence comes my way...
with whatever violence i'd like to translate
as arm, stone, throw... i'll keep contained
as merely violent thought...
   nearing the telepathic adamancy...
but that means: a god... not a republic
of gods... which means a thinking god...
   which means that i can't think if
there's an omni- suggestion of being...
  meaning there's no evil genius or akin
given the cartesian res cogitans -
     and how the brain as an ***** is prone
to be degenerate akin to kidney...
    meaning that cogito ergo sum
isn't the right fact, just that res cogitans is...
i am empty, a thing of emptiness,
a res vanus, and i am impregnated by thought,
or by a pseudo-dasein... a being there:
that translates as rioting...
                     and all because
of the concept of a thinking god, and the prefix omni-.
man gave way to the prompt of
the gods not becoming non-existent,
but toward a prompt of merely thinking...
  and now man questions why he is how he is,
and why he behaves as he behaves,
and why there's even a case to question
being as an antidote to non-being, yet nonetheless
seeing the thus: of abhorred content and
a much greater take on what's to be abhorred.
    the omni- prefix concept only came
about when we decided that gods ought to think
after having acted like a pillaging Mongolian
horde akin to Zeus morphing into swans
to ******* **** a few demigods along the way...
the fact that there is a "god" with the given
omni- prefix standards...
  wait a minute... i lost the plot!
  over-stating the points included in this
statement over-and-over again won't work...
           i already said what i wanted to say...
trying to clarify the points as simply as
1 + 1 = 2 will not really help...
       i can't achieve a clarity of 1 + 1 = 2
no more than Kant could in his critique of pure reason...
it's language... you're writing a book...
   if it was staged to a mathematical simplicity
as 5 + 7 = 12... then i'd simply write the zenith
as a + p + p + l + e = apple...
hiding behind a mathematical zenith
while writing out the Hades using directly
confrontational optics to sound symbols
              rather than optics to thought symbols
will not help...
          the next tier of language is exploration
beyond 1 - 9, i.e. Δ -
       that's really the Pythagorean genesis...
they are bound to say delta...
       and beyond a - z...
   well: nothing you can exactly internalise...
fist, foot... stone... stuff of protests,
and farming a field of potatoes... donning
Lenin's goatee, while pretending to
play the violin, akin to fiddling with it
as a Rasputin might.

I'm lost in the ocean

all alone
I'm afraid of drowning
I'm just hoping for a relief

all alone
I can't believe that no one hears me when I'm screaming out my lungs

all alone
I'm swiming in the endless ocean, searching for the end.

all alone
lost in the ocean, screaming and fighting I'm thinkg about drowning

Because drowning could be the relief I'm hoping for.

ja, między swoimi? na wygnaniu? ja? jeden? z kim, i z dla kogo potrzeb? twoje, twej, tego, co mnie nigdy nie znał? tu?! tu nie ma na na narodu... ani ludzi wartych o przyjaźń, co by dało wartość, zwane: lata. o to zapomnienie, warte, złoto i gruz, na to samo w chinach, praca, zajęcie, ***, i to: tak, owszem, tak jest, panie profesorze, tak będzie... i nie inaczej... stara babuszka w lesie... skryta, skłania się po grzyby, potem na targowicy, w hustce, sprzeda sekret tych perfum. oh tych gnań... do tego: co było, i już nigdy już nigdy nie będzie. ah te piękne muchomory... polka-kropki w taniec, jak niby w twej bluzie... czy też w twej spódnicy, szyk, na tą ostatnią noc, gdzie mnie nie było, na tej zwanej, nad pamiętnej, studniówce; pisane, ręką, dziecką w rękach poronienia, o latach osiem; poronienia od narodu dar, co był bliskim tym co byli nad nim, w ramach lat, przed nim.

the saxons said the same, we don't mix with these people,
if i want to drink diluted ****-worth's of whiskey
i'll drink what the dogs **** out... and tell you,
it's like magic mushrooms!
    you know the difference between economic migrants
and migrants per se?
   the latter do not "conquer"...
    they don't make themselves habitual, comfortable...
they don't earn or learn a trade...
               they're here, to learn what the parasitic
government provides, taxation, en masse thieving...
only to exploit it, the system of benefits.
                                 akin to a saxon, or a norman, i'm
standing on these shores, and trying to thinkg of a good
reason to mate with the women on these isles...
   and i'm thinking... why dilute my d.n.a.,
     as the expression is made plain by the intellectuals,
my *d.n.a. requires an upkeep...
     well, thank you for indicating to me where sensible
objectivity ends, and when true subjectivity, or poetry,
begins.
  i was planning to find out when all these objective
superiority statements would end, they just started to bore me,
sure, they made me feel uneasy,
     the internal dimensions of the object i encompass
are, so much less interesting than the external aspects
of the same object... within the arithmetic of 1 + 1 + 1 = 3!
3 + d!
       economic migrants simply show the ineffectiveness
of the host nation's workforce... it's in plain sight...
they're either lazy, callous, inefficient, irregular,
      low-quality proof (regarding the necessary output
for a satisfactory end-product),
                               in a nut-shell:
a bunch of wankers who just want to shove, but can't push!
              or heave!
why would i want to dilute my blood among these
people? sure, they can jingle and jive, and sing me a ******
christmas carol... apart from that? a potato famine.
      title? celtic-blood.... ginger-red-carrot-hair...
            sometimes there are just natural prejudices,
or let's say, personally experienced prejudices taking hold
of your writing, that you simply can't obstruct...
          some four-leaf clover ******* fairy of a boy tells you:
you should mingle with your own...
         you're polite enough to write an answer,
rather than tell it to his face... when you flying to dublin, you ****?