With heavy hearts the lightened feet march up on Whitehall
take a peek,
then down below the trenches go
light up a woodbine,
'dontya know this is the show that we'll be late for', Says Scouse.
'Gor blimey mate' says cockney Joe, 'let's have a look at all them toffs'
and ups the periscope as scouse scoffs bully beef.

Thiefs of body, thiefs of friends,thiefs of time and there is a belief in some older men,
that this is a time when we remember 'them'
No words need be conveyed
no tears for what they gave
just a sober, sombre silence
like when the guns fell silent
one hundred years ago.

They're digging up the cobbles in our street,
moving them to a classier area.
We'll be given tarmac, black and soft in the sun.

Yes, even here it shines - on men's vests.
They're red faced, drinking from lager cans,
while their women finger scarved curlers.
At least, that's what others think they see.

But neighbours do talk with us.
There's a code of decency,
though Mum says, 'some have hearts
as black as the tarmac'.

There's a hierarchy,
in minds and heads,
if not in pockets.

Some day the toffs will turf us out,
gentrify our street. We'll be moved,
filed vertically, pigeon lofts in the sky.
Then they'll bring our cobbles back.

You want this conversation
Well let's take the ******* out
You call for independence
So let's see what that's about
You're gonna need the banks for money
Gonna need the toffs for land
Well that's a kind of independence
That I just don't understand

So who are you kidding now, who are you kidding,
Nothing's going to change
With the same old queen and the same old scene
and the same old parlour games
This ain't no custody battle, you're not taking the kids to the zoo
If we don't want central government then why would we want you?

Now I find you quite convincing
when you say that things are wrong
But it seems that your solution
Is the same old same old song
And a suit in Edinburgh
Could be a suit in London town
Because you're all a million miles away
from the **** that's going down

Ah, who are you kidding now who are you kidding,
Where's the brand new dawn
It's the millionaires and the stocks and the shares
That'll keep on keepin' on
And this self-determination
Might catch you by surprise
The united states of me and my mates
Curse every flag that flies.

For a couple of toffs , I was lagging their loft ,
The size of a Polo Pitch ,
With thick fibreglass , of a " superior class ",
There wasnt a part of me that didnt itch .
Now I had a , full bladder ,
So climbed down the ladder ,
Left the hatch open , like the " barn , I was born in "
Desperate for a *** , though it wasnt through tea ,
I hadnt been offered a cup all morning .
And right there , I saw , a note taped to the door ,
Saying "TRADESMAN - USE THE TOILET DOWNSTAIRS ".
In the natural light, blinking , it got me thinking ,
Is MY ***** , so different to theirs ?
Ignoring the sign, I  crossed over the line
And entered "The Master Bathroom "
It was expensively tiled , a shame to defile,
Full of lotions , potions and perfume.
So I ****** in the sink , gave the mirror a wink
And was up to the loft like a thief .
Back home that night as I turned out the light,
I imagined them brushing their teeth .

Poverty,
food in the reclamation yard.

Life's tough,
it's hard to be  full of energy when
the meter is empty and all you see
are the toffs who scoff at society.

Poverty,
cardboard caskets in the cemetery.

There's a niche between the have and the have nots,
the place they throw away food and it rots,
bread, bread but not for the dead and the mould
we can give to the weary and old,
it's share and share and **** them, they don't count
and we don't care.

Circumstance gives a fat chance and the fat cats get the fat other than that all is well for the poor and the needy who dwell in the dark because the meter is empty.

Poverty,
in the park, on the bench, what a stench,
why don't they bathe, why don't they shave, why don't they save the pittance they get or better yet why give them a pittance, give them ****** all?

Poverty,
call for ticket number forty three, your benefits have changed please come to booth B.

We are being outsourced to be the dampcourse in some old Etonian duck pond, all expenses paid by another raid on the 'workshy' who in any case will get by
because we're all in this together dontya know.

Poverty
is just a name they use to defuse the ticking bomb,  
castigate the poor, exonerate the rich,
build another workhouse and life's not such a *****.

We know differently, we who live poverty, we who see inequality but we still and will
**** for a dime.

The upper crust.

The top of the pie
or just
flaky?

My English teacher asked us
to bring a poem in
one that really speaks to us
that resonates within
I did a lot of research
read poems through the night
Wordsworth, Keats, nor Shakespeare
could help me with my plight
I needed just one poem,
an expression to confess
my deeply burning hatred
of this teacher, unimpressed.
So I rifled through the classics,
through the bigwigs and the toffs
but all I found were thee's and thou's and an awful lot of doths
then I was sent a masterpiece
that describes these thoughts of mine
when this teacher says my poetry
is just a waste of time,
so I'll read it out in class today,
then with the Head I'll end up sat
but I'll always be so grateful
that John Cooper Clarke wrote ****.

In deafening silence the clangers spilled their blue string soup!
While inTrumpton the boys in the fire station rang their fire bells.
The miller was windy in Camberwick Green.
And Bill and Ben.
Well they lived in a grass fuelled happy hippy scene.
With a sweet lady called ****!

Hector lived in his house of fun.
Where he enjoyed his little *****. Zsa Zsa her name,
Gabor perhaps.
Bonjour, one funny frog, amphibian named Kiki.
Hector well he was a dog!

In the garden of the herbs.
Lived a jolly friendly chap.
A lion called Parsley.
What a crazy name was that.
The owl,well he was a sage.
A seer of things to come.
Bourgeoisie in the garden.
Sir Basil and Lady Rosemary.
A pair of toffs with taste!

And they wonder why today.
We poets have a vivid imagination.
Wasn't due to taking drugs.
Was the influence of T.V. on our fair English nation!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

He was leaning against the wall, backed up
And staring through fumes of gin and whiskey,
Glaring at all the toffs, dressed up
And ravelling through his sordid history.

But never a sense of ‘us’ with him
He was more like a raging arcane animal,
Caught and caged, as they looked right in
To poke and pry at his painted trammel.

Oils and charcoals, water colours,
Pinned like an insect by their gazing,
Pointing fingers would **** his skin
Pick through his pockets, grinning, gaping.

What would they know of his woods and fields,
The towering oak, or the dew at dawning?
Only the light that a lamp post yields
In the mean streets when the world is yawning.

Theirs was a world of tile and brick
Of diesel fumes and the rail line snaking,
His were the hills of hay and rick
The tumbledown cot and the farmer, raking.

‘What did you bring me here to spill?’
He said to the shyster gallery owner,
‘There’s nothing you couldn’t print at will
With a Laser print, and a barrel of toner.’

‘They’re coming in hordes to see your myth,
You’re a breath of air in a jaded Autumn,
A genuine Primitive, Jordan Griff,
I lured them in, and your work has caught them.’

But Jordan scowled and he curled his lip
As the crowd milled using an unknown language,
‘I’d rather be down at the ‘Rope and Skip’
With a pint of ale and a cold meat sandwich!’

‘You’re really an artist?’ said the woman
Who stood at his shoulder, pale and shaking,
‘I like the one at the farmer’s gate
With the girl, head bowed, as her heart is breaking.’

Griff looked deep in the woman’s eyes
For the chord she’d struck was his secret mourning,
‘How did you know?’ He’d sobered up,
‘I was the girl your paint was born in!’

Jordan halted his glass, mid-sip,
He seized her hand as his heart was pacing,
‘Years have slipped between cup and lip,
I’d give them all for a second tasting!’

He led her into a lumber room
And she locked the door as they pulled apart,
Then found some cushions and in the gloom
They lay on the floor there, making art.

That’s how his Primitives came to start
With a joy not there at his god-rot dawning,
A horse and cart with his palette heart,
And a tousled woman each tumbledown morning!

David Lewis Paget

nie będe sięgał, klękał, zginał, czy wiginał sie przed tym krzyżem!
   (i will not reach, kneel, bend (myself), or contort (myself) before this crux!)
given it's a geometric abomination, as it already is, with prior pythagorean
stress on the triangle; at least that shape is a zoo of interpretation... the crux? that's open to interpretation... either a + or a x.

oh, and by the way, this zeitgeist debate regarding pronouns? slavic language use the pronouns sparingly anyway... you can almost say they're non-exixstent in a conversation... for example... the i is hardly used; which really makes the western language discussion about "proper" pronoun use... very, very, ******* funny; and i do mean that pronoun usage in these languages is a given, i.e. it's automated, and imbedded for no kind of disphoria to become prevalent, or hit the radar for discussion.

as i always stress...
i'm a composer, not an entertainer,
i don't have two or three poems
in my repertoire...
    this **** isn't coming at you like
some *gangnam style one hit wonder,
or gibsberg's howl...
                    i'm just a pulverising
train-wreck of a man, drinking to excess...
and... well... feeling gleeful, to say
the least, smirking most of the time,
and sniggering at the odd occassion;
oh, did i mention, that i simply love
wearing sunglasses?
and yes, living in england,
it's hard to get into the patriotism
           the americans
are almost automated into (alt. indocrinated),
i wish i could be patriotic about being
english...
                 but **** me, there are too many toffs
and cup-cakes to get through to be patriotic
about this place...
     i sprechen the english sprechen,
but i decided to still keep my native tongue
and use it in my private space, that i'm supposed
to call a castle...
              oh but i'll speak the english when
i'm outside of the house, and no one could
tell me i'm foreign... but they sometimes,
annoyingly ask: so, where you from?
after that question, the dialogue suddenly disintegrates....
******* inbreds.
  but you know what i learned about immigration
in europe? you can borrow from american patriotism...
you get so ******* nationalistic **** style in "exile"
with regard to your birth country... it's, simply, unreal;
last time i checked... no news
                   of a muslim attack in poland;
but **** me, i'd love to have that spirit of patriotism
that americans have, inherently;
  ah, but you know, europe is a poly-lingual continent,
which makes it a witch's cauldron, anticipating
death and despair;
and no, given that england uses the same language
as america... you can't, for **** you me, become that easily
patriotic about england...
         welll, objectively i have complete fluency of the english
tongue... but subjectively? fish & chips, 1966 world cup?
the beatles, pink floyd, led zeppelin,
                                             black sabbath, rolling stones?
toad in a hole?
          mate, i'm up in scotland, with a mouthful of
haggis neeps and tatties.

They heard the whistle,
necked their ration of ***,
put away photographs, letters and bibles
and wished good luck,
then over the top the lads went
They heard the deafening rat a tat tat of the machine guns,
the shells exploding
and saw their friends knees bend and fall
Onwards they ploughed
towards that deathly sound
Heart hammering,
Keep going son,  move
Many also died , bloodied in the wire,
They had gained a hundred yards
and thought that posters
in the towns never showed this
with Come lads slip across and help
and Hold up your end
and Kitchener's famous point
What had they said?
Be over by Christmas
No ****** way
The toffs comfortable in their billets
had sent them all to die, forgotten, cannon fodder
that's all and
God has his slippers on an all

r a n, or: reformed alcoholics named, such pretty,
saintly creatures, you can almost yawn at the whole affair;
i've never heard such gracious life-affirming stories as these -
watch them scuttling like rats from a sinking
ship, you can count them, hell, you can even name them:
oh there's jerry who ****** himself in bed,
there's bradley in black-out mode
at liverpool st. station,
james the one who puked blood in the toilet...
and there's me, using alcohol for what
the arabs feared it could do to a man:
dehydrate him and leave him with a snail-tongue,
all slurry and slow - not a very known
sedative back then, it was first used to sterilise
medical equipment used in removing an
appendix, or the third tonsil (e.g.) -
rarely was it used as a sedative, people abused it
during Bacchus ****** - they'd dance and sing;
Spartan meat-heads used to drink diluted wine
(all that six-pack growling and Hoplite Phallus...
Phalax... whatever RAA!) and would give pure
wine to shame someone and walk him down
the street, tumbling... the Japanese... hmm, what
an odd case indeed... i'd need a barrel of sāké /
säké to get drunk... and they drink it... warm,
disgusting... mulled wine i can understand...
but drinking ****-***** ***** warm is sick...
            now concerning the diacritical marks,
so the umlaut a (dot dot)... am i right in assuming
that in english it would be equivalent to write
it as: a a            and whatever letters either side?
oh oh! like aardvark? i'm good at arithmetic, . .    . .
    . .        . .            . .         . .                             σ 12, yes?
then surely the macron on the other variant is also
a prolongation, or perhaps an elongation of the vowel,
but of course with the     e           you're sort of supposed
to jump, make the tongue jump or fire a slingshot
or throw a Molotov cocktail or something, ṝight?
(yep, that's not a trill but a "growl", the english
                                        hollowed-out r -
     meaning it is prolonged, but it's not trilled -
                                        the posh Chelsea girls would know,
puffs and toffs and macaroons, whatnot, oh ya,
yeah, those kind of girls, they'd tell you all about
                   the hollowed-out and prolonged english ṝ
there's no greater amount of ambiguity like there is in
that and why w is said to be a double-u but is written
like a double-v, and translated into polish
a                 w is actually             a         ł;
                            i think this is where we ref. everything
to the dispersion of the peoples and the tower of Babylon).

Part two,

and you know who and what'll be there
the ****** devil. but
what do you care?
give him his due he ain't here because of you,though you'll do at a pinch,he's here for that shower what believes they're in power,he'll be calling down Whitehall for Ed ***** and Co,
and Labour may labour under the misapprehension that they are all in for a ****** fat pension,
but the Devil don't care what colours they wear he reads only his list, and he gets a ******* at toffs and the like and that pleb on a bike has no chance at all.
Whitehall's a write off
and we're all a **** sight better off
without them.

I want to write my fans
Some more lines about kissy face
And beautiful flowers and lakes
And rainbows all over the place.
But, it is difficult to do today
Because a country of loons
Has elected to take office
A few hundred crazy buffoons.

They are turning our country
Into a place of us and them.
And thermonuclear holocaust
Will be a crazy person’s whim.
A megalomaniac playing soldier
With absolutely no regard
For the outcome of his madness
Makes pretty poetry very hard.

It’s extremely hard to come by
And harder yet to conceive
Because true poetry and art
Only come when we believe
And nothing about our fates now
Are anything other than incredible.
What the GOP has cooked up
Is nowhere close to edible.

To me writing fluffy words in rhyme
Is much like Nero and his fiddling.
I can’t just tap dance for the toffs.
I mean, who would I be kidding?
So, don’t expect hearts and flowers
Or many lovely June, moon tunes.
A completely stupid country has left
Us in the hands of bull goose loons.

Jour de Poisson
en France.
In the UK they
say, fools day!

He-Haws, is
how they are
often described
by the media.

Bankers, Accountants,
MP's Mep’s, PM’s Royals
Lords, Ladies, Gentlemen
Peers, Toffs, Tossers.


Cabog's, gobshites,
ignoramuses, mug's,
clowns, jerks, clots,
muggins, cuckoos.

But imagine, The British
only dedicate one solitary
day in every year to all
of these ****** eejits.

When do we knock off?
Home offices, not for toffs,
I stagger to the desktop,
Yikes, another job!
Guess it won't take me long,
******* my phone, my new song,
We can afford gas for cars vehicular,
But not allowed anywhere particular,
So, we work in the home office,
Jobs designed for masochists!

Are You AFRAID of What You See When You look At Me ... ?
Well Can't You See That This Is How Most Racists Be ... ?
  
If You're ... AFRAID Because I'm Tall And Black ...
Why Be Like That I'm Just A Man ... ?!?
  
"THINK First Old Chap !" ....
  
Because What Comes Next Are RACIST Acts ...
Like DEADLY Use of Tools Like An AXE ... !!!
  
Acts Like These Are Most EXTREME ... !!!
But Fear Plays A Part In RACIST Hearts ...
Who Make CRUEL Moves Both CRUDE And SHREWD ... !!!
  
Some Simply Give Jobs To RACIST Yobs ... !!!
Or GREEDY Toffs Who Sit And Plot How They Can Rob ...
If You DON'T Believe Me Just Look At ... " ENRON " ... !!!
  
Don't Know The FULL COUP But To Tell You The TRUTH ...
These Corporate Crimes Happen All The Time ... !!!
While Blacks Like Me Keep Writing Rhymes ...
  
But You're ... AFRAID of ME ... ?!!!?
  
Come On Now PLEASE ...
Of Course Some Blacks Commit EVIL Deeds ...
But Who REALLY CONTROLS ... Economies ... ?!!!?
And Move With Crews of Forty Thieves ... ???
  
And Feed FALLACIES Through Your TV's ... ?
Why ON EARTH Are You ... SCARED of ME ... !?!
  
"But Virge, don't you see, you look scary !"
  
That's A POOR Excuse ...
Can't You Think of Something New ... !?!
  
There Are BIG White Men Who Are SCARY TOO ... !!!
  
I DON'T Make The Policies ...
That Leave People Begging On Their KNEES ... !!!
  
And DON'T Employ KNOWN PAEDOPHILES ...
To Educate And ABUSE Your Child ... !!!
  
I DON'T Believe In POINTLESS WARS ...
But You're SCARED of ME And Choose To .................... Ignore ...
My Presence When I Walk Through Doors ..... !!!!!!!
  
Your IGNORANCE ...
Is Beginning To BORE ... !!!
  
But ... LISTEN UP BLACK Woman And Man ...
I Mean YOU TOO ...
Those Who Act Like I'm A THREAT To YOU ... ?!?
  
Oh YES It's TRUE EVERYDAY I Get PROOF ... !!!
  
When I Walk The Streets ...
It's BEYOND BELIEF The Way Some Blacks ...  
Choose To ... LOOK AT ME ... !!!!!!
  
What You Looking At Black I'M NOT Gonna Attack ... ?
Does The Way I Look REALLY Make You Think That ... ?!?
  
Try Looking In The MIRROR ...
Let Your Judgements ... SIMMER ...........................................
  
And REMEMBER Who It Is ...
You RESPECTED As Kids ...
Bet It WASN'T ... " ELVIS " ... !!!!!!
  
How About ... MARLEY ... ???
  
A Man Whose Appearance Was A Little Like Me ... !!!
I Bet ELDERS In ... Your Family ...
Have Got His Music ... On CD ... !!!
Or BETTER STILL On A Vinyl LP ... !!!!
  
And What About ... NOW ...
Do Your Kids Play Sounds By ... Mister Fifty ... ?
  
FORGET How He Looks ...
What he Says Is ... SCARY ... !!!!!
  
Well ... NOT To Me ... !!!!!
  
But The Media Says That Songs He Makes ...
Breed VIOLENT Brains And Street Gunplay ... !!!
  
If You Had To Face THAT ...
What Would You Say Would You Be AFRAID ... ???
  
I Think You Will If You Face Being KILLED ...
So When You See Me ... I Suggest You CHILL ... !!!!!!
Because I Believe In ... LOVE And PEACE ...  
And Also YES ... Black UNITY ... !!!
  
When Will Blacks Learn To AGREE ... ?!?
  
The Way I Look Shouldn't Leave You SHOOK ...
Why Would You ASSUME That I'm A CROOK ... !?!?!
  
You've Got MORE IMPORTANT Things To FEAR ...  
Than Thinking I'm Your ENEMY ... When I Appear ... !!!!!
  
New Orleans ... Should of Made It CLEAR ... !!!!!
The Time's Drawing NEAR When Our Atmosphere ...
Will Have Reached THE POINT of NO RETURN ...  
I Guess You'll Say ... " Oh Dear Oh Dear ! " ...
  
But Will KEEP The Attitude ...
That I'm A DANGER To YOU ...
Well THAT's NOT COOL ... !!!
  
You're AFRAID of ME ...  
Well I'm AFRAID of ... YOU ... !!!  
of What You BELIEVE And What You'll Do ...
  
Some of You Are A Bit CONFUSED ... !!!
It's Sad But TRUE Many Blacks Have A TAINTED View ... !!!!!
And STILL Haven't Learned From History's Clues ... !!!
  
MONEY Is The ... BIG ISSUE ... !!!
Instead of FEARING How I LOOK ... ?!?
  
You Should Try FEARING ... Governments Books ... !!!
The Things You'll Find May Leave You SHOOK ...  
But You'll Find Recipes On How To COOK ... !!!!!!!!!!  
  
How To ... " Cook Up A Plan " ...
To ... CONTROL Humans ... !!!
  
"Lets give them cash, and work contracts,
then just like that, we'll take it back !
Make them buy homes, then offer them loans,
then when they're old, with fragile bones,
make them pay a toll, for property that they, never owned !"
  
That's The MASSES Folks And That's NO JOKE ... !!!
But You WON'T Be BROKE If You're In The RIGHT Fold ...
Because They're The Ones Who KEEP A TIGHT HOLD ...
On ALL Their Homes And ... Pots of Gold ... !!!!!!
  
But ....  
  
FEAR ME If You Like ... And My Style of Rhyme ...
If You Find You SUFFER And Have NO HOME ...
I'm NOT The Type To Say ... " I TOLD YOU SO ! " ...
  
Actually I AM ...
Because CLEARLY YES ... I Am THE MAN ... !!!
  
I Guess You're Thinking ...  
I'm An ... ARROGANT Black ... !!!!!!
  
Well .....
TEN YEARS Down The Line ...
When You CAN'T AFFORD A FLAT ... ?!!!?
Maybe Then You'll Agree With My Poetry ... ???
  
It Seems We'll Have To Wait And See ......................................
  
If MY Wordplay At The End of The Day ...
Is WRONG or ... RIGHT ... ???
  
Or Is The Type That Deserves BIG HYPE ...  
And Should Be Heard Through WORLDWIDE MIcs' ... !!!
  
Meantime I Face Delays And Games ...
From Those Who KEEP My Use of Prose ...
KEPT ON HOLD ... And STEERED WELL CLEAR From Public Ears ...
Because of Their FEARS And ... FALSE Veneers ... !!!!!
  
So The LAST Question I'll Write On This Page ...
Or When Performed ... Will Be Said On Stage ...  
  
Are These THREE Words ....
  
............... " Are You Afraid " ................. ???

So In ALL HONESTY...
Have Human Beings...
Ever REALLY Been FREE... ???

FREE To Do What We Please...
In Our... Societies... ???

Now Of Course...
At The START of Our History...

One Would Like To Believe...
That We Were Truly Free... !!!

To Learn And Explore...
And Grow To Be MORE...
Than Our Physical Being... !!!

To Learn About Trees...
And The Oceans' Seas...

But That’s Not What I Mean... !!!

I’m Meaning Since We...
Have Built Societies...
And Have Learned To Speak...
On Our Beliefs...

Because Now It Seems...
To Be A Mystery... ?!?

To Know What Being Free...
Really... TRULY Means... ?!?

Freedom of Speech...
Is Now Under Siege...
Because of Dodgy Policies...
And These Cancel Police... !?!

Do You Really Believe...
That We’re Free To Speak...
Like These People Who Lead... ?

Are They EVER REALLY FREE...
To Say What They Want... ?!?

Or Is Their Speech...
Subject To Nods...
From POWERFUL Bods... !?!

Or The Type of Toffs...
Who Call The Shots... !!!

You Know Who I Mean...
These WEALTHY Families...
Who Many Now Deem...
To Be... OUT of REACH... !!!

Like The... Illuminati... !!!

Who RARELY EVER...
Are Those Who Are Seen...
In This World Publicly... !!!

Like Those Rockefellers...
So NO... NOT Jay-Z... !!!

But Could He Now Be...
One of Their Breed...
Due To His Money... ?!?

I’m Not So Sure...
That He’s The Type of Fella...
Who Could Ever Be A Member...
of Groups Whose Endeavours...
Can Buy... COUNTRIES... !!!

Because of BIG MONEY...
That Has Been Passed Down...
Over... CENTURIES... !!!

But Never Say Never... !!!
Or EVER... DISMISS...
What Type of Links...
Global Success Brings... !!!

Do People Ever Really Think...
About Things Like This... ?!?

And I’m NOT Thinking...
of The Type of Theorists...
Whose Conspiracies STINK...
of... NONSENSICAL Things... !!!

Are They EVER PROVED...
Beyond A Reasonable Doubt... ?

Is It Ever Really Shrewd...
To Just Hear Them Out... ???

These Days I Don’t Know...
If Dismissing Them All...
Is The Way To Go... ?!?

Is It Ever Really Clever...
To Dismiss...... Thought...... ?!?

Because You Think You Know Better...
Than Those With Agendas...
That Move Like Mayweather... !!!

Because You May Not Find...
A Way To Fight...
Those Who Are The Best...
In The Art of Defence... !!!

Like Government Heads...
Who Face Impeachment... !!!

Or Those Who OFFEND...
But Still Get To Express...
Without Showing Regret...
Or EVER Saying SORRY... !!!

For Causing DISTRESS...
And The Type of Protests...
That We All Now See... !!!

Have We Ever Seen Times...
That Are... THIS CRAZY... ?!?

Enforced Vaccines...
And A Global Disease...
That We Can’t Even See... ?!?

I Mean SERIOUSLY...
We’ve Seen Nazis...
And HORRIFIC Slavery... !!!

But Times Likes THESE...
Lockdowns of Countries...
And... Economies... !?!

Would You Ever Have Said...
People Could Change ***...
And We’d See The Type of Tech...
That’s Light Years Ahead... !!!

... WHATEVER Is NEXT... ?!?

But Let Me Stay On Subject...
And NOT... Digress... !!!

When Your Thoughts You Collect...
About Things That I’ve Said...
In This Poetic Text...

Is Freedom Dead... ?!?

Or Has Being Free...
Been Some Kind of FALLACY...
Fed By World Societies...
To CONTROL Humanity...

Because...
When All Is Said And Done...

From Freedom of Speech...
To Human Beings Being Free...

... In All HONESTY...
Is This Something That We...

Have TRULY... ???

........ “ Ever Been “.......

.i'm not even sure whether i'm right or left on any particular spectrum of politico, given the current events, but... how did politics become as engaging, as a rugby match?! now that's ******* bewildering... but i have a motto: keep the left hyper-sensitive in terms of hyperventilating, in subvert terms of: keep them talking, keep them excited, these people need the fuel that drives their a.d.h.d. mantra... the right, on the other hand? keep them tame, keep them sedated, keep them lock stock & barrel, making fetishes from being trigger-happy... real deer or imaginary deer... keep them focused, level-headed... but sure as ****: keep the left entertained, hyper-excited, give them the necessary momentum; given, after a while... the momentum exhausts, and subsequently consumes the vector, that instigates it.

**** me... a whiskey in the afternoon,
as the saying goes:
no gentleman drinks in the morning,
perhaps drinking in the afternoon
is some variant of a faux pas -
       but the sun goes really well with
miss amber...
          ah miss amber...
       my memory's fixation,
and a medicine for headaches and bad
memories...
    my amnesia prescription...
              funny... i'd love to write an epic
about memoria & amnesia...
like i might write an epic about
thanatos and hypnos...
   but alas... not to be... not to be...
although...
in the list of names...
      a Kantian ref.: shadow, something cold...
in the critique of pure wisdom
schematic (volume 1)...
so? the list:
    Nyx, Erebos, Geras, Eris,
            Nemesis, Apate,
      Charon... and the son of Charon...
****... sorry... the daughter of Charon...
Σκιά...
   ooh, played with fire, the Greeks did...
such a beautiful alphabet,
but they, really, really had to overplay
toying with the diacritical markers...
in translation that alpha, does indeed have
an acute symbol hovering above it...
but...
               But...
no... that's now how you account the word...
does a semi-wit of non-Roman descent have
to tell these people:
that's nice, nice... you're over-doing it...
look at ****-naked Britain!
i see room for potential,
a metaphor of Eden!

     Skíā             (because you're hiding
a sigh, along with a H, com, com,
   compre, pre pre, hen hen hen...
   comprende?)

       because why wouldn't i?
          first person in the family to go
to university, and what a bad idea that was,
thankfully the Labor party was in power
and the tuition fees were, an astounding
£1350 a year...
                  spotted a major tsunami of
English toffs,
  plus some English crumpets...
killed none...
          got a ****** degree in chemistry,
then inverted the periodic table on its head
and started spotting "sub-atomic" particles
in diacritical markings,
totally missing in the English language.

but beside all of this...
no... i'm not letting this observation pass...
screamers (2016),
and it's *****-mother
                    of lose plagiarism...
  the blair witch project...
  
                 i love, i love horror for
the theater, the dance macabre,
the exaggerations, the romance music...
the cenobites (covert word for monks)...
something pressing about
a disgruntled love, or memory,
or something to add a quintessential
theater....
                      even as impure as evil
becomes in the film hostel...
or how easily people talk about
the Holocaust... when not being involved...

i can stomach that ****...
but when there is no banality of evil?
rather, a canvas of the banality of life?
and there is a sharp, syringe precision
hovering of a dot insertion of
the cheapest form of evil?
            that **** gets me...
     i turn the volume down....
the images don't scare me,
          but couple that with music?
who the hell orientated themselves
with the suggestion that males were
primarily optical creatures?!
which evidently explains Mozart et al.

that sort of cheap horror?
   no theater, no art, the nitty-gritty?
the everyday diatribe?
                     i started to forget which
was the horror and which wasn't...
the dross of the happy-campers
with very subtle interludes of:
**** my pants shrieking like
playing the violin with the blunt
side of a knife for a bow...

                         ...
             did i wake up remembering
a dream? i swear i didn't think this up...
i'm pretty sure i was explaining
to someone the effects of the drug
Naproxen as an alternative to
sleeping pills...
                                  let's face it...
almost all pharmaceutical innovations
collide with
                              an artifact of derived
from Hypnos - sleep...
   Hypnos is the equivalent of Prometheus
when it comes to pharmaceuticals;

but Skíā, the daughter of Charon?
what could be darker
than the depth of night,
if not, a man casting his shadow upon
it?

i deliberated of this for a long time...
well... not really, just
a few seconds...
   you know what's missing?
a spanish feel to existentialism -
i don't think it's fair to claim
that existentialism was solely a moved
conjured by bored, french university
professors and chain smoking
cafe intellectuals,
   or by the hyper-sensitive a-hole
germans who required something more
precise than the division by a millimetre
standard...
i feel like adding a spanish tinge to
the narrative... namely?
ah, concerning the aesthetic,
  namely the abuse of ditto in english:
or so i heard - the "inverted" commas...
doesn't look that much inverted in pixel,
to be honest;
the existential aesthetic concerning
the: " "?
let's paint the **** thing red & yell'ah...
point being, enclosing a word using
the current, outdated existential model,
well...
     every time i read the technical
existential texts i'm feeling left, slightly bothered...
namely?
the pontius pilate syndrome...
****, should have said effect...
   notably with jean-paul sartre's inverting
commentary while citing: "ego".
   that's pontius pilate down the centuries
of history, that is.
   i can't but not own up to this:
it's either a misnomer (that's an easy explanation,
and much approved) -
       or it's an ambiguity - which
is also much approved...
but in conclusion? it's primarily a form
of questioning "bracket" -
on a presupposition pivot -
        the word thus encapsulated it question-rife,
or question-ridden, whichever you
like...
     hence my stress to move the movement
to iberia... away from the german & french
toffs of the 20th century's zenith;
ergo? ¿what now?
                    this!
oh, right, the main problem...
  the following p.s.:

i'll give you a million dollars if you upload
this on youtube (in reality? i won't,
i just like the expression) -

   steve wynn & the miracle 3's
album: ...tick...tick...tick...
  
   notably for the song cindy -

i've looked, can't find it!
    ****, it's almost like a googlewhack,
imagine owning a compact copy
and not being able to find it on
the internet to stream... ab-so-lute shambels...

p.p.s.
the compact i own is scratched,
    so it's like automated form of scratching
vinyl...
   by the way... you know that
if you encode scratched compact,
   and store it on an iPod, the **** thing breaks?
yeah, i couldn't fathom at first,
   how you can translate a scratched
c.d. into a broken iPod...
      a scratched c.d. translated into an mpeg4
format can completely destroy the physical
host that's an iPod...
    for some reason, the mp3 format is immune
to this phenomenon;
obviously this is a useless observation,
but an observation nonetheless...
  to think a scratched c.d. can destroy an iPod
by reading the broken hardware,
and somehow invoke the software component
that allows the translation into mpeg4
to destroy itself...
      ah the company is ****** anyways...
   who tries to **** off the headphones port is
a complete ******.

They'll tell you that you don't have a clue,
but you know what they're doing and what
they're doing to you,
who do they think that they are?

Posh toffs or ***** twots?
dripfed by nannies,
seldom leaving their cots,
getting dressed by their butlers
who then butter their toast,
coasting through life as if they're
the most in this life that anyone could be,

but they're not fooling me,
don't let them fool you into
thinking it's you that doesn't
have a clue

Or it'll be
Eton or Harrow
never
Toxteth or Jarrow
that gets the icing on
the cake.

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

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

nonwendigkeit:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matches on fire
Oh why do I watch
My brother the liar
Swirling his crotch
To inspecting girls
Beautiful faces
Perfected curls
All dresses and laces
You for me
And you for him
How good it will be
A promise so slim
I don’t want cast offs
Or my brothers choosing
Smart *** toffs
I’m already loosing
But carry on he will
Flirting and petting
It all makes me ill
My picked one is fretting
My brother is a fool
So now I’m going home
This isn’t cool
I’m not in Rome
Where you do as they do
I life my own life
I’m thinking *******
As I spot his wife

It could be true

I often wonder if there is a secret plot.
If the virus was human-made to reduce the number
of people living in poverty, and the old?
The minorities who live in inadequate cold housing have
high risk of catching the pest.
How can the poor keep the distance when living?
In tiny flats they cannot move, a lousy diet makes them vulnerable.
They die in record-high numbers.
It was like smearing the virus in liquid for on doors
and wait.
But the hidden elite was surprised who quickly the virus spread.
It affected their own, even a prime minister,
But he was known for having a loose moral and probably
Got it from a scullery maid, in his circle of toffs it is normal
Sleeping with a maid.
When a sufficient number had died of the vaccine was introduced
They had held back for many months it is free, and we are thankful.
And think not of revolution.

Sad to know
so you come from nothing
but the Welfare checks were helpful
and free milk made you grow so tall
ok so papi wasn't around much but mama tried
yes, she liked her nights out and strangers let in the morning
at least, you learnt about bonking pretty early
and boozing and drugging meet you at your door step
and no one could tell you what to do, isn't that cool?
So you learn pretty early to hate the goodie-two shoes
off course that's the thing to do, what else
its not like you can be smart and studious and hardworking like them
that's just so boring and silly, who wants to be prof Hawkins
better to bully and take the **** outta them, the ****** nerds
Its so much fun misunderstanding everything around you
such fun twisting things around
for good you say its sick or wicked
and off-course when you are being sick and wicked
that means you are cool
and dope for good is good cause dope for you is good, easy bruv
Yes, we know you're the man, man
anarchy rules ok
so come grace us with your wisdom
come do heads in
and mash those toffs and elitist up
they are useless parasite know nothing except about silver spoons
you and your mates bruf, have all the dope ideas
you are the salt of the earth.....