We are consciousness, and only consciousness.

The consciousness that is somehow bound to the body, is conscious of everything.

Thoughts are like people moving around in the market place. Thoughts are everywhere and when we give our attention to thoughts, when our consciousness looks at thoughts, which are everywhere to be seen, which are all around us, we experience thinking.

It is very important that we understand that we are consciousness and only consiousness.

This way we can free ourselves from the prison that we are in but yet don't know we are in. Humanity is enslaved thanks to the mind. Not just because the mind exists, but because of the believes that we carry in the mind, which are believes that keep us limited. We believe things that are not truly true, and this keeps us in a kind of prison.

When we are born in a body, we are free and we are just consciousness, purely conscious.

As we grow, all the information that is already here in the world is ingested into our mind. As we continue to grow, and as all this information continues to grow in our mind, we start to forget that we are just pure consciousness. By the time we are teenagers, and by the time we start to become adults, we have totally forgotten that we are just consciousness and we live our lives in a little box because we limit ourselves with the believes that are inevitably conditioned upon us. We believe that we are this body and we are not this body. When i say we, i am talking about the consciousness, the pure consciousness.

And the problem is not only that we believe we are this body, but we grow the habit to think compulsively.

Anything in this world can become a habit, and for the mayority of humanity , thinking has become a habit.

So what happens?
The pure consciousness that you are is never pure, is never silent, is never fully conscious because first of all, we are taught to believe that we are the body-mind, and second of all, we grow the habit to always think by always having to judge ourselves to see if what  we are doing is right or wrong, to see if we are to be punished or if we are to be rewarded. And this supports and strengthens the believe that we are the thinker, that we are the body.

When we don't allow spaces of no-thought, of no-thinking, we forget that we are an empty sky.  

My effort on leaving behind all these words is to wake up as many people as possible.

People are missing a great opportunity.

People stay living in a little room when they can be living in a huge palace.

All that has to do be done is to find a little distance between thoughts, between feelings, between everything and always remain a watching presence. Now, we are always this watching presence, we are always consciousness even if we are unconscious about it. Even if we are unconscious about the fact that we are consciousness , we remain consciousness. For example, all animals are consciousness, they are awareness, but they are unaware of this. Their body limits them because it lacks intelligence. They are not fully and totally free and they can not be either. But at the same time they don't have to be. By nature they  don't have to be intelligent, they are fine just how they are and they are in the process of one day becoming conscious like we are, like the humans are. Still, there are many humans who remain unconscious of the fact that they are consciousness and only consciousness. Without shape, without form. Just consciousness, awareness, everywhere. This whole universe is consciousness and when this consciousness is merged to a body, the body is simply a contact point of the consciousness.

At some point, when the body of a baby is being developed in the mothers womb, a little spec of consciousness enters and binds to the body of the baby and this happens because through the human body, through a human experience, the consciousness is capable of becoming aware of itself and this realization is possible in any one life time, in any one human experience. But, it has not been so. It has taken many many life-times and many many people have not yet realized this. People can't even believe that they had a life before this life and that they can have a life after this life as well. People can't even conceive this. But it is true. People have been going life after life, obviously and naturally not remembering the past life, but going life after life not going beyond life. Not going beyond the human or atleast not even understanding, discovering, learning , what life is, what the human is. People remain ignorant and afraid because of the conditioning that they receive.

All conditions prevent the being from trascending their lives and consciousness because in our true nature we are totally unconditioned- free-beings. Any condition that is imposed on us goes against our very nature and anything that goes against nature is bound to have problems.  

And so my reason for saying these things that i have discovered to be true in me, is to help people remember or to atleast give people a new idea that there is the possibility of something more, of something greater than life, something with no limitations, something with no death, something that can not get sick, that can not feel pain, something of pure joy and peace , of pure love.

Every single human being is searching for this something, every single human being is searching for themselves. And they are searching because they remember. They have been themselves before. They are themselves right now. They are consciousness right now, but there are so many things in the mind that they forgot and they dont know. And when they hear something that is true, when something is said that points to that consciousness, automatically something is felt inside, something is triggered.

This whole search for truth or for enlightenment is a search for our own selfs.

It is a remembering process that happens.

Go into this search as empty as possible.

The less conditions you carry , the less knowledge you carry, the more simple and humble you are, the easier it is to remember who you are, because it does not take knowledge to know that you are consciousness, that you are awareness, it simply takes consciousness and awareness.

So it is important to be aware of everything, of every single thought that comes in and out. Be aware of the believes that you believe and the believes that you don't believe.

I don't know if there are people who for some reason are not ready to awaken, even though they can, even though every single human being can awaken, but,  there are people who have put too much into their believes, too much faith, and who can not even concieve the idea of dropping these believes, these investments. Now, the funny thing is, that even all these people who are unaware, are consciousness themselves. And it makes sense that these people who are unconscious , are here in the world so that other people can wake up, so that other people can learn from them, so that other people can see their unconsciousness, can see their behaviors, and use them towards their journey, towards their enlightenment, towards their shift of consciousness.  

"We are itself the consciousness presenting itself as human nature" - Mooji.

We , the consciousness, invisible consciousness that can not be seen nor touched, which one day was before Earth was created, that consciousness that is everywhere like space, over time has manifested itself in the world of form, in the world of matter and eventually through the movement of what appears to be time, manifested itself as a human being.

It is an invisible yet conscious phenomena that has managed to make a form out of atoms and elements, managed to make a form out of itself, out of elements of itself, and managed to create the world that we can see today. And seeing the vastness of the universe, we can see the many possibilities that exist, the many possibilities of consciousness to keep growing, to keep creating, to keep expanding, to keep evolving.  

One day i am not going to be able to express myself through Esteban, yet i will be expressing myself through other bodies, with other names. And i have been expressing myself through other bodies also, like for example one of my favorite man, Osho, Bhagwan. Osho is I. Osho is the same consciousness that is in Esteban, expressing. Now, we look different in the outside, our voices are different, our accents are different, but it is the same consciousness trying to express the same thing. Once we know that we are this limitless consciousness, we can start focusing on creating things. But right now what is important is that everybody realizes that we are this consciousness, because if not everybody knows this, then we can not create, we can not work to our full potential. Once we know who we are, once we know WHAT we are, we will know exactly what we have to do, what we can do, and we would do it with a quality that has not existed before. A quality of super consciousness, a godly quality. So before we focus on the outside world we have to focus on the inside world first. Before we can create beauty outside we have to create beauty inside, because the outside world is a reflection of the inside world.

If the inside world is not pure, is not balanced, then the outside world will not be pure, will not be balanced.

If inside of us there is tension, anxiety, fear, hate, anger, violence; this is what will be expressed outside of us. If inside of us there is love, wisdom, peace, joy, beauty; then outside of us there will be all of this as-well.

The problem is not whether we are thinking negatively or positively, the problem is that we are thinking unconsciously.

That we think negative or positive thoughts does not matter as long as we know that we are thinking. And not because we are the thinker but because thoughts are passing through the mind and here the consciousness that we are , "thinks". But it does not think as in it is doing something, it simply sees the thoughts. The consciousness does not even move, does not even blink, does not have eyes like these eyes. The consciousness just is, and the consciousness sees thoughts moving, occuring.

The problem is not that the consciousness is seeing negative thoughts, the problem is that if the consciousness is seeing negative thoughts, it believes the negative thoughts.

You forget that you are the awareness that watches thoughts, totally separate from the thoughts.

You are simply giving attention to the thoughts.

Like i said before, thoughts are moving all around you. You can not see or grab them because they are so subtle in their manifestation, yet they ARE energy in movement, they exist but in different frequencies of existence. And they are everywhere.

When we experience thoughts, what ever category of thoughts, it is because we are giving our attention to those thoughts. Every single thought is available to us. The mind is not just your mind, my mind; The mind is one universal facility, available to all.

And so, the problem is not that you are thinking negativily.

The problem is that you are thinking unconsciously.

Become more conscious of your thinking. Become conscious of thoughts. If the thoughts are negative, watch them. If the thoughts are positive, watch them. But don't judge them as negative or positive, dont judge the thinking. If negative thoughts are percieved, don't start saying to yourself  "oh why am im always thinking negatively? ;( " because this IS another thought and you are not watching it. Usually THIS is the thought that is not watched.

You watch a thought, for example, you watch a negative thought. This negative thought brings out negative emotions because thoughts are the cause of emotions. Emotions are energies-in-motion. You watch your thinking, you watch the negative thought and then you say, "oh this thought is bad, why am i thinking these thoughts? I should not be thinking this way, what is wrong with me?" that right there is a thought also and you are thinking, believing, that it is you!

Any judgement is a form of thought.

Anything that consists of words or symbols and even images are thoughts. It is all mind and the problem is that there are thoughts that are not being watched, observed, and this is keeping you unconscious and troubled.

There are many thoughts that we are not aware of.

For example, we watch a negative thought , we percieve a negative thought, but then the next thought that talks about that negative thought, we don't see because we think, believe, that we are the one who talks instead of remaining the watching consciousness that we are.

We are not the one who talks because we don't even have a mouth to talk through. We are simply and only consciousness. We use the human body as an instrument to talk and express ourselves but we remain the conscious awareness.

Those thoughts that are not being watched are keeping us from going deeper into life.

These unobserved thoughts are keeping us traped in the mind.

So if you ever ask yourself the question, what is life?
What is my purpose in life?
What should i do?
What should i not do?
If you are not out of the mind, you will not get the true answer because the mind is limited to these questions.

The mind will only give you that which has already been given. It will not give you originality.

Simply try this out:

When ever you are experiencing thinking, let the thoughts be, don't judge them as negative or positive thoughts, as good or bad thoughts, just watch them. If you do judge them and you say "*** why am i thinking that?! " watch that, watch that judgement. Keep watching, just simply watching, purely aware of every single thought, keep watching and you will start to feel a distance, a silence, a space.

See how long you can go from thought to no-thought to thought.
See how long you can remain in a silent gap between thoughts.
Watch your thoughts, watch your thinking and see how the watchingness slowly expands.
See how the silent gaps become longer.
And see the peace that these silent gaps bring.

Thinking back, To when I was the light that brightened your way,
Thinking back, To when you hung-onto every word that I would say.
Thinking back, To the times you would run to me, Just because.
Thinking back, To how you stood with me on every 'cause,
Thinking back, On the love we use to share,
Thinking back, On the time when we use to care.
Thinking back, On the way you made me smile
Thinking back, On how you use to drive me wild.
Thinking back, On the way you use to touch my soul,
Thinking back to  a time, that I really thought, that you made me whole.
Thinking back, On how you use to make me feel,
Thinking back, On a life that now- doesn't seem real.
Thinking back, I'll do no-more...There's nothing left worth thinking back for.
Thinking back has made me free, 'Cause me to except what had to be,
Thinking back now I can move-on, Love again, Live again, Because I'm strong.
Thinking back we both played a part, but love was not enough to keep us from falling apart.
Thinking back, Yes! My last time, must move-on to a new rhythm; must find a new rhyme.
Thinking back my heart is clear and forever I'm sure that you'll be near,
Thinking back, we both are free and forever; friends we will always be.
Thinking Back

borrowing from a pink floyd album cover:
it will take a 12h shift:
standing: not marching: i'd much prefer
a 12h shift of just walking than standing
in one spot: rooted in like a tree:
your skeleton is not supposed to imitate
a tree:
you almost want to stand on one foot...
but your toes are only so numerous (x10)
before the pins and the needles reach into
clarifying you are a bipedal creature
with an ***** spine:
i tried dancing on the spot
i tried being a hunchback i tried everything...
bypass comes after about 10h when
the fatigue wears off and some strange
adrenaline kicks in and the pain is numbed
(which wasn't a pain, just an irritation
to begin with) - and the body is worn enough
like a gratitude...
plus is was Wanstead and all the east London
hispters and the thoroughly bred
well: all the women are mothers but they
look so average so average
none of those whorish **** types you want
for one night:
then there was this couple and obviously
middle aged with two boys...
one had an oversized head and absolutely no
shoulders
his brother in a wheelchair all strobe-light happy
in spasms of trying to give birth to ego
and to the vector of ego that could be translate
as thought:
a happy vegetable: well: all botanical life
is alive and moving to the waves of photosynthesis
so much parody:
i was thinking in splinters of moments:
if i am so degenerate in my ethics of perhaps
my biology and i am not given access to
reproduce: i will... just watch this spectacle
of the receeding hairlines and the weak jaws
and the choice women have made
and i will be deliberately humble about
how people want life to be the conjuring
of a magic of misery...
am i o.k. with "nature": yes! am i concerned
about the civilization of nature:
the unnaturalization process that spews out
of the mouths of Christianity:
how the weak are supposed to humble the strong
and leave the strong unwilling to protect
the weak?
that is what Christianity has spawned...
                        the weak bias of weakness...
there is no strong bias of stregth:
even in that single sentence i see...
                        there is only strength and will:
determination...
but the weak spawn a -ness: a quality about them
that crumbles under the weight of
solititude and: eventually that solitutde turns into
a solipsism: which, is a veneer: a mask:
a prototype which becomes an archetype of
imitating a mountain...
standing ground watching as time erodes...
how time bends...
for those 12h i tried to conjure a narrative akin
to the peep / peak show... with an internal
narrative to hush hush talk miserably about the people
around me:
but i realised: when you negate thinking:
i.e. i'm not thinking:
when you obstruct thinking rather than pseudo-obstruct
thinking with acts of meditation and
meditation is such oriental *******...
we're Europeans! we don't meditate!
we either think! or we don't think!
meditation is a pathology of the lack of obsruction!
to borrow from architecture and the dams
and how rivers swell and become lakes
and in turn are harnessed to create electricity...
at this Wanstead festival i witnessed the holistic
jargon eye and ******* swelling crap
like 45min sessions of people sitting in
a darkened tent tapping their foreheads...
listening to windchimes and witchcraft...
as i said to my Pakistani coworker:
well: i can imagine that massaging the temples
would do you some good: since that's the most
vulnerable part of the cranium: besides the eye sockets:
but tapping your forehead thinking it would
conjure up Buddha's third eye...
i can ******* headbutt you... do i need to tap
my ******* forehead too?
i can ******* headbutt you like a Mongolian yak...
savvy?
oh jeez... and the music: this karaoke was
so terrible...
                     well... what i was trying to figure out...
Wanstead is not Chelsea and these hispters
with their families:
some apparently deflecting biological hazards
of leaving it much too late to reproduce...
but everyone was just giving themselves a pat on
the shoulder for having achieved a momentous
clarity of family:
while i just stood there: twinkle toe...
a vastness of reading and isolation...
                              sparingly a comment came
which i overheard between four men
concerning the "yellow jackets"...
         until one approached me and asked
me for the direction to the toilets: which he already
knew:
but the way he approached me was
from a descriptive angle:
well, you look stern and authoritative...
do i?
                      the black cap and sunglasses
are not a ******* Batman suit:
do you see me wearing underwear over my trousers?
i didn't say that: i didn't even think that:
i'm only now, writing about it...
ad hoc hindsight... which i find more and more:
hindsight is a great tool for narration:
because you don't have any narratative component
when the moment comes:
it's only hours later that it creates a dawn of a splinter
a suffocation of silence that needs to be
broken...

so in that: all well known album cover...
light passes through a prism: for the sake of argument
the prism is 2D...
so white light passes through a prism... triangle...
and emerges as a rainbow...
now...

  thinking                      not thinking...
besides meditation:
meditation in the oriental sense is...
i saw those *******...
they obstruct not thinking by creating
frequencies... making sounds...
and i don't mean Mongolian sound generation
of the khoomei... the Tuvan practice
of reaching into your stomach for a breath
and raising it to your throat
while also blocking your ability to breathe
through your nose creating a blocked
cavity (misnomer aplenty, regardless)...
but these ******* are willing meditation:
they are so blind to: not thinking...
that they are actually thinking about: "not thinking":

by way of honing into a specific sound
of the "guru"...
                    i never thought that i could
experience seeing people so pathological about
clinging to thinking:
and these people are, categorically:
pathological concerning keeping up with
the Descartes and the Kants...
thinking without focus / systematications...
no labyrinths no rivers...
no great yawn seas of perverted time of
their own, singular, vessels...

          you either think: or you don't think...
so if i take the light and the 2D prism away...
and instead...
i posit a cube...
and just draw a straight line into the cube
and just call it time...
i can replace light with time...
but for me to replace light with time
i need a 3D object for the vector to pass into:
after all:
what does thinking cushion, absorb...
time... thinking has nothing to do with space:
and i think that's what really bothers most people...
that thinking is associated with time...
while not thinking is associated with space...
categorical-negation: NOT-THINKING

**** i even had to craft a hyphenated compound
for the subject matter!
not-thinking ≠ meditation...
                               maybe meditation is something
the orient invented itself in because
its phonetic encoding create a dissonance
from how simple and universal sounds are...
i mean:
     i once wrote a poem about red and green...
but that became deleted (somehow: ooh woo hoo)
octopus, milk, sugar... otherwise oscar, mike, sierra...
that's what came through the radio
and i just giggled...

                  why are traffic lights
red amber green
green is safe
but what if blue: blue is flow... good to go...
otherwise blue is the light of an ambulance
speeding:
blue is: let us pass through:
so it's not like people can't see blue
in the daylight...
ah but red and amber: conjure up brown?
no... blue and red contrasts...
yellow and blue make brown?

                  shifty tactic... now just spewing...
but regardless of light...
if time is the equivalent to light...
and passes through a 3D rather than a 2D prism...
(in the case of 2D: an optical element,
so viable)
                           ... thinking is associated
with time...
but not-thinking... that's the cushion for space
to absorb you, chew you, digest you: spit you out
but retain a part of you that will eventually
be ******* out...
                              yet time and thinking...
a bit like medtiation:
meditation is a laxative:
you want to enter a state of meditation whereby
you stop thinking: but you're not not-thinking...
meditation is an answer as to why we were
able to domesticate animals...

                            oh no one here who's a loud
mouth and know it how...
these words: written with the envy of silence
have no voice of my own...
but they can be the reader's own words...
i will not utter them...

                        that tapping on the forehead
bothered me a great deal...
                           meditation is not a negating-obstruction
of thinking...        there is only the categorical-negating
article of: NOT: the definite articulation of
the swaying-obstruction of NO...
                     there is NO moon
                     becomes: that is NOT (a / the -ism) moon...

12h shift... several hours later and
my plughole of an **** gets finally unblocked
with relaxation my rummaging my intestines
with a bread that doesn't use the ingredient of wheat:
just seeds and white cheese (not as salty
as a feta)...

                          and we even haven't began to
talk about Islam's fascination with consciousness...

there's a common "saying" in the realm of thinkers: i'm thinking about thought - and it's so common that it deserves an answer: that doubling-up of a two tier manifestation of consciousness... thought is a verb that seemingly has not translatory outlet akin to a limb, yet thinking is, very much akin to magnetism, thinking is a sixth sense - in that thought it mandible, and is attracted to almost anything, and can make something out of nothing, the mere act of thinking is obviously superficial, mere thought does not produce a tolstoy moment with a war & peace end product, but whatever they call "mindfulness" is a load of crock-****... the prime ingredient is not res cogitans (thinking thing) - you only become mindful when you stop to think... i have to admit, the least spectacular element of thinking is ethics... the ought i vs. the i ought not... thinking is hardly an "ethical" judgement medium.

thinking about thought:
    cogitans circa cogito* can sometimes
be debilitating,
to be honest: it's actually debilitating -
i find thinking a phenomenon -
or rather the soul (as concept)
an unexplained phenomenon,
  with thinking being a noumenon -
       i find that we're closer
to being the kantian revisionism of
cartesian "spandex" than we really
believe: i stopped believing in
the cartesian res cogitans -
i even stopped believing in my own
res vanus thing emptied, ready to be
filled,
      the spontaneity of thought,
its originality, even with a repetitive
narrative leaves me bewildered by
kant's res per se: a thing in itself...
       lodge a person in a stranger's pair of
shoes, lodge a person in a stranger's
cognitive "pattern" -
the result is: you'd still cling to your own,
however better the other's is
by comparison.
                  but there's a reason why
there's an antithesis to the cartesian res cogitans:
we do not perpetually think,
    there's no chance in hell to suggest
that thinking as perpetuated,
without holes of "meditation" where
no narrative emerges...
     i like thinking, i call it cognitive cinematics,
i actually prefer thinking than
           watching cinema -
      most people abhor the riddle of thought,
i find the existence of thought to be
as ridiculous as the "existence" of a soul...
    thought is alien to me,
      its mere existence is alienating,
in that it does not possess all the verb requirements,
yet nonetheless is the crucial moral
compass...
            i thought that i ought to do /
i thought that i ought not to, do...
                   thought is a protruding limb
made invisible by the disguise of its psychic origins...
i understand that extroverts abhor thinking,
and introverts bask in the "sunshine" of about
10 minutes of a decent narrative,
without a book...
            point being: i break down when
a súdòkū doesn't clarify into an ensō...
you **** up once, you **** up the whole puzzle...
actually, cogitans circa cogito is debilitating,
its a consciousness of a conscious,
  trying to limitate conscience -
      i.e. thinking is partially ethics, but mostly
narrative...
but there comes a time when it's useful,
           notably when you fucl up a súdòkū
puzzle and read some heidegger...
      something about aphorism 87 ponderings VI...
for a person so invested in sein und zeit -
so invested in being, and notably in time -
to produce the spatial rather than a temporal
concept of dasein?
  staggering...
                  even though heidegger is more
interested in space, rather than time,
                  to nonetheless write what he did...
mind you, what's the antithesis of the heilig geist?
the zeitgeist -
                and the father?
  the status quo: the un-moveable rock solid
presence of a deity.
                      i'm still bewildered
that heidegger was so obsessed with the temporal
realm, yet produced a spatial concept of
existence...
             why do i think about thinking?
how many mindless acts do people perform
that magnetises other peoples' interest to
"explain" the irrational?
  too many... better to think about thought,
than to think about not thinking.
people act so mindlessly on so many occasions
that it somehow makes sense,
to think about the sixth sense: which is thought.
entertainment wise? well, it's not
exactly skydiving,
       but if you find thinking entertaining,
almost toying with the ethical
dimension aspect of this rubix cube
of unsolvable curiosities among the general
venomous bite of indignities...
    the film's just started...
            and as long as you don't think
that it's all going to turn out into a telekinetic /
telepathic freak-show...
         strange, even the most sensible of
people manage to believe in a god
       in the realm of philosophy, or a soul...
that's a heresy and also abhorred is a belief
that thinking can translate into
telekinesis, or telepathy.
           i like to think about thought -
because it eradicates all ethical questions of
the θ-δει / θ-πρεπει -
        all moral actions stem from having
the capacity to invert thinking-as-narrating into
thinking-about-thought...
             it's almost like: licking the membrane
of the unconscious, to agitate it
into "speaking" confucian, i.e. the golden
motto: not unto others, as not unto yourself.
this, amazing to finally realise that
the primary concept emerging from heidegger
is a spatial rather a temporal orientation
of existence...
                more importantly: the so called
"ambiguity", or rather inconsistency?
so necessary in writing,
  if i was given a book as rigid as a rubric
of the times table of 2 x 1 trough to 2 x 9...
     i wouldn't be reading and immediately
"revising" / innovating -
   i'd be reading a well polished novel that
does not require my input, or subsequent
desires for an impetus to write...
        i'd quite simply settle for the end-score...
and grind out the meat of the narrative
into a session of commuting back home
on the tube, perhaps once in a while falling
asleep...
               there's essentially time,
as there's essentially space,
       and there's quintessentially thought...
where the two essential extremes converge
is already ****** obvious -
               actually, it's not like this:
there's the quintessential time -
   as there's the quintessential space -
    so uncorrupt-able as they are on their own,
than even when merged:
  there's the quintessential space-time continuum...
  thought? it's essential, but it's not
quintessential -
          thinking never was, and never will be,
the most perfect un-embodiment of man;
        sure, thinking is essential -
but it will never be quintessential...
                            thought can become corrupt,
time only becomes "corrupt"
      by nostalgia -
   as space becomes "corrupt" by claustrophobia /
agoraphobia.

You ask me what I'm thinking,
every time my answer is you.

I'm thinking of the way my heart swells when I talk to you.
I'm thinking of how comforting the sound of your voice is.
I'm thinking of the ways I could make you laugh.
I'm thinking of all the different ways your face will light up when you look at me.
I'm thinking of how I can't wait to hold your hand.
I'm thinking of how I'll look into your eyes and know this is right.

I'm thinking of how soft your skin will feel after a shower.
I'm thinking of how our bodies will feel pressed up against one another.
I'm thinking of the ways I want to trace the outline of your body with my fingers.
I'm thinking of how your skin will taste after a dip in the ocean.
I'm thinking of how your lips will taste and if they'll taste just as heavenly every time.
I'm thinking of how kissing you will never get old.
I'm thinking of how our bodies will dance under the night sky.

I'm thinking of how happy you will make me.
I'm thinking of how happy you already make me feel.
I'm thinking of a future with you.
I'm thinking of how easy it is to fall for you.
I'm thinking of how we were destined to meet.
I'm thinking of how the stars are aligned perfectly for us to enjoy life.
I'm thinking of how lucky I am to have a future with you in it.

I lay here
Thinking
Poetically thinking
Thinking of words that can flow
Thinking of hard times and the good
Thinking of all the lies I've been told
Thinking of all the times I've been hurt
Thinking of all the times I had to walk past a casket
Thinking of all the times I've been in the hospital when I was a kid hoping you get better
Thinking of the time I walked home and found you dead
Thinking of all the times of watching law and order and I knew the signs
Thinking of the times we traveled
Thinking of your beautiful smile
Thinking of the story when you first held me in your arms
Thinking of the story about when you adopted me
Thinking of your kind heart
Thinking of us on how were intertwined
Thinking of all the love I have for you
I'm thinking on how much I thank you
Thinking of the day, I will reunite with you again in heaven and the stars.

I´ve been thinking too much of a past without a body
of a spirit who felt a little shoddy
with a mind that wanted control of heart it could never fully control.
I´ve been thinking of the taliban, men dressed in faith for what they believe in
I´ve been thinking about belief and in what I believe in, if I believed enough to sacrifice my body for a future I can´t be sure of,
I´ve been thinking if I were givin time as my present where would I like to be, well, the present is a gift worth opening even if only for one life my life a life will affect your life and in this time we´ve been givin we make choices based on handouts from a god who loved you more then you thought possible of a soul that shined perhaps too birghtly of a heart which holds nothing but silence in a world created by our majesty
I´ve been thinking that maybe I am god, that maybe I was created as the image of myself to learn a few lessons from hard times and grow a little hope from good times
I´ve been thinking I could be a great man, maybe I´m already great man, that I am still a boy trying to recieve his addition muptiplication division arithmic badge of honor in second grade 2 plus 2 was all I could stutter but it didn´t matter cause I kept going until I dropped out for reasons that could seem a little sadder but I believe in a world that I can be me even with out a college degree, that when Im ready I can go back without a worry of how maybe it should be
and I´ve been thinking about a beautiful place thats really nowhere when I sit in silence with silence with myself, I find it there but for some reason I make the road bumpy and with too many hills where my imaginary feet get ill from too much foaming from all this guilt that maybe I´m not good enough to reach where buddha sat and I´m not worthy to make a change in world where judgement doesn´t really mean a thing except for what we think of ourselves.
Yea, I´ve been thinking of blue worlds where blue´s jazz and blue´s slide guitar and blues harmonica and saxophone and trombone and trumpet is all they play because it speaks a truth no ones heard before even with out words then I start thinking thats what it means to me how can I portray that feeling to somone else
I´ve been thinking as I cook myself some toast that maybe if I work a little bit harder and don´t expect everything handed to me I could cook something better which requires more than a couple strokes of butter
that
Maybe if I belive in what I think that I can make any reality real with just a thought that if what I say in my head is actually what I believe then what have I been thinking with thoughts like ¨I´m afraid that no one can love me¨and thoughts like ¨I wish I could be like someone else¨that if what we think is actually what we create then I should be thinking that hey I am great.
So I´ve been thinking change happens with thought so maybe I am changing more than I thought with just these thoughts I think when I´m lingering through time and greeting each wave of negativity with something close to positivity which could be said is the same as god, that love that the devil so fondly loves to hate is really the image that I´ve always been its just that I forgot with these distracting thoughts,
I started thinking then I need to stop, destroy, annhilate these demon thoughts of hate hate hate which really are just fear fear fear but then I realized that I only patronized that fear with more hate and I added gas to a fire that quickly ate my soul before I realized I was on a downward spiral, confused on thought alone of I´m supposed to be a better man not a sadder man because when I added something else to that fire it spread and I realized I needed some sort of water which could do things a little bit harder
Thats when I thought to love the hate the same as you love that love.
When I see those thoughts tromping through this sacred vessel I don´t get angry at their muddy feet instead I say its okay, sit back relax make yourself at home, and they slowly settle into this vast expanse of infinity which some have called your heart. And thats when I began to forgive myself for all that shame and anger I cast like a shadow and I began to forgive myself for all that guilt and suffering I cast like harry potter and I began to forgive myself for when I was too scared to talk because I thought that somebody out there wouldn´t like me and I began to forgive myself for all that I had embodied with this false self I had thrown out to protect this oh so holy body,
I´ve been thinking that maybe being vulnerable isn´t as bad as its been cracked out to be and that maybe one day I´ll finally become what I am in silence
that
what I´ve been thinking is maybe this is just another thought that could be forgotten, but thats exactly when I need to remember what I already know of how the future should be exciting and the past has always helped remind me that when I´m living right now I no longer have to hide behind thoughts which no longer scare me.
I´ve been thinking it all starts with a thought, something I believe we should all be taught.

So What’s Happened To Thinking... ?
Cos’ It Seems To Be Sinking...

Into Holes Filled With Fools...
Whose Schooling’s Not Schooled... !?!

It Seems More Like Confused...
And Fuelled To ABUSE...
How Thinking Should Be Used... !!!

Cos’ It Shouldn’t Cause Feuds...
It Should Surely IMPROVE...
The Way Humans Move...
And Should Now Embrace TRUTH... !!!

Instead of Breed Thinking...
That Is Now DISMISSIVE...
of... Critical Thinkers...
Who Do NOT Wear Blinkers... !!!

UNLIKE These Politicians...
And Their Submissive Minions...
Who Deal In DIVISION... !!!

So What Is The Mission...
of Modern Day Thinking... ???

To... INFLATE RACISM...
And Technical Visions...
of A Future That’s Driven...
By Robotic Technicians... ?!?

And NEW Gender Groups...
Who Get Angered By Views...
That... DON’T Fall In Line...
With Their New Gender Vibes...

And It Seems Now That Tribes...
of Various Types...
Are Living Some... BIG LIES... !!!

When It Comes To The Cliques...
That They Choose To Move With...
Who Deal In... HATRED... ?!?

Do They THINK About This...
Before Cashing Their Chips...
With NEW AGE RACISTS... !?!

Whose Thinking Enlists...
Using Negroes Like CHIMPS...
Or Yeah That’s Right Monkeys...
Who’ll Sell Souls For Money... !?!

So They Can Run Their Mouths...
Just Like Puppets And Clowns...
Whose Thinking Is Pulled...
Like Strings That Are Used...
By Puppeteer Crews...

Are These People So Weak...
That Their Thinking Now Speaks...
Just Like Human Sheep...
Or Sheople Who BLEAT...
Like... Sheep In A Field...
of Sheep Dogs That Creep...
To Affect Their Psyche... ?!?

Is FEAR What They’re Thinking...
When They’re Out ACCEPTING...
Societal Deals...
That Then CONTROL Their Speech... !?!

Because What I Now See...
Is Thinking That WREAKS...
of Speech That CONCEDES...
To Much That’s... CRAZY... ?!?

New Thinking That’s SHADY...
And Clearly Quite Lazy...

When It Comes To Music...
And Creative Movements...
And Those Who Are Linked...
To This... INDUSTRY Biz’... !!!

Where … Entertainment...
Is Still Making Payments...
To Heads Who Are RACIST...

Whose Thinking Breeds Statements...
In... TV Locations...
As Well As News Stations...
Where Lefties Are CLAIMING...
Their Nations Hold Greatness...
When Racists Are Stationed...
In... Whitehouse Locations... ?!?

And Let’s Not Forget...
About Modern Women...
Whose Thinking Is Driven...
By... STRONG Feminism... !!!

That’s Driving A WEDGE...
Between Women And Men...
That’s Causing PROBLEMS...

When Men Now CAN'T Speak...
Or Just THINK... Sexually...
WITHOUT Their PERMISSION...

Is This New Feminism...
FEMINIST CHAUVINISM... ?!?

While Transgender Women...
Are Making Transitions...
That Now Have Them Winning...
Awards That Were Meant...
For WOMEN TO GET... ?!?

Does All This Make Sense... ?!?
When You Take Time To Check...
New Thinking That’s Set...
Some Very Strange Trends... ?!?

And Of Course We Have Wars...
Now Waged Between Hoards...
of Young And Old Thinkers...
About Our... Traditions...

That Are Clearly OUTDATED...
To Young People Claiming...
That Old Heads Are Hating...
And Just Need Replacing...

Well Thinking Does Change...
And Progress In Ways...

That May Well Seem Strange... ?!?
To Those Who Have Age...

But I Have To Now Say...
That Thinking These Days...
DISMISSES Brain Waves...
of... Common Sense Ways... !?!

And Many Young Minds...
Have Been Bred To DECLINE...
... Common Sense Lines...
And Thinking That’s WISE...

They Can Hate All They Like...
But In Time They Will Find...

That OLDER Opinions...
Are Driven By Living...
That’s Created WISDOM... !!!

It’s WISE Heads Who LISTEN...
To Thinking That’s Driven...
To STRENGTHEN Positions... !!!

Rather Than Be Submissive...
To Thinking That’s Sinking...
And CONDITIONED To Shrinking... !!!

Cos’ It’s Now On A Mission...
That Should Be FORBIDDEN... !!!

REJECTION of LOGIC...
And Common Sense...

....... “ THINKING “.......

promise me! promise me to get me out of this hell-hole i put myself in! promise me! i don't know why i put myself through, several days of transcribing a snippet, this was merely a snippet from Kierkegaard's oeuvre, but, how unbelievable! each word was a labour, prop up the book in the right place, read, don't look at the keyboard, let the devil find work for idle hands... look for the devil who would be able to write like he might read Braille! my god, the punctuation, ****** an elephant's ***...the essential Kierkegaard - edited by howard v. hong & edna h. hong: hurt my sensibilities, or, rather, my pedantry, when it comes to punctuation... transcribing is not plagiarism... its brick-layer toils... one word, after another... if i were translating from Danish, i think i'd punctuate the text better: to give it some... panache! some: oomph! you know? this is my dedication, i'm supposed to be awake at 7am... i already shined my shoes, i've already prepped my white shirt, black trousers, black clip on tie, i have my papers (credentials) in order... tomorrow i'll be at the London Stadium overlooking West Ham take on Leeds United in the FA cup... like always, i'll be more interested in the crowd... spotting a pretty girl among the "yobs"... because i truly care about football when it's on the t.v.: in real life... i once stood with three cans of beer and watched a non-league / non-professional match compromising of enthusiasts in a park, at a distance... i couldn't see much... i still don't see much difference... unless it's on the t.v.: the stadium doesnt really "frighten" me... but this one time in the park, i sort of looked the Michael Myers part... headphones in... one young woman was trying to... communicate to this older woman: also walking her dog... about confronting me... i think i "said": gaze... i looked at them... the younger woman was trying to tell the older woman about confronting me... the older woman told the younger woman: YOU, HAVE, NOTHING, TO TALK ABOUT, WITH THIS, MAN! i was drinking a beer, standing... a decent distance from the football match: but i also remember that... that 1995 Charity Shield game at the Old Wembley between Manchester United & Newcastle: ants kicking a grain of sand... obviously i didn't understand why i might pretend to be a *****... my new favorite word... *****... alias for paedohpile... if i don't look menacing and some woman can "think" she stands a chance against me: merely posturing... then we have issues... oh **** me... transcribing... that's worse than plagiarism.... i once did the most pristine plagiarism job on some... social-science course up in Edinburgh... i was having to make up credit scores, being the romantic idiot... losing my virginity to Isabella of Grenoble... oh, get a French girlfriend, take up French... i hate the language... they write what they don't speak: phonetically... which is sort of in line with my prior ambition for the plunge - to transcribe some Kierkegaard, but also translate some SZYMON STAROWOLSKI observations... circa... 1650... the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth... sorry.. it's not going to happen... i've done enough transcribing enough *******'s worth of: this punctuation needs to... "go"... to better understand myself... through this iron maiden of: someone else wrote: what someone else wrote... i'll leave ol' SIMON for another take... given... transcribing is a labour... writing, freely... idiosyncratically: appealing to my, appeal...  how, why, when... oh i can deal with that, these days... it's not even concerning what sort of thesaurus peacocking exfoliation is being used / abused by the writer... i'm... more allured... by... punctuation... since i don't bother to rhyme, since i find all lyricism a tad bit... crass... what else is there? the measure of: how to stop... how to begin... how to "objectify" the conjunction-intermediacy of... punctuation... no manner of human speech can be / could be encapsulated by comparing it to a river... point being... i'd rather write as freely as i can, about the most mundane events in my own life: prop up my subjectivity than... somehow... "somehow"... succumb to some sensible objective reality... objectivity does not give me a drive... it does not equip me with a manly persevence... it's antithetical to what i understand as human nature simply because... ha ha... objectivity has been owned by the English... it's their lot of being sensible... like watching would-be journalists looking at what's currently happening in Kazakhstan... then trying to compare it to... the posturing: the civilian security of protests in Ham-Ham-H'America... and it's like... so what? the people are simply, expected to, take it?! the liberty's of the individual that believes himself to be outside the collective will... sure... well... sounds nice... unless of course... the hive really does come after you... i'm all for individual liberties, after all... i own a private library that could put the public library where i live to shame... although... i'll give them a sly one: Thomas Mann's Dr. Faustus... they owned it, i simply loaned it... fair enough... but i'd rather write about women... i was having my haircut done... closed my eyes... because... hell... the mirror and ****... with my eyes closed i was stroked by this blonde bombshell... we talked about owning dogs, about owning cats... Alsatians? oh, i really have a hard-on for them... i used to own a dobberman... prior to it being illegal to snip their ears and cut their tails... she was a cat that does that to her? like she looks to be self-harming? perhaps she should nickname him Freddy Krueger?! my maine ****? oh... it's rainy, he just sleeps in my bed... he usually sleeps with me.. what?! the bed's big enough for the both of us... i'd love to own a boxer... i'd love to own a rottweiler... i'd also love to own a Triumph bike...

one of my replies... you know, a liter of whiskey can go down well... i get double drunk from good conversation, i rarely encounter what i'd consider a good conversation... that's why... i much prefer to drink alone, of note... i had more fun pretending to talk to myself than expecting "talking" to be an anti-canvas with some, living, breathing: might have kidney failure, etc. punk or, sociopathic? here's the script:

see you now,, i'm just about to rewrite a Kierkegaard transcript.... i can't imagine it being much fun... the whole process is so unoriginal... but oh, oh so necessary... that i sort of don't want to live without it... bonus points... i''ve drank enough to make it... bearable... trans-scripting....i danced a little in my bedroom, donned my cat with a pair of sunglasses.... thank god i'm not kind of a sort of H'american version of a... "winner"... so much of life can be tolerated when it's not being competed for!...

i've just filled out an induction form for the West Ham stadium, played niceties with my supervisor, sent her an emoticon, LOLz back... i'm pumped up, ready to smack a few teenage boys into shape, what, could possibly go wrong? speaking below the depth of breath / audibility, watching the birds... i want, i want to give them a second, a third, a fourth... chance... let me give these people a chance... i know their failures... but... the possibility of being loved by one of them, whether man, or woman, whether pseudo-woman... i'll go as far as to say... i wouldn't mind a "Thai surprise"... i know they're capable of it... give me this already acquired heart of stone... and i'll show you... that they'll bleed rivers of honesty... just a little while... that is all i ask...

this is all, of course, before the plunge begins...
wait...l of course there's more, there have to be constellations
involved!

it was originally titled: Private Library Allure...
now, i'm "thinking": two ripe mangoes...
a mango curry or a mango chutney,
or perhaps, both?!

i have this one particular constellation in mind, that's visible to the naked eye, don't worry about - wait... let me take a second look:

•
                  •


                    •
      •



           •

•
    

            •          (circa)... the big wheel...
the grizzly she... in terms of gods & men...
there's an replica: much smaller...
so i guess this is the microscope: since it is enlarged
while the identical constellation
is a telescope...
       no matter... i'm thinking of this constellation

                                 •
                          
                          •
      
                   •
                       •
                    

                          •
                             •
                                •



              •
          ­                                            •

the scorpion constellation, it only appeared once
(to my knowledge) in pop culture,
in Dreamworks' the Prince of Egypt...

now wouldn't that be a waste... me simply drinking,
not allowing alcohol to be the extra calorie intake
that might require me to scribble...
waste of a good whiskey: should i simply drink it
and not focus on scribbling...

point being, i'm about to undertake something
i'm not very keen on, to prove a point,
i'm about to transcript two of the most profound pieces
of writing that recently caught my attention...

not to mention i'm reserving bragging rights...
my private library is... richer...
than the public library of the town of Romford...
i might be an alcoholic,
but i'm also a bibliophile...
there's nothing more precious thank a book...
perhaps a tonne of bricks...

why did i decide to cycle in these temperatures...
****'s sake... i'm old school,
i don't "trust" wi-fi cordless earphones...
the temperature dipped so low that
now the wires are performing at sub-optimal standards...
sort of hushed...
mind you... i love the cold of the January nights...
******* get such a hard-on for the wind
that they almost feel like they've been pierced...

none of the following will be original content,
but i just have to transcript it...
maybe a whiskey refill... a cigarette...
i need to get into the groove of typing up
someone else's work...
oh ****, there are two of them...
well... at least one of them i will not have to translate...
however: do i want to include the original...
all those diacritical markers (ctrl + c / ctrl + p)
will be rather fiddly... do i have the time?

- oh, right... i'm here... the above was...
"somewhere" / "sometime" else...
a sort of... quantum-dasein...
past-participle... black hole... blah blah...
i'm still gearing up for the transcript
of Kierkegaard...
the translation of that ****** equivalent
of the Czech: YAN HUß

-------------------------------------- (pending line)

the pending line is not moving... i've already
written a pre-scriptum a day "late"...
i think i'll manage the Kierkegaard...
but none of the ****** "crap": since...
i'm not about to translate...

once more, please refer to the essential Kierkegaard...
edited by howard. v. hong...
& edna h. hong...
            hong? i too have a terrible surname...
a bit like ******, or Stalin...
people see Elert... they immediately prompt me
with: so... you're AH-LERT?!
i never hit them back with with...
you sort of missed this zeppelin...
it's etymologically german...
in earnest... it's missing: SCH...
that's... ESCHLERT...
          but i have no trouble with people
who like... low hanging fruit...
pedestrian interactions...
         a peasant among among peasants...
a peasant who can discriminate against
peasants...
my given surname at birth was no much better...
fellow countrymen...
oh... i remember it... this one time...
tricked me...
open your mouth...
so i opened my mouth...
then quickly closed it...
i was spat at... a fellow countryman spat
in my face...
although he was aiming at my mouth...
i hold... not allegiance to the English...
1997... why was i deported?
for being an economical migrant?!
oh... the world is now, somehow, ******* welcome?!
i hold not allegiance to the English:
to the tongue: all...
but i also hold not allegiance to my inherent
****** reference... i'd rather just call it
a "reference"...

i abhor both parties... one for sort of telling me to
******* because:
they're now the church-going party of people
and my grandfather was conflated with being
a communist party member:
sure... since... socialism in a soviet
satellite was very much the same sort of shin-dig
as it was in RaSHa... ROSIYA...
*******... wanking me off a little...
**** Poland... **** England...
both can sink... to... whatever they deem
to be acceptable by their standards of...
oh... in England... peer Lord Ahmed... *****...
Rotherham... fun times!
i don't even want to know anything about
Poland.... my ethnic class by birth...
i'd rather ******* and create trans-ethnic mongrel
gremlins with a a girl from Kenya...
in Kenya...
yeah... me... in Kenya... creating a pseudo-Brazillian
republic of... copper-skinned polymaths &
multilingual freaks!
sign me up!
                  
i really didn't expect to mind much of me...
it's nice that... they read so little nd watch so much regurgitation
of a t.v...

like i once pointed out: objectivity is...
overrated... hell... it's more than that...
by now it has been hijacked by fake-news and
anti-science pseudo-narratives...

which tells you a lot about a people who
seemingly tolerate Muslims...
tolerating Muslims that don't tolerate Sufism...
i'm good with the Turkish barbers...
anything else... you better ask a Hindu...
how do Hindus "tolerate" Islam... if, at all?

these are not my words... they are a verbatim
transcript that most public libraries will not own,
but i own... ergo...

the subjective existing thinker is aware of the dialectic of communication. whereas objective thinking is indifferent to the thinking subject and his existence, the subjective thinker as existing is essentially interested in his own thinking, is existing in it.

(insert: my own questioning furthered from the genesis of this 19th century Danish thinker... point aside... i am... the queen's subject... i am not, the queen's object... the queen is not forcing me to be subjectively objectionable to... say... building a new wing for Windsor Castle... i can't be, regarded as the queen's object... constitutional monarchy doesn't work through the expedience of extension... i am the queen's subject, i am not her object... i am subjected to the queen... the monarch... but i'm not... "objected"? i'm not objecting to the hierarchy she presupposes, predisposes with... it's almost a "paradox"... but as a subject... in the most immediacy... as a subject... i am not her object... i am not her servant! that some people, within her immediacy are her objects, by regal extension, her guards, her... ******* tea nannies... sure... but... i am beyond her claim for being objectified... i am "subjectified"... how? i can fester... concern for the monarch, i can adorn her with "dasein": care... but her regal extension dilutes itself... her regal power... the cut-off point... is... when she can no longer objectify me... i can be no more her ******* tea-*****-nanny... her soldier... hell... a police officer is not made a police officer by some royal decree.... a police officer is a subject of the regal authority... a soldier? an object of the regal authority... why? the soldier serves the crown... the police officer? serves the public: the subject of the subject(s)... not... like the solider: the object of the object... to be subjected to "something": is hardly demeaning when otherwise the supposed stance of being "demeaned" is to be: objectified... counter to any sort of "argument": to be objectified... is to be spared... the experience of being: subjected to... i.e. / e.g. to objectify a woman... is a synonymous expression for... not subjecting a woman to... what objectifying her in the first place might... entail... by objectifying a woman... you're at least not subjecting her to... the undercurrents of objectification per se...

even i am thinking to myself: this sounds stupid...
the fox is currently having an asthmatic fit of giggles
come 2:20am...
if i am objectifying a woman as a "thinking thing"...
then... i'll be less likely to subject her to: think...
if i am objectifying a woman as a hammer...
then... i'll be less likely to ask her to:
also bring some nails along...
that's the positive on the micro-scale...
because on the macro-scale?
i'd rather be the queen's subject than...
be her... well... the extension of the queen:
her object... her tea-*****-nanny...
her soldier... her... prime minister...
it's a ******* weird dynamic... but...
it's the most pristine that has ever existed... period...

constitutional monarchy ought to be
the envy of the world, for some of the bad apples...
it still i... it should never be undermined...
should it ever be... i'd call that... treason!
to the very fabric of reality!
and as someone who was diagnosed as schizophrenic?!
go figure... but don't come cryuig to me...
make, sure...
you have some "ice-cream" **** readily available
to sa e you, some Rotherham **** heart-throb...
why oh why... having lived n these Isles...
for as long as i have...
the would me mothers of my would be children...
i'm not even going to beg to, ask...
low i.q. breeds low i.q.:
naive... people(s)...
           genius is an aberration...
it's a  mutation...better stuid and reproductive...
work along: plenty for the ants..
*******, ants...
and once they age?
darts?! football matches?

i can't blame them!
i have yet to cite them proper...
although: thank god the filter
of having to invest in having to read...
in people actually reading

therefore, his thinking has another kind of reflection, specifically, that of inwardness, of possession, whereby it belongs to the subject and to no one else. whereas objective thinking invests everything in the result and assists all humankind  to cheat by copying and reeling off the results and answers, subjective thinking invests everything in the process of becoming and omits the result, partly because this belongs to him, since he possesses the way, partly because he as existing is continually in the process of becoming, as is every human being who has not permitted himself to be tricked into becoming objective, into inhumanly becoming speculative thought.

the reflection of inwardness is the subjective thinker's double-reflection. in thinking, he thinks the universal, but, as existing in this thinking, as acquiring this in his inwardness, he becomes more and more subjectively isolated.

the difference between subjective and objective thinking must also manifest itself in the form of communication ˣ. this means that the subjective thinker must promptly become aware that the form of communication must artistically possess just as much reflection as he himself, existing in his thinking, possesses. artistically, please note, for the secret does not consist in his enunciating the double-reflection directly, since such an enunciation is a direct contradiction.

ordinary communication between one human being and another is entirely immediate, because people ordinarily exist in immediacy. when one person sttes something and another acknowledges the same thing verbatim, they are assumed to be in agreement and to have understood each other. yet because the one making the statement is unware of the duplexity (dobbelthed) of thought-existence, he is also unable to be aware of the double-reflection of communication. therefore, he has no intimation that this kind of agreement can be the greatest misunderstanding and naturally has no intimation that, just as the subjective existing thinker has set himself free by the duplexity, so the secret of communication specifically hinges on setting the other free, and for that very reason he must not communicate himself directly; indeed, it is even irreligious to do so. this latter applies in proportion to the essentiality of the subjective and consequently applies first and foremost within the religious domain, that is, if the communicator is not god himself or does not presume to appeal to the miraculous authority of an apostle but is just a human being and also cares to have meaning in what he says and what he does.

objective thinking is completely indifferent to subjectivity and thereby to inwardness and appropriation; its communication is therefore direct. it is obvious that it does not therefore have to be easy. but it is direct, it does not have the illusiveness and the art of double-reflection. it does not have that god-fearing and humane soliciude of subjective thinking in communicating itself; it can be understood directly; it can be reeled off. objective thinking is therefore aware only of itself and is therefore no communication, at least no artistic communication, inasmuch as it would always be required to think of the receiver and to pay attention to the form of communication in relation to the receiver's misunderstanding. objective thinking is, like most people, so fervently kind and communicative; it communicates right away and at most resorts to assurances about its truth, to recommendations and promises about how all people someday will accept this truth - so sure is it. or perhaps rather so unsure, because the assurances are recommendations are the promises, which are indeed for the sake of those others who are supposed to accept this truth, might also be for the sake of the teacher, who needs the security and dependability of a majority vote. if his contemporaries deny him this, he will draw on posterity - so sure is he. this security has something in common with the independence that, independent of the world, needs the world as witness to one's independenceso as to be certain of being independent.

ˣ double-reflection is already implicit in the ideas of communication itself: that the subjective individual (why by inwardness wants to express the life of the eternal, in which all sociality and all companionship are inconceivable because the existence-category, movement, is inconceivable here, and hence essential communication is also inconceivable because everyone must be assumed to possess everything essentially), existing in the isolation of inwardness, wants to communicate himself, consequently that he simultaneously wants to keep his thinking in the inwardness of his subjective existence and yet wants to communicate himself. it is not possible (except for thoughtlessness, for which ll things are indeed possible) for this contradiction to become manifest in a direct form. - it is not so difficult, however, to understand that a subject existing in this way may want to communicate himself. a person in love, for instance, to whom his ****** love is his very inwardness, may well want to communicate himself, but not directly, just because the inwardness of ****** love is the main thing for him. essentially occupied with continually acquiring the inwardness of ****** love, he has no result and is never finished, but he may nevertheless want to communicate; yet for that very reason he can never use a direct form, since that presupposes results and completion. so it is also in a god-relationship. just because he himself is continually in the process of becoming in an inward direction, that is, in inwardness, he can never communicate himself directly, since the movement is here the very opposite. direct communication requires certainty, but certainty is impossible for a person in the process of becoming, and it is indeed a deception. thus, to employ an ****** relationship, if a maiden in love yearns for the wedding day because this would give her assured certainty, if she wanted to make herself comfortable in legal security as a spouse, if she preferred marital yawning to maidenly yearning, then the man would rightfully deplore her unfaithfulness, although she indeed did not love anyone else, because she would have lost the idea and actually did not love him. and this, after all, is the essential unfaithfulness in an ****** relationship, the incidental unfaithfulness is to love someone else.

as a side-note... these impossible, to my mind:
imaginary "problems"...
say, for example...
the racist... the non-racist... and the... anti-racist...
do i use racial slurs, sure, but i always tend
to "translate" them to by implicitly urban scenario
tokens... i'm a "******" if i don't get on time,
i'm supposed to work for free...
i think of racism along the lines...
well... you, know... that Pakistani grooming
gang in Rotherham...
it doesn't affect me personally,
i'm a bachelor, i don't have a daughter...
but... even on my level, since i'm so far away
from the issue... i start to get affected...
**** is the lowest of the low...
i once ****** a *******... all giggly and drunk
at first... but then... she started crying during *******...
a burn-out moment on her behalf...
i had to stop... o.k. you're selling yourself... willingly...
but... i'm not going to... whatever...
if she might have claimed p.t.s.d.
i could also claim the same...

*** is ugly... just before perching myself on the windowsill
once the night arrived...
i heard a voice in the darkness... thanking me...
at the end of my garden... i wasn't exactly listening:
i never listen... but these words of: thank you
sort of penetrated me...
where is the supposed "Ummah"
when it comes to the Uyghurs?!
the fond fellows of Arabia... would rather send
their suicide virgins to the western land
with prospect of conquest, with prospect of seeking
our proselytes... than...
keep their Ummah intact... do the Arabs really think
that their Chinese believers are...
worth so little to them?
           where are the attacks on China?!
eh... Pakistani uncle said grandma
then decided to **** some cousin...
  sorry... low... hanging... fruit...
   i need a drink...
                            
        i can understand racism... esp. given the attempt
at a multicultural society...
i rather think of myself as a non-racist...
****** a black girl, ****** a Thai girl...
****** an Indian girl...
but... this... white, female, anti-racism stance?
i don't get it... daddy issues?
they must be daddy issues... parental issues...
you have to purposively make yourself anti-racist...
affirmative action buzzwords...
you can never be: the highest pinnacle of negation:
not-racist... you have to be actively: anti-racist...
you can never be passively: non-racist...
you have to... do... "x, y & z"...

these words shouldn't even see the light of day...
so much *******...
all of it... crass...
as much as the Brazil-Project of interracial
new-Arab interbreeding sounds great...
newly tanned "Spaniards"... "Arabs"...
"Indians"... if you've ever visited Kenya...
i remember being approached by these three gorgeous
Kenyan girls working the pandering circuit...
black skin glistening in the moonlight...
as if someone rubbed them with butter...
plump... one of the local Kenyan boys asked whether
i'd like to visit a local bar... i declined...
i forgot myself... took to the hammock...
slept the whole night in the open...
some ****** stole my cognac while i was asleep...
me? we best interact...
but... interracial breeding sort of disrespects...
the seeming aeons of... what allowed black people
to be black... what allowed white people to be
white...
it's no good, like... black girls are not angry
when the white girls are giving up so much ***
to their male counterparts?

if i'm supposed to "think" about race... sure... i'll give
it a short shot... because i'm expected...
i have a furry river and.. by now:
i'm more res vanus than res cogitans...
i don't think i need to think on the basis of
narration... i'll just be reactionary...
not because it's easier... it just seems rather...
necessary...

anti-racist: tropes! they are just that... people try
so hard to not-be... X... that they almost forget that...
they are X... because they are compensating for
the environment they were brought up in...
daddy's sins... mother's opinions...
by now a racist is better suited for conversation
than an anti-racist... who the ****** bleached "us"?
it's like: i can't the difference between people...
like... Somalis don't look more ancient than the rest
of the Africans?! maybe i should find more Ethiopians...

i sometimes think of "existing" in a way that...
elevates the posit of: exiting...
sure... cogito, ergo... blah blah...
but that's not enough... to exist is also readying
yourself to exit... existing is a pseudo-continuum
of rented... time, body... in order to...
make the banal finalities of / for an exit...

could you ever, with your ears, express a piece of music, as: fluffy? dark soho's piece is fluffy; and by god i was the pretentious one at the beginning of the 20th century critical of the emerging music... but i'm the one merging at the beginning of the 21st century: and it's a T.S. Elliot scenario: the overload of rhythm: industrial core due to the industry being foetal sieg heil! and so many have fallen for the nostalgia trap... it's not coming back: against the thump thump gyroid reproductive muscular we emerge from... for whatever lack of drums in the orchestra: we're paying for it with an excess of techno techno Bob the goldfish cardboard box dance sequence... or as some would suggest: filling in the gap about the joke concerning a triangle being a part of the orchestra and the person educated in it, rather than the harp.

ah, the blank, and i have to work on it: let's imagine i was just
cooking a pork stew for my father and you don't
bother to ask why someone's surname is written
Raßer - and you don't know how
to pronounce it: and you end
up with razors - which you end up saying
racer - or how about sharpening
the s into a zed - how's that?
this is surgical activity while you you're
at at the butchers: necromancy aplemty:
when god speaks, the devil whispers -
American divergence of the pronoun
y'all / you all -
                           we the safeguard
and they the paranoia -
                                    take it slow,
imagine yourself living in Alaska:
you're exposed to the elements
and Prometheus isn't handy:
  all you have is west London drool
that later translates into easter in London,
Ld: isn't even an postal code:
given Greenwich, bellybutton on the world
they're bound to abuse / feel special
                 about, it's just a John Bishop
          Scouser type of beating.
                  ya - i say i aye, you frostbite of
culture, ya yarn ball of ****!
    oh 'ere we go: the red-coats are hunting
foxes: sort of scenario -
   the sooner they ******* a killing
the better for me: 'ave that one with a grizzly:
             some say the longer the yawn
the greater the applause -
      yo! Yogi! turntable of Las Vegas
says you better gamble on hibernating in the
effing Hermitage!
  - we say a lot of y'all when we imply the
plural, don't we? terrible, ****** thuggish
'n' all, to say it.
   i have five pages worth of notes,
and even though i'm drunk,
i came across a foundation, i'll never be ask happy
at i am right now,
   i signed a copy of my book (look! i don't
have a publicist, i don't have the ******* swagger,
i have the inferno that says:
  when the writing dries up, get a proper job;
if the writing doesn't dry up?
             you're less than necessary than a
supermarket shelf-stacker...
                 there are succumbing reasons that
explain the affair later) -
      no i'm about to sell my first copy -
  i say to her: when you working this circuit next?
Friday night? i'll tell you how much i'm selling
for, well: i'll never be this happy: ever -
it really doesn't matter how much for how little:
   i'm not exactly a family animal: farmed -
i'm political: through and through -
   by the time i finish this whiskey i'll be
demanding something new...
    i don't think your able limbs do idle chores:
i just think admire that they do them
and hardly complain: i blame it on the workers'
encouraged banter - and that's called solidarity.
still, right now, it's all about
dark soho's: dark moon in stonehenge -
       or why you never take l.s.d.
   question arises with Bach...
and polyphony - again, non-linear polymers:
   back when the Germans were at it
music sliced through the air
                   - or the modernity of lost
string (quartets) and woodwinds -
          only the thing plucked rather than in slicing
stroked kept from the strings:
    it was truly a devolution via brass -
   you can have the iron age,
but this is the brass age -
                   and subsequently the evolution
or filling the void of orchestral percussion,
which began with jazz: how orchestra was stripped
of woodwinds and strings and elevated
the humble triangle and enforced drums
and the rhythmic transcendence of limb and heart
and less ear and mind -
           oh the spontaneity thus involved:
forever the enigma of the composer's ability
to say much more than *A, when saying in A# -
oh hell: music used to be the Mongolian horde
of all things imaginable,
                  the screams, all the entrenching
embodiment of battle: soothed -
  but in our apathetic guises: music is a variant
of the once exfoliated, thus hushed:
music is expressing a war in waiting - or a war
that's not to be - once music music ascribed
wind and tornado toward its elemental composition -
these days there is less wind, and more earthquake:
we are exposed to a trembling -
           an overt percussion methodology:
that's not fire and the storyteller / poet by
the lonesome huddling of nomads by the fire
with oud and recitation of the to come Quran:
we are experiencing a complete reversal of wind:
here we have dark soho's tectonic cardiovascular:
over stating the percussion until the eventual
obliteration of breath, and subsequently
the flatline of the heart's rhythm: to reach the zenith
of a flatline: beehive musicology.
         it's all earth: and the quaking
rather than a waking into.
                  sure: to the alien ear outside the populace
of those that listen to that kind of "****":
but let me assure you:" you can intellectualise
anything beyond the guilty pleasure:
or else - care to disclose your opinions about doggy?
once we were slicing and ******* -
these days? we're hammering, Soviet committee
said: hammer hammer hammer...
            gravitational drilling against the Catholic
lessons of worldly-detachment akin to a Gagarin:
and all the world's problems morphed into
an image of moving away from earth...
    far far away...       well: we're grounded, like it
or not.
              i love that: y'all -
                          it's as if we all need to agree, ~.
and what better way to actually open a poem up
if not to say how prose is a miser and poetry
the mad spender, or compose: he had / another thought
he wished to take / but...
           originally
                    he had
                  another thought he wished to take
                 but...
saving an Amazonian tree, suggesting that: one by one.
i'll sell my first copy on Friday,
i just need to know how much money was put
into printing it -
   and it will be the happiest i'll ever be -
who cares that it's only 1... if i were selling
100,000 copies i'd be thinking of buying a Mercedes
to do away with the capital...
      oh right, the poem (six pages of notes):
the question, what does it all mean?
       i'm thankful that the all means very little,
or at least enough for physicists to take a bother
in answering:
               i'm just thankful to say that at least
bites / bytes / isolated units have more meaning
than the whole... i.e.?
do i care what the universe means, more so
than i known what the word darkened means?
                 pause for thought -
the well established organic search engine that memory
is: and never will be: an algorithm (engine) -
           still the organic variation of accessing it
reveals Rodin's statues -
                        post-Rodin (Rho-dan: ****** iota!
why so naked in the first place?!) -
            the point where it's not so much enigmatic that
you wish to replicate: but entomb, and mould
a statue worthy of the perpetuated cut-short
and mediating the idea that thought has also
the faculty of imagining and memorisation
that hardly translate into being via ergo...
       if that's the case: you're demented via the
ergo of memory... and deluded via the ergo of
imagining -
                      or Frankenstein / Disney respectively:
but never the extinguished cogito, somehow,
oddly enough:
                          and by the way - no one is going
to question my opinions because dialectics was
giving the hemlocks... my opinions
will only become passed around like Bulgarian
Versace copyright thefts, or because they
were never ideas: attachment .pdf
                   will never entertain someone else's thought,
or because they were originally always opinions
will be consecrated on the attachments of .jpeg:
ever wonder why the crucifix always
mobilises so much emotional foundation to
react and protect a torture-filled instrument
worthy of worship? me neither.
                but that's the whole beginning:
we ensured our memory is eroded by an easily
accessed algorithm - we prefer the goggles to
mensa -
                   and if i were a technophobe: e ah e ah oh...
McDonald would turn out to be McTrump:
'cos' i wouldn't be using it.
              then how to synchronise the senses:
you surely can't leave one the prime consumer of
all the things around you:
     i guess that as stated: you can't live out a life
whereby one is polarised, and the others recessively
make your thinking into potato -
   then again: not polarising one of your senses
will leave you thinking that old fantasy that
you live in a hologram "reality": which i mean by saying:
if one of your pentagram limbs isn't polarised
like a blind person, your thought will claim a sixth
sense status - and subsequently you'll experience
either a second chance of allowing one of your senses
to be stressed / polarised, or all your senses will become
overpowering your non-sense: that's thought into submitting
to a polarity / vector: kindred of
the manual worker feeling his trade take
perfect replication -
a composer polarised by "hearing" -
a painter polarised by "seeing" -
a poet polarised by "speaking" -
a chef polarised by "tasting" -
   a perfumer polarised by "scenting" -
and within the sixth sense extension:
a politician polarised by "thinking" -
  the first antonym suggestion comes within the latter's
parameter: mobilising or puppeteering:
would i care to find variations for the latter? no.

     interlude... opening of page 3 of notes on a windowsill...

and how often is soul ascribed a sensual dimension?
i guess as many a time thought isn't ascribed one:
necessarily made into nonsense.
soul? what do i mean by that? the part of you
that isn't indestructible, but, rather,
the part of you that feels that ease: the uninhibited
correlation (verbiage necessary, darling,
if you want the gist of it) -
when at ease you're not really ascribing to yourself
thinking, but a narrative -
  hence your notion of being indestructible,
or young.
      when thinking is easy we're not actually thinking,
we're narrating, hence the majority of us
are clogs in the machine, and once the machine works
we're upbeat about it, because we prefer to narrate
ourselves into life than think ourselves into it:
primarily because (even i included):
we lack a public addressal attache to make
vague concerns over our: inhibitions -
we are entrusted with inhibitory encrusting
for the sole purpose (we should be afraid of
suggesting): let's see who falls off the ferris wheel
first and we can entrust our congeniality toward
the joke: thank **** it wasn't me, later...
          but still:
if were were really intended to think
rather than narrate we'd be given global warming
solutions everyday...
   there's nothing in us that suggests an 'ought',
a moral choice to later say: thought
                      that could fish-hook us out of
kissing the narrative goodbye -
  narration is an undisturbed faking of thought -
as such the 'ought' is never thought of:
because there's a narrative going on
that's more important than anything requiring
even the most basest obligation.
       we are never obliged to be, because we are
never obliged to think: it's strange how the
two are anti-synonymous due to the ergo disparity:
as if one produces the other, or the former
the latter.
              thinking you're good never precipitates
into being good - and vice versa:
   for all i know i know fake rather than falsifiable
saintliness: the power of the scientific
  suggests that i should be Baron von Scorn
when it comes to the ignorance of testifying
         against people who abhor science
and reproduce, nonetheless, with failure to
transcend deformities: because deformities are
glorified and all forms of ability demonised:
so it looks quasi-Vatican-e.
                   preface to a Michelin star:
start with a ******: work your way down:
enjoy your meal, bygones-be-bygones:
you very happy people.
                  but i never understood why
the idea of thought has never the opinionated phrase:
me, exponentially, to no book's avail!
        p.s. as to be ever written!
    thought conscripts man to rubrics -
for example? examinational candélabre -
  some call it i.q., other's call it: for god's sake man,
****** shoot! shoot!
                        and the flying toes and digits:
thumbs away: booh booh Blitz.
                        first thought: that Jersey song:
fifth of November - that Fawkes ****
who almost.... n'ah.
                            in case you're narrative:
thought has its narrative: it's transcendental -
phenomenology comes into play with
narratives and Lady Gaga and how you're an
"individual": thought is acquired trying to transcend
atomic electron orbits that says: electron clouds -
or it's there, but it isn't there, but it's not there,
but it's there: huh?
                         narration conscripted to the rubric
of school exams at school: palpitations, sweat,
nerves... in this scenario thinking is actually
regurgitation -
                          actually we're still doing the Elvis
Costello hope: while narrating we pass from
these shackles of having to think lessons through
when in fact: we're gearing to having no need
in having to learn them primordially, period!

the paranoiac "they" are eroding our protective
membrane -
    they begin with memory -
         it's not that we care to remember certain things,
but by educating us in the Pythagorean theorem
they're not necessarily dressing us in bow ties either -
they need to implant an abstract educational
thought to replace our natural assimilation into
a narrative that we ourselves have created -
       they need to create erosion within our
memory to stop us coagulating our sense of memory
within a framework of us imagining backwards
rather than forwards:
      the cinema of the mind means memory utilises
imagination to do cartwheels backwards
rather than forwards: because forwards is always
a Disney pharmacology of the neon hyper colouring.

or how they made us escape the "Alcatraz"
of the couch of cognitive narration into an
iron maiden of thinking -
                    in this realm narrating is disparaging
from thinking: narrative is a comfort zone:
thinking is a discomfort zone -
                       but neither me nor you will
become a Newton in terms of narrating the ideas:
so why the hell would they want us to think?!
       concerning Heidegger:
the problem is not that we're not thinking -
the solution is that we're narrating and have
no urge to write books, and thank god for that!
               or man, as the pentagram of the senses,
reversed into thought as the sixth sense calamity
and reversed back as that sense missing
and the tetra exemplified...
         when learning what is the weakest point,
the audio or the optic-receptive stimulation?
                         i mean, the senses over accuse
thought's complexity as if it were a sense akin
to them, hence the suggestion nonsense;
well of course, thought is actually non-sensory -
     i just suggested that when thinking
i'm not polarising any of the penta -
         i'm suggesting that when thinking i'm
invoking the tetra - as if blind or deaf -
but that means i'm deviating from the superstition
that a sixth correlative mediatory balance exists
between the two dichotomies -
                            the senses will always treat
obscure thinking as if obscure narratives:
even though i know how much a price of bread
costs in the 21st century -
                              what i'm saying is that
the nonsense assertion is also true for the other:
not having had the chance to polarise one
of its senses to point toward the artefact use of
wh

Positive thinking
or negative thinking?
Or think real?
Then clear thinking and
straight thinking
divergent thinking
and radiant thinking
convergent thinking and
dynamic thinking
rational thinking
scientific thinking
or no-thought thinking
God-mind thinking
or free-thinking
Oh for goodness’ sake! –
*just think!

thinking about how cops are beating protestors senseless not even 20 minutes from where i live.
thinking about how they block off the streets and stand unmasked, batons in hand, other hand resting pointedly on their gun.
thinking about how it could be me next— another unspecified black face and black body and black existence snuffed out— a hashtag, a mural.
          (and those are the lucky ones.)
thinking about how a memorial is the best case scenario for a black life.
thinking about the bodies in the street.
thinking about blood splattering the ground, mixing with paint and obscuring the “black lives matter” lettering on the road.
thinking about the chalk art and loud music in a neighborhood soon-to-be-gentrified.
thinking about how we’ve grown used to the stench of rotting flesh outside our doors.
thinking about the taste of blood in my mouth from my nearly-severed tongue i didn’t realize i was biting.
thinking about the tension in my neck and jaw.
thinking about the way my eyes never seem to close.
thinking about the eyes that will never again open.
thinking thinking thinking.

Here I am, thinking about you,
While he moves his hand through your beautiful hair,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As your passionate moans fill the air,
Here I am, thinking about you
While he kisses your soft neck,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As you get hotter with every peck,
Here I am, thinking about you,
While he stumbles to take off your shirt,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As he rushes to take off your skirt,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As he roughly thrusts his hips,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As you can’t get enough of his lips,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As you reach your peak,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As you both can barely speak,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As he lies that he loves you,
Here I am, thinking about you,
As you take his words to be true
And here I am, thinking about you……….

i can claim to have conjured up an
antithesis to the cartesian
res cogitans -
    i.e. the thinking thing -
   why? because i once could claim
a continuum, ad nauseam narratio -
toward a nauseating narrative -
and it was filled a continual presence
of thought,
  it's hard to imagine one's being
as completely filled with thought -
and no thoughtless action -
take for example exercise -
no person in existence actually has
a coherent thought or, rather a
     cogitans continuum -
           maybe the old flicker of an ego
with a word springs to mind,
but there's never a narrative when engaged
in exercise,
thinking becomes momentarily
non-existent, the body does not gravitate
toward a mind-body dualism...
                    and in this light i took from
buddhism the ides of meditation,
but made adjustments to it,
  this is a burning thought, or rather:
an purposed abstinence from thinking...
      its the mechanised body, at rest,
in the same way a mindless task gravitates
to a blank slate mind where mere thinking
hinders efficiency at a task,
a task that can in turn, become even remotely
pleasurable, given its mundane essence,
but also agreeable, in that it can become
completed more easily through
                         as one might make an analogy to:
sharpening a pencil, or a knife...
    the only pleasure in this world
is that of perfecting a menial task into
an art form...
          i look at my father roofing,
    yes, the scottish widows' h.q. near st. paul's
if my roof, in part,
              but when you can overcome
the menial labour, and profess the ultimate
proficiency of the labour at hand,
and ice-skate by comparison of
labouring rather than walking up a sand-dune,
you know what i mean.
abstract thinking is a labour process,
yes, ha ha, very pedantic of me to stress
that manual labour is harder than intellectual
labouring -
but then the mind-body duality becomes
a dichotomy...
                when inspected thus.
what do i do all day? i attempt a modern take
on buddhist meditation,
        in that: i once thought meditation had
to be this peace-invoking scene,
   under a tree, on a sunny day,
  whatever the parameters were, became shattered
by my re-invention of the counter-cartesian
"methodology"...
            i moved past heidegger's
dasein -
and the question of pluralism -
thank **** heidegger deals with pluralism and
not relativism, esp. moral,
since that is most abhorrent.
             the question of being in heidegger's
terms is best ascribed to named:
       newton, shakespeare, jefferson,
you name them...
        being is a form of magnetism -
                        the "question" of being,
is answered with beings -
it's beside the point to call for analogues -
that being is supposed to spawn analogues -
a **** similis to prophet or a genius -
hardly... existence is a lottery,
we get our deal of cards, and we play them
as we "thought" we intended to.
         the final point to make is that,
to gravitate toward by "buddhist" concept
from the western, cartesian concept of
res cogitans is not whether so much
of man's thoughts are wasted upon
the ad (nauseam) continuum of narratio...
the final barrier is to breach the threshold
of whether thinking is the rightful carrier
of any moral question...
            i.e. whether thought = (θ)ought (i)?
which is why i invented the concept
     / object (that is concentrated on) -
    when not exercising or labouring to endure
the mundane presence of narrative "thinking" -
i call it the slingshot...
  or, more technically: res vanus -
an empty thing.
   i stretch the rubber of the res vanus for
a whole day, but at the end of the day
i pour myself a drink and wait for a release point,
where, in the end,
i actually do become a thinking thing -
but more or less: res echo -
                my thought suddenly begins
to echo...
             from my mind to my body and
then onto a page, in writing;
                     but this dynamic only happens
when i treat my thinking as non-coherent,
compartmentalised, shattered,
  a rubic cube of attention-seeking deficints
in the sensual world engaged in seeking my
attention for the observer,
of what is the unobserved world...
it is i, who have to be the observed,
    and become so, by "seemingly" not thinking,
well, narrating my own little
solipsistic take on things...
            and to think, once upon a time,
i found so much pleasure from "thinking",
i.e. narrating... imagine my bewilderement
to have found that actual thinking,
is to actually not, think!
     like any other celibacy, which is quiet
funny...
because only by restraint, can you actually
conjure a non-self-sycophancy,
  of the most remote universal unit of, truth.

p.s. can you even stagger and believe that
the greeks already had graphemes?
     in the title, or so i "think" -
as ever, thinking ought to be a certainty
   of the uncertainty of thought per se,
                 doubt -
how ugly thinking became with the existentialists
who exchanged the end product: doubt,
with the end product: denial...
whereby by thinking became the
uncertainty of the certainty of thought:
minus the per se.

I lay a blanket over my head
Darkness around my bed
My soul empty
Thinking
Lurking my mind
Threw space & time
Thinking
Who am I
These words
That's just going to be kick down
The curb...
Thinking
Sleeping in my ***** jeans
With my boney knees
Thinking
Love will take turns
For a lesson to be learn
Thinking
Money is unity  
But really its nothing to be greedy
Thinking
One race one love one us.
Mix race maybe a new blood to bate in
Thinking
Not coming home until these
Dreams (devils) get bored
But I got to say.
Thinking...
Thinking...
Thinking...
Too many moons but I am one man
On my way...

i've been awake since 6am
i'm running on two and a half hours of sleep
i've been on the road since 7am
and i'm writing this at 1pm
i'm thinking about greggs sausage rolls
thinking about where i'm going in life
thinking about when this road will end
thinking about slowthai's yugioh cards
thinking about how much i love frank ocean
thinking about how i interpolate milo lyrics to fit my life
though i probably couldn't tell you what his words mean
thinking about how i drift from one person to the next
desperately searching for a new friend to cling to
thinking about why i didn't shave my face
for two weeks i was scared that with a blade in reach
i'd be tempted to slice my throat
if i drowned, would my body float?
thinking about how i should cut my hair
thinking about how i can act cuter
thinking about that coil girlfriend
but maybe i'll go for a boy instead
i burned my mouth on a greggs sausage roll again
so it looks like it's all going to plan
sometimes i view greggs as a temple
and the sausage roll is my zen master
i find solace in cheap british bakeries
just like how i find peace in a black man's philosophies
today i'll get my groceries from the nostrum grocers
and write poems at the apex of my sleepiness
this road is only going one way
and i can't go back to pick up the pieces
so i collect what i can to stitch together a new tapestry
made out of the few remaining pieces of the old me
maybe one day driver will say i have perfect hair
thinking about how excited i am to read tallen's messages on discord
it's nice hearing about his l5r discourse
thinking about how i promised to deliver instrumentals for quetzal
but i never did get started on them
thinking about my friend gabe's new album
and how i wish i had richard dawson's falsetto
and how i wish someone would hug me
but if i admitted that, that'd feel pretty needy of me
i don't know when this road will end
maybe i'm stuck on here forever
immortalised in the asphalt like a dead bird
approach me like you would your dad hanging in trafalgar square
i used to smile in every selfie
now it's a chore to smirk at all
but it ain't all bad
i might make curry on saturday
or maybe i'll make chicken soup
and it'll be better than hers
because i'll make sure to remove the bones

if by revision, there be a cartesian "archetype"
we'll require a blank slate, a canvas,
res cogitans isn't exactly a blank slate,
a canvas -
     then again it can be -
   but at the same time this thinking thing
primer is already brimming full with
an ingredient -
         namely? thinking.
                    so how can it be a starting point,
a blank slate, a canvas?
       for some reason i can't imagine thinking
at being directly correlated in translation
into being (esse) - it's more easier
imagining gods, than this sort of translation:
i.e. - how many mindless tasks have we
performed, how many accidents &
subsequently how many automations?
my guess is? too many, or enough to conjure
up the notion of common sense:
that communistic attention seeking ideal
of darwinism: yes, selfish as we are:
the cosmos is a claustrophobic space,
if being a poet, you stand next to a plumber
and how we're in all of this together;
i hardly think you can argue with that
sort of perspectivism.
           that's why i invoked an "antidote"
to the already apparent jackson *******
of res cogitans -
       it's so randomised - so already fresh,
in your fresh, already a cursor's sight away
the next pawn move on the chessboard
of life...
              res cogitans in classical terms
was already a presupposition conundrum -
it wasn't a case of supposing we thought,
or think,
     and by that statement the conundrum
is all the more apparent: we don't...
morality is a construct of acting upon
a thought that really doesn't need translating
into an act, rather: a possibility;
nonetheless it's translated, and thinking
disappears into a sane facade surrounded
by institutional mechanisations
that coordinate it into a: cradle unto the grave
scenario of the abled person:
strapped into a wheelchair of ambitions
primarily the one to: be able to walk again;
which is the don quixote aspect of the "quest".
there is no sense in working from
a cartesian standpoint -
   the res cogitans model was so outdated
that it was almost invisible,
   it was easier to see a beginning -
a god, a "bang", a monkey,
than it was to see a thinking thing...
     a thinking thing translates, precipitating
into a being - with that being said:
what is not objectionable about thought's
loss of an ought to still continue in making
being?
        never mind the crucifixion as a "sacrifice",
the fact that man question himself and
never manages an adequate plateau answer
is already a sacrifice worth enough
of other "worthy" sacrifices:
           and so too, as the universe "exploded"
so too man imploded;
the universe modelled upon an "explosion"
toward the infinite, is also a universe
modelled upon an implosion of man
toward the eternal...
         man has no archetypal cartesian
"currency", there is no cartesian wager -
hence the starting point of thinking is lost
to the sisyphus tract of ego-tripping, "winning",
and all other minor debasements -
    intrigue by insult -
               man was not born to think -
he remained in his unconscious developmental
state for much much later than expected...
i might as well say: i considered myself blind
until i first engaged in memory lego...
     i can't expect to have seen much else
other than the recount of my first
stage of internalised sight - i.e. memory.
again, i cannot consider res cogitans of
classical cartesianism as directly responsible for
esse -
i right thought to be an erasing project,
memory we can escape,
by forgetting, thinking and the imagining of
far better: that's harder to escape from,
memory was never a form of escapism
unlike imagining and thinking have been...
    which is why i asked to begin
with res vanus: for the mind of man
to become a womb, with the ego a foetus -
because it's hard to begin with
a jackson ******* of a res cogitans to
prescribe or even ascribe a "sort" of being...
            what needs to become is what already
is: a blank slate, a canvas,
           imaginative being in the form of punk -
or the thinking being in the form of einstein -
   but both begin with res vanus
rather than res cogitans -
       thinking has its own chronology and
narrative - like any claim to a hierarchy -
    but it cannot begin by stating that
thought was and is the first fact...
    cogitans non est facto primo -
   thinking is not the prime fact -
            it's like a numbers game -
there are the prime numbers, and there are
the composites -
     thinking is composed of imagination,
memory, ethics etc. -
        yet, as is all the more apparent -
    we all sometimes do stupid things sometimes...
and we do them: because we're not thinking;
which means that the prime fact that
we're thinkings things,
                                 is false,
we have to vacate ourselves for a thought
to enter our domain of emptiness -
               ***** the thought, ego the *****;
**** me, i always end up writing the most
bogus crap, after listening to a psychologist,
who has had the advantage of having raised
children, and become less severe a guardian
with some grandchildren, for it's a common fact
that grandparents make better parents
to their offsprings' children
    than a direct relation of mother to child...
even if they were alcoholic communists
            who still managed to buy you a collection
of philosophy books.

.    like cardinal Leto remarked, having received news from Versailles... why is it always the ******* French?

perhaps in a less crude manner,
drinking wine,
while eating raw fruits -

  always a bad combination...
no *****, no meat?
   bad idea... wine, and raw fruit
akin to strawberries?
    irritable bowel movements...

- and that's because Einstein
didn't discover the concept of
gravity, in the format of: sideways?
in the form of orbits?
   expansive waves...
   that allowed for the elliptical interpretation?
like the old
              argument:
      (heliocentric) oval...
             contra the (geocentric) circular
"concern" for...
   whatever is up / down
            sideways in
      the Copernican terminology...
because there was ever a "shape"
concerning the universe,
  and not a medium,
            an extraction for the metaphor
for water,
   gas, liquid, solid...
              and the fourth aspect
of ancient elements:
   its existence in a vacuous "space"?

- but i can't fathom the French at this point...
once upon a time...
one Frenchman equated the motivation
for a "summa summarum"
    to be bound with a thinking,
and a curiosity...

            the current fashion of Latin
abbreviations...
   this... cogito ergo sum?
   it's nonsense...
    speak it long enough...
   and you'll find yourself inclined
to suppose that cogitans per se:
is a motivation, an impetus to exist...
yet... so much of thought it "wasted"
or, rather, to craft an impetus to
"doubt", within the confines of fiction...
but the motivation has lost its
origin within the confines of doubt,
and has been replaced by
the Freudian unconscious,
   a serialized phobia fest... notably
including a, clown...

originally, thought (per se) was
a secondary motivational outlet
that precipitated into being...
    first came... doubt...
   but... these days?
               doubt is a conspiracy theory,
no longer an emotional thrill
to prop-up thinking...
   and we have the French existentialists
to thank for this...
for they subverted their own
idea...

             negation has replaced doubt
as the origin, and motivation
for thinking...
        yet... this sort of "thinking",
has made, its materialization, so, so...
obscene...
    i can hardly find it surprising while
i took to propping two worthwhile
economic outlets...
   prostitution (since they will spend
the money i give them...
on things... i wouldn't even care
for propping up)...

    and... alcohol (scotch whiskey,
russian standard *****...
    shveedish cider...
                     german beer)...

but how can you even claim an existence,
if...
       there is no thrill...
of what is the secular expression of faith:
i.e. doubt?
  how can you replace doubt -
a motivation for thinking, materialized
into being... with negation?
  jean-paul Sartre attempted this inversion -

doubt has been replaced with negation
in his system...
             it's like that cliche of an English
1960s ***-joke / ***-like...
       this... frivolity over a blatant lie...
a lie so... bogus...
    so ineffectual in translating a hidden truth
that... you allow it...
   to care for the cheap comic aspect
of the execution...

but how can the French suddenly
feign to disbelieve their secularism -
   resorting to the antithesis,
namely:

  original

  doubt motivates thinking,
  which subsequently motivates
   being within the confines of reason,
or rather, reasonableness...

20th century existentialists

negation "motifs" thinking,
   which subsequently motifs
"being" within the freedom of non-reason,
or rather, unreasonableness...

   and by negation,
   i don't mean the atomic conceived softening
blow...
   akin to: dis-ease...
    i.e. (as i explained it to one old man
in a park, walking his dog):
  a negation, or ease... a denial of...

how can the Cartesian model work,
when the 20th century French existentialists
began with the presupposition:

   i deny, i think, therefore i exist?
where is the original thrill of
the secular aspect of faith, within the boundaries
of doubt?
              gone... vanished!
****! a **** on the London tube,
during the rush hour,
  during the heatwave
                of the past month!

                   perhaps this only comes
as a method of assimilating an increased population,
within the confines of the Taoist maxim:
the best way to aid the world,
is to forget the world, and let the world
forget about you...

             perhaps... the Andy Warhol 15 minutes
analogy...
      that in order to encompass the individual,
the world, and the individual within it...
   the approach had to change
from the original, exciting, exploration
genesis of thought, bound to the genesis
of doubt...
             having to be replaced by
a genesis of denial...
      the second tier of a secular society...
    the zeitgeist of Herr Censor...
to filter through what we see so often,
faces, bodies...
  but would be much more comfortable
having been bound to Plato's cave,
         of complete shadow theater...

perhaps... but the original tier of
secular societies' alternative to church prescribed
articles of faith...
                     to have replaced
the thrill of doubt...
      with this... Byzantine pillar of denial
as motivational groundwork for
thinking impetus
   that becomes an article of being?
am i the only one to see the frustration,
how, people abhor their being,
being founded upon an act of denial,
rather than an act of doubt?

     the once thrilling maybe (gnostic):
   has become the stale, "i don't know"
    (agnostic) - as if... people can't tell you
whether zebras have stripes!
   where there was once an article
of secular faith (doubt) -
   now?
                        there's not even that!

p.s.
  there has to be a much needed new mantra,
all publicity: is bad publicity -
unless of course you're riding that
fame juggernaut and are paying
for your all-inclusive status akin
   to madonna: since fame dies off
and you, none-the-less invest in the momentum...

one day where i drink a bottle of wine,
half a liter of whiskey,
   and i'm apparently not "screaming" in
my sleep from the heat,
the whole, "apparently", as i retorted:
at 5:15am? i was alseep! i was asleep!
how can i stop screaming in my sleep
like a banshee:
the sleeper and the blind man both see
eye to eye regarding the future to come...

one day without engaging in internet
content: of my own accord,
next day? this... this... lethargy builds
up in me... i end up thinking:
i can't do this any more,
this insomnia culture globalism of
24h news reels is tirying me,
i pick up the sunday newspaper
which i found to be respecteable...
the sunday times,
  i peer into the magazines...
toxic masculinity,
    desire: what three women want...
i'm bored...
well more tired than bored,
bored-tired...
                 what women want:
what an exhausting question...
**** fantasy, beta-male provideer...
yada-yada-yada...
                    
    the only relaxing aspect of the day
(apart from the shade) is watching
england beat india in the cricket...
i always loved cricket sport terminology:
50 overs... innings...
wickets... 6 throws of the ball in an over...
the rest? i'm no atlas...
i don't like the world crashing in on
me with all its problems...
not because i don't have the right
advice to give,
but i remember the most modern secular
motto about giving advice borrowed
from Athos of the creation of alexandre dumas:

the best advice? to not give advice...
you cannot be held accountable
for giving bad advice: and people complaining,
or good advice and leaving
people in your sphere of influence...
asking for more - non verbatim... of course...

second categorical imperative?
tao...
              the best way you can help
the world: is to forget the world,
and let the world forget you...

                        you only need two absolute
maxim vectors to orientate yourself
in this world,
a third is nice, but: it can be kept loose...
at least two on a tight leash...

but one night spent drinking,
not writing anything:
and i am... spent!

                            the boogieman of england's
persistent complaints...
the muslims are not integrating,
the english: we should give them more
ground...
           o.k., o.k.... joe peshi in the role
leo getz in lethal weapon II...
            i too had to integrate!
i said: like **** if you think i'll give up
my native tongue when spoken in private...
you're not getting it...
i'll spreschen ihre zunge, no problem,
i'll even write you pwetty free verses to boot!
but, guess what?
  i will not force you to eat my
sauerkraut, my schnitzels,
                           my smoked sausages,
my raw herrings etc.,
                      integration does not work
within the confines of: pampering to a people
expected to meet you half-way...
what happened when the polonaise attempted
to meet the english half-way?
brexit...
oh come on guv'... is there a ******* tram
echoing its way out of my eye
when you peer into it while i attach
an index finger to the bottom lid to give
you a clearer picture?
           25 years in england: no englush girlfriend:
i guess all the english girls just love, just love love
being ***** by 9 pakistanis
daubed in gasoline...
                   hey: they **** thrill...

i'm tired of the weakness of the english,
the humpty-dumpty nature they are imposing,
self-cencorship,
    appeasing, like neville chamberlain...
bringing back the munich agreement...
not on a piece of paper,
instead... waving a scrap of a toilet roll...
so the english could wipe their own *****
on the promises of the germans...
if this really hurts the northern monkies...
guess how much it hurts the sourthern fairies...
(well... fairy, is a designated region surrounding
devon, bristol, hardly a ******* fairy in essex)...

   why am i foreigner and i share
the same nausea of the natives,
                     exhausted by the narratives?
i guess the english didn't like the polonaise:
but the polonaise are to blame...
came here with a list of benefits they could claim:
without having even lived 5 years among
the natives... housing benefits, child benefits...
believe me: the polonaise are the only
people in the world that hate each other...
to the extent of citing bitter criticisms...
whenever i pass through warsaw to see my grandparents
i am gripped with a sickness:
this homogeneity is too much for me...
shove me back into the east end of London...
too much of the same genetic material...
and that's when the language i am keeping
(seemingly for vanity reasons) fizzles out
into your basic encounter and that basic reminder
that circa 40 million speak it too,
better or worse, but they speak it...

of all the festivals? download...
                                   i wish...
    glastonbury?       not my thing...
kylie? i'll concede: slow? live, with instruments,
rather than the studio original...
wasn't that a cover of
   bowie's fashion?
                  sure as hell sounded similar...
but i heard the cure were playing...
so while writing my father's invoice
i made myself a paperclip bracelet...
   i figured... "let's just pretend to be there"...
and no, the 1980s weren't that bad when
it comes to music,
not now, by comparison...
the cure's kiss me, kiss me, kiss me (1987)
release?
one of those rare albums you can
listen to akin to reading a book...

                       but there's still that persisting
exhaustion... i came from under communism,
from under the iron curtain,
but at least there was the economic aspect
of communism involved...

   only today i watched the story
of the terrible inversion of english jursprudence,
i.e.: guilty until proven innocent...
the 1975 case of the silesian vampire...
an innocent man was hanged...
the original vampire?
    smashed his wive's head in,
then his childrens', then he set himself
on fire...
              then again: the tragedy of those
rare cases of being presumed guilty
rather than innocent...
then the reverse: presumed innocent rather
than guilty and getting away with it,
through the parody of death
and the non existent god...

   there could not be anything more exhausting
than communism without a communist
economic model...
this current state of affairs in the west:
cultural marxism and the yet to be discovered
antithesis of cultural darwinism...

i'll use the cartesian chirality for a moment:
sum ergo cogito...
i don't like using political terms...
but... liberal (classical) - i don't even know
what sort of thinking goes into the label -
in the east? the liberals are exhausted
by a resurgent nationalism within
   the newly acquired capitalist system...
in the west? the liberals are exhausted
by an insurgent communism within
an ageing capitalist system...

         on a side: seriously, why even bother
engaging in any sort of "public intellectual"
debates when the public are only
discussing two books: 1984 and brave new world...
**** it, might as well talk to a camel jockey
who only own and rides the waves of
time in this world only using one...
muhammad...
   whom Khadija **** Khuwaylid
would probably whip into his young
respectable shape...

                  and this is how Ezra Pound comes
into rememberance:
usura... at least the muslims do not
play into the game of usury:
of interest... borrow a quid,
pay back £2.33...
            that's the only way you can
gain respect of the muslims:
if they truly were the money lenders
of this world: which they aren't...
unless a newly blessed...

   among the philistines and the proselytes...
england is such a tiresome project,
even on the outskirts of London...
i'm being dragged down by this intervention
of marxism: on a whim,
on a whimsical projection...
of "adding" values...
            
           communism would have worked...
in exceptional circumstances...
poland... circa 1945 - 1990...
syria: the current year...
  to whatever year is demanded...
exceptional as in: war torn...
where was the marshall plan
   for poland, when there was one
for sweden (neutral) and switzerland
(also neutral)?!
        black youths bothered about
the summer holidays,
having to live in council flats,
  concrete goliaths...
           want to know what it feels like
when entire cities are like council
estates,
with only pockets of remaining
   free-standing houses among
overshadowing council flats?
                                    nee bother...
sure... in a country where:
the house is the castle and there's a labyrinth
of castles constituting outer suburbia...
balconies... that's what the soviet
models had... balconies...
where women could grow flowers...
concrete staccato gardens in the sky...
the blocks of flats in england
didn't have balconies (sky gardens,
          esp. the early ones, massive fault)...
i spent one summer reading
bertnard russell's history of western philosophy...
lying in my grandparent's balcony,
in the shade...
watching passerbys among
          the barking dogs of the neighbours...

one day, one ******* day!
   and i'm already exhausted from the castrato
english narrative...
pandering to the people you expected
to integrate...
  no! you're not changing your standards...
your standards are perfectly reasonable!
i'm tired of the english pandering
to the sort of people who, will, not,
integrate!
               i integrated in a way
of respecting both the english culture,
as well as hiding / preserving my own...
why don't i just do the following:
   pisać po polsku?
                      like some czesław miłosz?

ah... good point... at what point
is the standard of integration appreciated?
when nothing is preserved?
surely integration is supposed to
accommodate some variation
of preservation?
     i might add: that's a fine line...
preserve all? no integration...
preserve some? integration...
                    preserve none? no integration...
food is a cheap target to example
with...
                   it's a low hanging fruit...
given that even i find indian cuisine
   the most superior in the world...
food is a cheap target concerning integration...
but the niqab?
  when the local english authorities
are employing face-recognition
technology and when testing it...
are forcing people to uncover their faces,
subsequently arresting them out of protest...
but not the women wearing the niqab...
out of? out of what?
   a secular society shouldn't be allowed
to discriminate against any religion...
it should discriminate against: all religions!

                isn't that what the secular ideology
is all about? the... softcore version
of soviet atheism?
        secularism of the west (miltary-industrial
complex)...
"vs." soviet atheism of the east
  (scientific-industrial complex)...
           i'm still so ******* tired
               of this bogus trap of "necessary"
                       commentary.

I was laying awake in bed when
a lame pick-up line came to mind

   "Are you tired girl? 'Cuz
   you've been running through my head all day!"

I was bored so I broke it down

I was thinking of you when I woke up
wondering when's the next time I'd wake to your skin
I was thinking of you when I got dressed
and how you'd always ask if your clothes made you look thin
I was thinking of you when I poured coffee into my cup
and how you'd curl your nose at my coffee-breathed kiss
I was thinking of you while I flossed
dreaming of your smile which sends my heart into doing flips

I was thinking of you as I drove to work
and your love texts I'd get throughout the day
I was thinking of you during my break
how you'd wiped the ketchup off my face that first date
I was thinking of you as I waited for the bank clerk
you were excited as they rep handed you our new house key
I was thinking of you while I was picking up a steak
and how beautiful you looked when it rained on our picnic by the sea

I was thinking about you as I drove around town for an hour
and how I missed your loving eyes when I'd pull in the drive
I was thinking about you while I cooked my dinner
oh, how I missed the way you baked my favorite pumpkin pies
I was thinking about you as I was taking a shower
and the steamy nights that started where I stood now
I was thinking about you as I had laid my head to sleep
and I was thinking about how tired you had to be now
   somehow

I think I'll let you run a bit longer in my dreams.

Y can feel the cold wind
the moon is high , the lion inside
crawls , the helmet stop the metamorfosis
mi tooths are sharp my roar is crawling to
my throat .

in the night , think in licans , mi hearts is with them
mis claws are poping out , the lion is out ,
and y feel pity for the little creep .

mi head is booming and i can't stop , the roar
is stock in my throat , it comes out , is not a howl ,
is not a cry , is the lion in my guts asking for a way out ,
his claws , are my claws his teeths are mine ,

y think in the beauty , and her beasty **** eyes ,
a roar comes out , the bikes speed up , thinking in
gonzo  ,  running his bike ,  touring his lican ,
avoiding the **** , a claim for mercy for the
mortal , while the beast crawls for the skin .

suddenly the beast is out , everything around you sounds
different, night is yours , the claws are out ,
feeling pity and a rush , loews night , the effect is cool .
you keep speeding up , you feel the rage , making your roar ,
put fith , 120 km. are enough , hopefully .


you speed up , the bike don't go faster , the rage is booming
the eco in your head , claims for the blood of fresh **** .
the full moon talks your language the city is your hunting ground ,
thinking in lestat ,  hearing bach under a howling moon  , the claws get to your gloves popping out, full moon again son , carefull says lestat voice .



but the full moon talks your language  ,  she talks to your lion ,
she says in his ears , feed lion feed , take your paws , use the fangs
the city is your hunting ground , the lion is out your eyes are red
the beast took your heart , think in dogs , licans are lucky they have their clans , youre alone  ,  the city is ******* yours to take , the lion's walks alone .


think in nat geo , hoping they show some fresh **** ,
hoping for a lions feast , eating , with ****** faces , and a full
mouth , thinking in
mi lyonnesse . feeling ***** , the beast is out ,
cant stop , looking people like prays , in your hunting
ground ... every one is a pray  , looking for a child molester ,
for an assassin , there's no crime in killing creeps , the lion
makes excuses , for the **** , moon is up , you wait for a while
then speed up , and again thinking in the little creep . you scream impotent , it was your right , little beasty knows , he was lucky  , now they know how lucky they ***** , claws come back in . your  lucky to be live .

the moon is gone the lion is in , waiting to crawl back out , thinking in the running , in the heart of a creep , the feast of eating his creepy little heart , gas is enough , y will make it to the  cave , thinking in beautiful
lionesses , naked lionesses , their skin their softness , thinking in the
beauty that loves you but is too scared to face the music in her chicken **** heart , good tastes  too many wrongs , she  cant handle it .



the lion crawl back in ,  the helmet deed his job and protect mi head ,
the blood taste in my mouth , feels good , the fang is always out , like
a remainder ,  a message to your face , be cool , the bike brakes in the red light , you look the little creep , crawling to you , you see his dog out , he smells you , the roar scares him , his creepy yellow eyes , but he knows better .


the hummingbird of the morning sings , talking to the sun , mi eyes are hurting me . the night was good no one died , only the lion ,  rest in peace , very deep inside my chest .
the blood moon wakes you up , think in the coliseum ,the  loews feasts
the killings , the blood , the roman ladies , in the streets no one , looks at you , beneath the monet sykes , everyone , walks with the certainty , for their  own certainties , the blood moon wakes every cell in my body the lion claims for a way out , y only see prays , in a ****** red moon .
    


the house is quiet , my teeths are in , y bite my lips ,
take the shorts  up for a run  , throwing all the rage , in the ****** moon the creeps knows better ,  but still , thinking in the cowardness of being inside , having a creep , inside a ****** closet with 80 years old , pitty is an excuse , he knows better deep in his creepy little heart knowing he was ,  only a lucky little rat .


the feast in natgeo , is cool thinking in the creepy enemy , getting eaten alive by hyenas , eaten to the bone , screaming for mercy , thats  happy
or wishful thinking , oh the beast is there ,  yet , deep down you know that is there , waiting  , looking the prays , but that is the secret , that everyone have  it , only few knows it , and control it , as y do
screaming and roaring beneath the ****** moon .



now i'm calm waiting for a day sleep , having the certainty that my beast is controlled , and the blood feast , are just my wishful thinking .
in the nigth ride , think in blake , tiger tiger in the night .
why your eyes shine so bright , that's my line , your eyes shine , the night is your day , the creep is everywhere , here i am  scream some creep defender , thanks the lord , for your life , and dont scream at me defending that crap . the lion talks to people , don't defend **** ,
luckily i'm used to hold on and hold back , in the ****** night , someone says here we are ,  y say , so what , nothing works for you ,
, whats the point , of being there , illogical and creepy , think again your lucky to be alive . y hear knives out by radiohead and  y think in destroy that creepy evil little rat , that almost destroy mi life , and y say to the rat your ******* lucky to be alive .

       c'est tout, je adore.

Endless thinking..thinking.. thinking.. thinking..  thinking
******, this is how thinking can far, far, too often feel
as if one's poor head is spinning around and around
or as if one's a poor dizzy gerbil imprisoned in a wheel
it's as if one's poor old mind is far too full of thoughts
with far more crowding in on it than they really ought
And, why, oh why, to further blight one's piteous plight
does thinking far too often plague one very late at night
for when one's about to drop off into much-needed sleep
come silly sneaky little thoughts suggestive and too deep
That's why  if  I am  struggling to settle down late at night
I save myself from going crazy and lots of poems write!

It is 7.30 and I am still thinking about the way our hands slotted together like days of the week, normalcy perspiring in the air behind us.
It is 7.31 and I am still thinking about your cheekbones, collarbones, hipbones. I am still thinking about your bones. You haven't returned my phone calls in a week.
It is 7.32 and I am still thinking about forest fires.
It is 7.33 and I am still thinking about clocks ticking and how it's kind of funny how we are always counting the days we have left, instead of the days we have.
It is 7.34 and I am still thinking about how my apologies never really cut it.
It is 7.35 and I am sorry.
It is 7.36 and I wonder how hard it is to tie a noose.
It is 7.37 and I am still thinking about the normal length of a pause when you're telling someone you love them, too.
It is 7.38 and I love you, too.
It is 7.39 and I am still trying not to think about how loud the doorbell echoes in the entrance hall now.
It is 7.40 and I am still thinking about the absence of stairways.
It is 7.41 and I am still thinking about hunger pains and alleyways and the warmth of your hand on my spine.
It is 7.42 and there are some things you can't say to other people but holy ****, I miss you.
It is 7.43 and I'm sorry again.
It is 7.44 and I am still thinking about short hands on clocks.
It is 7.45 and I am still imagining footfalls landing heavy on the carpet outside my bedroom and trying not to hope they're yours.
It is 7.46 and I hope they're yours.
It is 7.47 and I am still thinking about the glass in my ribcage digging in harder than your fingernails ever could.
It is 7.48 and I am still thinking about the way our hands slotted together.
It is 7.49 and I'm sorry again.

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
because all stars are destined to explode
and the more light you give off
the faster you burn out
i guess this is why they say only the good die young,
i guess i’ll live forever
but immortality sounds lonely and most living legends tie their own nooses,
and the rest of us live just by making excuses
i'd count out all the stars in between us like miles
but you're half way round the world and i'm more than a few days behind
i'd count out all the stars between us, make promises and wishes on them
but i know they’d both be empty
but stars are always dead on arrival
but you’re too far away even if you're right next to me
we were looking at the same stars, just not the same constellations
and i'm so ******* sorry for all the things i let burn out,
all the things i let go ruined instead of dealing with them
i’m afraid of failure so sometimes i don’t try at all
i’m sorry you got the worst parts of me
i’m sorry you got my collisions instead of constellations

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
because you were afraid of commitment mostly because
you thought you were supposed to be and i said
i love you like a bomb going off too soon
my whole body is on fire,
you ignite me like lighter-fluid and bad decisions
and the best things burn out fast
the shortest lights burn the brightest
it’s science, it’s physics, we can’t fight this
we were doomed from the start, it’s inevitable
that we have to take things apart
somebody told me love is having the perfect opportunity
to hurt somebody and letting it go,
so i guess that’s how i know we’re not in love
because we hurt each other just to prove that the other one
still cared enough for it to sting
because i learned that you’re not real unless you make marks,
so i hope it ******* scars
i hope you can always see the bruises in the shape of my lips
i hope you never forget

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’ve been thinking about whether comets or craters are more important
whether it’s about the way you blaze out or just your ashes
whether it’s about what you do or what you leave behind
i’ve been thinking about why we treat
black holes and supernovas as opposites
when they’re really not that different at all
both catastrophes in their own right, yet one of them seems more poetic
but you don’t get to decide the amount of pain you’ve inflicted,
we are all afflicted with this thinking that we’re the only exception
i think we are all guilty of thinking
we’re supernovas instead of blackholes

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’m a mess and not just metaphorically,
sometimes i kind of think i’d be a lot happier without
all the things that make me myself
i am in a glass jar watching myself implode because
i kind of wish i was born with more serotonin and a different kind of motivation,
like i’m an observer to myself
and i’ve always viewed my own heart breaks
almost as the out-of-body experience, like a third party
investigating the remains of what was or what wasn’t
i am the medical examiner of my heart
and poetry is a lot like dissection
and love is a lot like hate
and living is a lot like dying
but regret is just a waste of emotion and love is just a waste of devotion
and going out with a bang
is much more glamorous than going out with a whimper
and nobody talks about slow burn, only the explosion
if you were a star then you were a shooting one,
and you’re always most popular the day after you die
but i’m done with that ****,
this is not a dead poet’s society
this is a society of poets who wanted to die but didn’t
because i think this might be a sad poem,
but i am not a sad person or at least i've been trying not to be
because we were all born to die, but we were also all born to live
measured by the blaze of our burnout, the trail behind us
i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’ve been thinking a lot about comets

this is about how positive thinking is a stupid waste of time
well, not all positive thinking is *******
like, if you have a goal and you are trying to meet it
then of course it behooves you to be positive about it
it behooves you to say
yeah, i am going to get to that point
or i am going to get as close as i possibly can
and that is like
positive thinking that is proactive -
the kind of positive thinking i am criticizing
are the kind of people who think that all the worlds problems can be solved simply
by the act of being happy
or being upbeat and positive
cause it seems like in a lot of ways
i belong to a generation of people
that are so focused on the silver lining
that they miss the ******* giant *** storm cloud heading their way
you know, it's good to see the bright side
but if you only focus on the bright side
how can you ever address the real problems that face you
not every situation should be turned into something positive
there are certain things in life that just are negative
and they need to be confronted not with the power of positive thinking
but with the power of intelligent thinking
and the power of taking action based upon intelligent thinking
but most people in this country are just inert idiots
they won't act unless they are acted upon
they won't think unless you spoon feed their thoughts into them
that's why you have all these idiots listening to ******* Rush Limbaugh
they'll just sit there and nod their empty ******* head like
"yeah,Rush knows what's up"
Rush doe's not know what's up
Rush is a ******* idiot
look, our generation has some serious, serious ******* problems to face
climate change and the ensuing ecological disasters
couple that with over population
there's going to be scarcity of resources
if you live in america you are also going to have to deal with things like
growing income inequality cause you know they aren't going to pass some new minimum wage thing
in the near future
because we also have in this country an infestation
of social conservatives who become increasingly more aggressive and obstructionist
as they realize they are losing their grip on the country
that's just a FEW of the problems that our generation is going to have to be the ones to face
and right now all i'm seeing from people is
"we need to stop fat shaming people" "people need to be comfortable with their own body image"
and "we need to get more rights for gays"
look,
that's fine
that's wonderful
that's a good start
but those problems are insignificant compared to what awaits you
and i don't ******* think you people are ready
i think your sitting there with your thumbs up your *** thinking
"well the world is just going to work out as it does and i'm just going to sit here and just kinda go blumby blumbly bluuummmbb and imma think happy thoughts! maybe if i think happy enough thoughts, i'll turn into peter pan and fly away to ******* neverland and i won't have to deal with any of this ****"
well sorry, THAT'S NOT A ******* OPTION!
your stuck here on this planet like the rest of us
you might want to take some interest
you might want to stop just looking on the bright side and start looking at the ******* dark side
because the dark side is bigger
and it's going to get bigger and bigger and bigger
unless you think
unless you do something about it
and when i say you i don't just mean you
i mean me too

*T.J.