I was born here.
You were born there.
I was raised here.
You where raised there.
I was educated here.
You were educated there.
I have my beliefs.
You have your beliefs.
We do not agree.
We may go to war.
If I were born there.
If you were born here.
Things would be the same.
We are twice programmed,
genetically at conception and socially by the culture
we are born into.

I got my heart on another heist,
I thought she was the one
Never thought that I'd be twiced,
Our hearts caught in all the wants,
Now my cigarettes are my only vice,
Light up another one,
Each puff I'm dragging thrice,
Feelings dissipate all at once,
But my emotions are on a rollercoaster ride,
My depression cocked like a loaded gun,
My finger pressing on the trigger tight
You had me on a run,
Trying to turn my wrongs right,
First mistake strike one,
Strike two then came the warning light,
Strike three, that was the last one,
Out the door you went, disappearing into the light
Since then, I've been heavy on the ***,
The bottle starting to feel a little light,
My nights spent waiting for the sun,
But the sun never seem to rise,
Here I am, back in square one.

.the butcher's fill... perhaps some bukowski fluke... everyone is aiming at the latter... here... the butcher's fill... maybe more extreme: the slaughterhouse obelisk - a tangling spectrum of arthritis and gorging gluttony eyes... what of the revised: revisited... re-strained... re- re-... constipations in a bewildering transit... when standing still.

well...
there's not much room for anything
between listening to poetry
episodes from the 20th
century -
poets reclining... not exasperated:
rather lazy... tender...
almost exhausted...
not the sort of current
poetry such that words are
****... exasperated...
slamming bonkers...
   and... a snooker classic...
   o'sullivan vs. williams
               or vs. selby...
poetry, snooker...
                bbc radio 3...
- but why do all the best
    ones commit suicide...
but never this poetry too tender
or twiced forced -
          always this... lazily-be-told...
    a nugget of raw
beef... or tuna...
          what can be found
in an edible tongue?
except...
   to eat a cow's:
  the onomatopoeia
moo... a dog's the bark...
i... can't imagine... should i eat anything
beside my own secrecy and filth...
all this the near impossible:
if only i were born
with this tongue
rather than having acquired
it, learned it...
all this and no more -
        breaking the realities
of a grammar and some
vagary in -esque:
   never truly bothersome as to...
           heave exaltations
into the theatre of a self-invested
death: a willingness above
god's to...
              employ a biographer
and all else posthumously...
again: such a mediocre crux
of having invested
and not dare beyond it...
   listening to some poetry readings
from the 20th century,
a game of snooker...
and waking up listening
to bbc radio 3: because of a lack
of adverts...
    such platitudes...
such plain-basic...
           to be a lawyer armed
with only a thesaurus...
to make crisp the onslaught
of nuance...
pencil-sharpenings...
             - because i must make
do with a pragmatism
that's secured with chemical feuds...
like some:
not "rambo":
   the gangrene flake green...
a thing one did for the sacrifice
on the altar of youthful whims
and all prior:
that i need to shed "ambitions"...
rimbaud: i.e. rimbow...
     since where is the R
in goethe? in... gur-ter?
      to hell with the greek theta!
we'll say it for club exclusive!
          *******: gur-ter (goethe)
              "rambo" (rimbaud...
                             rim-bau -
                                sacred bleau)...
dear god... it must be a johnny
on film...
              and this one word
in the mother tongue...
       that it has to resound
in über-saxon... übersächsisch
    on a return...
     auf ein rückkehr...
               this one word though: rain...
deszcz...
         and borrow cyrillic:
                      дещ      (дождь)...
in that the barbarian speaks clearly...
of the sounds: no nuance...
as you would...
in that RAIN and REIGN
sound the same...
but...                        aren't...
         r-ai-n
                  r-eig-n
        even if you'd want to stress
that g-surd as much as you'd want...
you will not...
    where are there too many consonants
when one orthography
becomes another: deszcz becomes
                         дещ... "too many"
consonants...
oh yes the simple come:
waiting for being translated...
otherwise... these lines
of overt-complications...
found among translations...
   or strict details in a rubric: 1 + 1 = 2...
in translation
   in crossword puzzles...
               i sometimes wish this was
organic enough...
        that it could... wait for a translator...
that joyce's finnegans wake
was ever translated...
    point of concession (a)...
    that it's somehow spectacular...
without diacritical dictates
                             equivalent to √a ≈ ą
point of concession (b)...
                it's not that you couldn't
translate finnegans wake...
          but... why wouldn't
you learn english and...
   fall into the same put of despair
as delmore schwartz did...
  trying to find the book a larger
audience?

\last time i checked the mainstream narrative, i thought people were looking for neo-nazis?! some sort david attenborough style anthropological *******?! and god, and the uninhibited self... because you're really going to hear about terror attacks in poland; that feral land... you can always try... then again, the strong pull of mob rule might dis-satify your amibitions; we just call them ****** membrane imitations.\

/if **** germany produced heidegger? best read him... because let's face it, kant was hardly german, prussians are second cousins, twiced removed from the saxons, which is esteemed as the heartland (herzland) of, "our", modern, europe. could eat a meal with a skin-head, slap him silly on the shining exposure (best to ask me, but i am serious about an extra N added to the project, simply to disassociate it from shy); as the saying goes... there are people, and there are, people.

oh ****,
i'm into neo-****
music...
        notably:
wumpscut's - soylent grün
(umlaut on a U?
**** me, must be terrible
at diacritical arithmetic -
       must be the one
writing pool,
  instead of pöl -
    ******* little german
version of the continental
tongue that's english) -
die krupps' - nazis auf speed...
and one's: strafbomber....
nachtmahr's - tanzdiktator -
  cherry on top?!
    feindflug's grøßenwahn....
   tickly little ******
with the morph of the OE grapheme...
spreschen norge...
tickly tickly:
look at y'ah: 'ow cute!
                mein herr -
                  you want to *******
abstract the pronoun category further
misrepresenting
pluralism?!
               well, with english
desiring surd usage,
           yet invoking a: happening...
no wonder a militant jew ronin
will arise...
                  funny that...
just had idea concerning
the famous hungarian psychiatrist,
introduced
as dr. zaz...
                 could be sas...
the YZWZ confunsed them...
              shash... or rather szasz...
          sheesh-kebab!
sorry: shīsh kebab...
         there, ployed to reinvent the
ottoman land-grab...
   because are you sure
that diacritical mark abote iota
is static, not moveable (i.e.
    immovable?) -
  better luck next time..
             because you write it in
order for it to appear pretty...
i get it,
             orthography is a distant
form of aesthetic...
           but you can't exactly
fake the application,
  when all you're running on
is a surd application to I and J...
  makes no difference,
might as well chop the heads off...
    sh- sh-, shoo!
the most effective use of a broom.
ą, ę spawned
            œ reinvented... or rather ø...
the softest aspect of the german
tongue...
          soft pouch...
                a sense of:
curling the zunge...
                  approximated by the word
new...
                  yet never matching
the accurate encompass...
             there's a tail on that
*******, mind you...
            as to why and i are
so approximate...
                 h'wen of the far right
ditto heads...
                  h'ounce and h'once...
you through to U through to
yew...
            and a yawn...
              i like exploring
these dungeons,
        keeps me neat on my toes.