i read stories of angry drunks and wonder:
           why am i so "pathetic" reading into calm?
don't know... truths by a millionaire
might make more sense...
mix ***** with coke watch
the icecubes melt and then take another
sip and it's harsh, pinching like
a crab's signature...
         but then alcohol formulates
around me like a memory tool,
gone are the lessons of school,
      gone the need for arithmetics that
lead to no hoard of gold of erebor -
just that cinema and standstill -
   like my genesis of memory,
  with a great-grandfather in kindergarten
him playing the piano and me playing
a toy piano aged 4, and in my memory
he representing no clear image
but a mere shadow / merely a shadow...
               or laughing at my great-grandmother's
funeral, then sitting up at night
   gnashing my teeth so hard
until i managed to bite off a piece of my
left mandibular central incisor...
         and in the mourning crowd
  when close family members were throwing
flowers into the grave unearthed
and being asked to do likewise
i shouted no!...
                      and took the intended flower
to be thrown into the grave
   to my grandparent's home and sat there
with a candle, gently burning
     the petals with the flame until
the petals, originally red, turned purple;
it seems i can't forget my education in chemistry,
that's not me saying i prefer thought "experiments",
i find them abhorring,
             it's still perplexing how that rose
that was intended to be thrown into the grave of my
great-grandmother ceremoniously
     turned purple from red when gently
applying fire from wax...
        i'm sure a bunsen burner flame of blue
flame would have scortched it...
    as i'm sure you agree, there are hues
to fire, blue flames and very engaging chemical
experiments... in all honesty?
   i did the best chemical experiment in school
and not at university... thanks to mrs. khan...
it involved extracting polyethylyne
in an in vitro environment...
               what you might call an event horizon
akin to physics...
                    oh physics, and the fact that
it's focus on procuring adherents does not stand
within an in vivo environment they propose
to speak about it...
          oddly enough, chemistry does not
popularise itself, only biologists and physicists
popularise themselves,
         chemists usually turn into amphetamine
pushers...
  like: because it began with a ****** name
     and an even ******* primate, do i care?
no... i'm getting drunk!
  why do physicists and biologists get the *******
high-ground in culture and chemists get
the sub-culture? oh right... poetry and
the counter-culture...
      i own the literature:
a. atkins' physical chemistry
          b mcmurry's organic chemistry
c. shriver & atkins' inorganic chemistry...
   from experience though:
    organic chemistry is where you have fun...
it's almost culinary in nature,
   and the patience involved...
sometimes an experiment can last for days...
i find the other two environments too sterile,
well... inorganic chemistry is spectacular,
i'll just add that it's flamboyant...
             physical chemistry is a ******* graveyard,
that **** is so sterile that you don't
   even know whether it's physics or just
applied mathematics...
               but how electrons travel in
organic chemistry's textbooks?
            i could do that **** for ever -
                    the nearest thing to x-ray vision
of what is formed and how it all seems like
quasi-robotics of something taking off a faulty
limb and asking for a more manageable counterpart,
it's all metaphor though, evidently not literally
applicable...    but that doesn't say it's not similar
in the case of having such a point of view...
  but yeah... why do biologists and physicists
think they can speak about their theories
  as populists might speak their political agenda
when they're forgotten the principum in vitro?
                 what they are doing is what
current right-wing political movements are doing,
giving them a platform akin to populism
     i.e. via the principum in vivo...
                    i mean it's there, including chemists
running amok shoving toothpaste and petrol down
peoples' lifestyles... and sure, pills...
    but i find that less demeaning than showing
ideas into peoples' heads... like it might
       change their narrative skills for the better...
still...
        now i'm tempted to find the third alternative
to vitro / vivo...
                               in mirror, a replica,
    something that can compensate the phenomenological
groundwork for, say, the punk or goth movement...
     trouble is, what could be resurrected from latin
to derive the word mirror...
     mercury?                           it has to be,
given in silico, so there must be a counter-elemental
derivative working from that...
thus -                                             in mercurius,
     that ought to prescribe the x            definiton
     to a situation                  where + is rarely
                       attributed to the movement of the canvas;
and yes, writing can also imply
serving the dish neglect to all wordly affairs.

.wow, i never thought it would ever be possible,
i'm sorry, i have no empathy for these youtuber "creators",
any idiot can regurgitate the news,
venture into vulture journalism,
  then again: gone are the days of closely associated
with people like Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein...
they are really gone: what the hell was gamer-gate
compared to watergate? gate after gate,
and all i'm hearing is response videos,
it should have never come to this,
whereby journalists are as untrustworthy as politicians,
and of what remains, come the saturday and
the sunday editions, when the petty bourgeoisie
come out of the woodworks of a week,
album reviews, book reviews, t.v. reviews,
restaurant reviews: real, real journalism,
all the grit you'd expect from a warzone...
           journalists forgot they were not kindred spirits
of politicians: but immediacy historians...
the front-line history chroniclers...
i find... these days, esp. these days...
    you know why i like heidegger so much,
and forget the fact that he joined the **** party?
in 1938 he was already disillusioned by it...
so the ad homine fallacy bites the dust...
   even a **** deservers a redemption...
but i find that these days, of all days...
   man, as a historiological creature has to bow
before the unshakeable facets of the biological man,
esp. in the english speaking world...
    in terms of history and biology:
     history has all the fun stories,
and a sensible "concern" for time,
   well... if not "concern" then at least a bearbable
time-frame...
                  after all, i am the one who said:
all the great deserts of the world,
akin to sahara? they were once great
mountain ranges... you already know where
to look between a mountain range akin to the alps
and a desert... bound to h'america...
   monument valley: utah...
  a mountain becomes a rock after a while...
while the desert expands...
    ayers rock (uluru)... but monument valley (utah)
is a transition period between a mountain range
and a desert, if we're going to stand outside
of all space and time, and look back in...
we have plenty of time to catch-up on...
           just like i believe that black holes
are actually 2-dimensional objects:
   that spin really fast, giving an impression
of them being 3-dimensional objects:
as usually represented by a gravity dip associated
with them pulling matter into themselves...
i think that black holes are paradoxes...
since how can a 2-dimensional object
actually exist in a 3-dimensional space?
   that depends on the size of the "3-dimensional"
object / space... the universe is a medium,
it's defined as a "space" but to me...
      it's beyond space... it's only space on the grounds
of isolated time, 365 days,
the time and space it takes for the earth
to orbit the sun... which is an isolated example,
outside? well: there's atmosphere on earth,
outside? vacuum!
who's going to prove my theory wrong?
               not anyone in my lifetime -
besides the point with these youtube content
"creators": where credit is due, credit is due,
but once might have cared for their vulture
journalism... two old farts akin to felix (black pigeon
speaks) and sargon of akaad talking about how:
the youth are congregating to youtube to listen
to music: that's what i've always done...
  i discovered these youtube "creators" by accident,
i just wanted my jukebox back, man,
i wanted my algorithm back, my imprint back,
now that the devil's dozen scenario took hold
of the platform: 1 video playing, 12 back-ups...
and they're all the same, unrelated, *******...
        talk all you want, please, just give back
my algorithm imprint, where i can discover new music...
again... i never thought i'd see another
compilation video, 173 videos bound to one...
and, mind you... after finding about 6 googlewhacks
(googlewhack? when you use the sort of
language that provides you with only one search
result on the behemoth platform of billions
of results, 1 is grand, but 6? it's becoming too
predictable)...
                        so here's what i found
   (band - song):

wooly mammoth - mammoth bones / kyuss - space cadet,
rainbows are free - last supper / grand magus -
                                                mountain of power,
zed - lies / om - cremation chant I & II,
    smoke - hallucination / weird owl - white hidden fire,
orchid - son of misery / witch - seer,
               unida - you wish / black mountain - old fangs,
b.r.m.c. - ain't no easy way /
              jack daniels overdrive - ****** to death,
shrinebuilder - blind for all to see,
                   datura - mantra / the heavy eyes - voytek,
the machine - infinity / clutch - the regulator,
   colour haze - mountain / maligno - son of tlalocan,
dozer - twilight sleep / gomer pyle - albino rattlesnake,
blockback - dead mans blues / greenleaf - witchcraft tonight,
cactus jumper - right way / borracho - bloodsucker,
alabama thunderpussy - motor ready,
                    earthless - sonic power,
my brother the wind - death and beyond,
   zaphire oktalogue - carrion fly / siena root - reverberations,
unida - slaylina / pothead - toxic / sungrazer - mountain dusk,
   rotor - costa verde / blizaro - it's in the lighthouse,
planet of zeus - woke up dead,
     kongh - pushed beyond / ufomammut - smoke,
high on fire - to cross the bridge,
              the secret - bell of urgency,
      unida - wet pussycat / dozer - big sky theory,
cavity - chloride / brutus - swamp city blues,
the grand astoria - something wicked this way comes,
sasquatch - the judge / pharaoh overlord - skyline,
baby woodrose - love comes down / kamni - **** of satan,
lay with me - the flying eyes / cowboys & aliens  -
                                                out of control,
sons of otis - liquid jam / hainloose - recipe,
    ridge - rancho relaxo / bongripper - ****** sutherland,
skraeckoedland - cactus / grails - satori,
    lo-pan - chicken itza / five horse johnson - people's jam,
blind dog - don't ask me where i stand,
     wiht - orderic vitalis / hisko detria - nothing happens,
liquid sound company - leage for spiritual discovery lives,
   goatsnake - black cat bone / gandhi's gunn - rest of the sun,
the egocentrics - wave / propane propane - it's alright,
heliotropes - ribbons / mother mars - price you pay,
che - the knife / annimal machine - condenado,
   earth - tallahassee / the whirlings - delirio,
orchid - heretic / maeth - horse funeral,
siena root - rasayana / graveyard - longing,
           tia carrera - hell / hainloose - recipe,
      burner - five pills (and a bottle of whiskey),
dala sun - guilty for ****** / vulgaari - lie,
        slo burn - muezli / stonehelm - zombie apocalypse,
smallman - evolution / spiders - fraction,
         shakhtyor - e. jaspers / earthmass - lunar dawn,
evoke the lords - dregs / colour haze - silent,
     sutrah - el septimo viaje...
  

who are "these" people,
who: "supposedly" live for the future...
they always cite it,
as the one motivational
momentum of the present -
it's as if they've never seen
a bull itch the ground
with its front hoofs -
   imitating building up momentum
before a charge...
or how a slingshot,
or how a bow works...
   to these people,
the ******* sideways movement
of a bow against a violin...
sometimes...
      you do not retreat into
the past, to hide, to amount
to nostalgia...
     sometimes
the only reason for the reflexive
affirmation, confined to maxims
and aphorism, nay: even poems!
is to look back...
     to reap what was once
sowed, rather than sow blindly,
and reap: what no one wants
to reap...
    drunk? getting there...
       it felt so relaxing paying off
a 100 / 250 part of a debt
i owe her...
            while buying a russian
standard liter,
   asking for a 100 cash-back
of the supermarket cashier,
- the limit is 50,
   but if you buy something else,
i can give you another 50...
- oh... ok...
   so me went to and took a bottle
of shveedish cider...
   rekorderlig...
   mind you? the swedish,
what they perfected fermenting
better than what the the irish claim
to fame is?
    sorry... magners:
               irish? stick to the guinness...
(it's actually the only cerveza
i'd go into an english pub to
drink from the tap... bottled? canned?
not the same)...
     but with such swedish delights
such as the above mentioned,
  ålska and K  ö   nigsberg
                            *œ?
no competition... the suede(s) just
do one thing grand...
    cider...
- what was i talking about?
  ah... the "dreaded" past...
     the people who say:
  but you can't live out a life,
   holding onto a private past,
a memory...
    so... these other ******* were
allowed to implant a false
past, unrelated to me,
teaching me whether it was
Newton, or Leibniz who first
invented the infinitesimal calculus
method?
                i'm betting on Leibniz...
after all... he took the position
of a ******* librarian...
   and he wasn't buried with pomp
& circumstance at Westminster Abbey...
sometimes...
         one person can't have it all...
but if the education system
is a system that is indicative for
the erosion of memory, esp. private
matters... and juggernauts in
with these selective rubrics of science
and history...
fair enough the basic
implants: numerical arithmetic,
and lettering arithmetic -
    and then... lessons in mental
entertainment... when applied
           to menial labour...
memory is: supreme...
          i can't give my memory up...
that's what: killer proteins
eating the fat tissue of the brain
like starvation in reverse
        of a case of Alzheimer's?
memory is: cameo cinema -
    however distorted it might be,
although i beg to differ on
whether time per se,
  is not the better psychedelic
component
when coupled with memory -
esp. the cinematic aspect of memory...
there was never a "living" in
the past -
      there was a point about memory
to sharpen the edges of
    "dasein"... all speculation and
questions regarding consciousness,
as championed through
a chimpanzee's *** are somehow
pointless:
    given there's a higher tier of
conceptualization -
   working from dasein...
            hierjetzt -
      or in english?             presence...
- because why would i treat
a personal memory,
like some inorganic entity of
a schooling system,
under Catholic measures,
  that made it necessary to include
Pythagoras... but not Horace?
that's inorganic memory...
and unless i turn into some
inorganic entity -
   the organic aspect of my psyche:
my past, my cameo cinema?
   that's going to be a leech,
attached to me...
  and i'm not going to give it up,
just like... when i walk about
my door, and enter the england
that i know on the peripheries...
i'll speak the lingua franca -
     but with my privacy?
    you'd better cut my tongue off
before i stop speaking
my western slavic heritage...
    and it pains me...
when certain groups of immigrants...
don't know the POINT
where immigration becomes
insensible... self-lacerating...
           i once hated their approach...
now i just pity them...
anyone ****** can juggle
     two oranges rather than three...
p.s. old school cure for a cold?
forget the pills...
   glass of warm milk,
  an egg yolk,
     and a good scratch of butter...
  (on the rare occasion,
  milk infused with garlic)
mixed together...
before bedtime...
  if the ****** won't sweat out
the bacteria during the night...
     well... stick to the synthetics...
i'm pretty sure i know why i drink...
certainly not to: PARTY PARTY PARTY...
i always aim for
the one safety net of "pharmacology"...
ssssssssleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

p.s. so much for children loving their
parents...
        in vitro and the whole
m.g.m. debacle:
so, sweet little *******,
       no *******, no chance for your
for a quickie satellite launch date from
Tehran, under all the weight of
monotheism turned secular...
christianity: the only "monotheism"
with overt tinged of polytheism,
lutheran, baptist, catholic, orthodox...
just today i opened my door twice...
once to a confused curry house delivery man:
did you order some food:
i too replied with a confused look
and the word: huh?! no.
then a black woman with a a white ol' granny
came by with a leaflet...
the jehovah's witnesses were on my trail...
lucky of my grandfather,
   the profanity brigade of the hebrew name
i will not dare utter came by...

  and if you have lived a good enough life:
memory? memory beats hollywood
technicolour and CGI...
at least in the cinema of memory i always
get to play the cameo (role)...

oh i get the youtube creators:
   living with his parents... still. aged 33...
funny that i don't mind them,
since they're getting older they're settling
into their solispsism,
        annoying as ****, but i stand them,
thank god the protruding caduceus veins
on my phallus protected me from
a circumcision...
  i can ******* like a girl with a web-cam...
no scented candles:
the no. 1, 2 & 3 on the throne of thrones...
the toilet, simultaneously masaging my ****
and prostate...

men were not exactly supposed to derive
pleasure from ***: they were,
supposed to give pleasure,
and in giving pleasure to one outlet,
they were subscribed to finding out what
best pleases them: ergo?
women would always derive more of
the people from *** than men would ever...
*** is not a story of bragging about
a harem... the woman lies flat...
the man pumps her...
after all... she is the one burdened
to carry a child, why wouldn't she be
the one deriving more pleasure from *** than
a man could ever?
72 virgins! ha ha!
   ah ha ha!
             what's the ratio?
   last time i checked... a 3 hole caravan...
of a woman's worth...
   mouth, ******, ****... and man?
only two points of entry, well...
"entry"...
                    seems that the tomatoe,
really is a fruit, but is treated like a vegetable
nontheless!
homosexuality in the 1960s...
william burroughs in Tangiers...
                    when Islam was quiet radical...

well... i cook, i clean...
                what are my other options of continuing
to write and living the ed gein "lifestyle",
i tried getting social housing in england,
but, i'm not a somali with two wives and a dozen
kids...
              rent, in london?
extortion...
                   housing shortage...
                 well there's me hating my parents,
the outside world just needs to see
an ed gein imitation...
               or there's me living off acorns
in the woods, or rummaging on the streets,
making the N25 bus from oxford st. to ilford
my own personal mobile hotel as a homeless
man in london...

   i think it's time to succumb to your
parents prejudices, if only for the jokes,
no point in making ethical high judgements
to fit into a zeitgeist narrative surrounding
yourself with people: you'd never eat a meal with...
that's how i define the highest form of respect:
if i'll eat with you: implies that i respect you...
i drink alone...
a high school fwend once thought he could
bribe me with his company,
that i "had to" drink with him...
      no... not really...
          i much prefer drinking by myself...
these days you're not expected to honour your
mother and your father,
i.e. make them proud...
               honour is a double-edged sword...
just don't be ashamed of having
a mother or a father...
not that hard: given western divorce rates...
i.v.f., frozen eggs... yadda yadda yadda...
lucky me in having went to university...
oh... really? so much cooler in a cosmopolitan
environment with your contemporary
flat-mates?
               get the picture?
                 paying rent while literally living
in a diguised cardboard box?
i can't help the fact that poetry doesn't pay...
that there are economic factors beyond
my control in play...
   maybe if i was the grandson of my parents,
born in england, and not elsewhere,
there would be some sort of + leverage...
for a bricks and mortar start-up...
plus... i hoard...
         books and music...
                     mind you:
neither of my parents spoke english as their
mother tongue...
  neither did i...
they didn't teach me this tongue:
i had to teach this language by myself:
for myself...
           aged 8: thrown into the deep end
of the pool: now swim ******, swim!

i just feel sorry for the immigrant parents
who gave birth to their children into the *****
of the land they immigrated to...

two days ago i found a heartbreak,
a romanian couple, with a child...
the father was stubborn in teach his daughter
his / her native sprechen...
romanian... but she was already speaking
perfect antithesis of accent kindergarten english...
and almost non-responsive to her tongue
alligned to her biology...
    clearly she was born in england,
but her parents were both romanian...
i've had that conundrum in my head
for a long time...
   what if i married an english girl...
and i was unable to teach my offspring
my native language,
what if i had to silence my native tongue,
"forget" it, or only speak it by myself,
via reading a book in western slavic?
what if the woman i married:
wouldn't see the benefits of bilingualism,
outside of the mainstream economic
mantra of ensuring your children
learn either german or mandarin or arabic?
that worried me...
          oh believe me, i enjoy my lapses
into english: since i am providing the groundwork...
but in the case of having offspring...
e.g. teaching them the western slavic tongue
so they could speak to their grandparents
(i.e. my parents)...
       even my grandparents lament
the scenarios when a woman would marry
an austrian... and she wouldn't teach
her children her native tongue,
and when the grandchildren would visit their
grandparents... they'd be speaking
a crude variation of braille, morse,
   sign-language: na migi...
               i know that my mother is alive
in me even under this veil of english...
because she's more than the womb,
the genitals of my conception, the breast fed off...
she's also the Atlas of my vocabulary
of the "hiding" tongue beneath this one...

i already knew the "game" was rigged from
the get-go... i've seen how one hindu woman
suffered being married to a scouser...
she never managed to pass on her language
to her children,
she bought a library, thinking her children
would succumb to learning: however poor
they might end up being...
but she was suffocated by the english
tongue of her husband...
and her children didn't express even the most
vague of desires to learn their mutterzunge...

that's what worried me to begin with,
marrying an english woman i was afraid
of the ignorance that someone bilingualism
was en route toward a psychiatrist disorder
i was diagnosed with: schizophrenia...
this anglophonic ignorance still scares me...
like: everyone is expected to speak the revisionist
globalist lingua franca: this anglo lingua...
if i didn't meet a bilingual / polyglot woman,
i'd return to rearing idiotic children...
anglo lingua was only supposed to be a middle-ground,
a "no man's land"...
             a language of trivial economic transfers...
a language primarily orientated around usage:
rather than an ethno-centric basis for "englishness"...
to **** with: god save the queen...
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
                 old scot dragoons': auld lang syne...
those where my forever anthems...
see...
        what gave birth to a jihadi john?
his mother "forgot", his father "forgot":
his "mother" forgot, his "father" forgot to speak
the "ancient" tongue...
there's a point to integration of the immigrant,
an immigrant is a forgetful creature,
an ever pleasing creature...
never to mind himself as an ex-pat...
you ****** forget your mutterzunge...
you'll be speaking in cockney accents
with broken affairs of arabic beheading people
for zombified reasons of grandeour!
*******...
          you, you: you are to blame!
you were so ashamed of your parents that you
delved on honoring them to the point
of thinking giving pride unto them was very
much akin as keeping shame away from
their girdle of the wedlock of your own existence!
death has not made your a martyr...
i guess you deserve those 72 mishaps,
those 72 annoying voices...
and i pray to god that you receive your reward!
i hope that among the 72 you will never find
a chance a repose to find your: self!

integration is one thing,
pandering to the "elites": plebs who think they
are kings among the plebs,
is quiet another...
plebs who go places and think english
is a universal tongue: just because
uncle sam says so...
of those i respect:

y cymraeg: pwy dal eu tafod...
an gàidhlig: cò fhathast bruidhinn an cuid teanga...
i nawet moim: co ma mówić
to nawet tyle: co znaczy tak niewiele!

there are boundaries... learn the customs
of the natives, but ensure you retain the customs
you were born with...
a child, born in a foreign land,
ought to ensure his parents teach him
the words to speak to his grand overseers...
complete immersion,
this cultural abortion,
this cutting of the umbilical chord
from: i have never met a people so
content at having been subjugated outside
the indian sub-continent,
cricket... for ****'s sake...
       as to demand other europeans
to treat them as superiors,
when sitting alongside an englishman...
****-bud-bud, the **** are you on about?!
once again: england has become the circus
for the grounding of what began
with engels and marx...
   wasn't communism born from
engels and marx observing english society?
sure... first experimented en masse in
mongolia... but its origins?

   so of course i had problems finding a suitable
mating partner... i was afraid that my nativ-zunge
would die a slow but solemn death...
that an english bridge would not consider
the worth of a bilingual child, or a polyglot,
or that she would repress the chance of my
"biological continuum nuance" to respond outside
of the anglo lingua refrain of: beside the english language?
there are quiet a few one might want to learn...

it's not easy being a first generation immigrant,
esp. if you moved aged 8, mute as a wolf
to a domesticated dog's barking...
but hey, no jihadi john in me...
           jihadi john should have been raised
bilingual... i wouldn't be the one speaking broken
tourist arabic while beheading someone...
jihadi john spoke tourist arabic...
the dichotomy of the mind to the biological
reality, beside the current, western,
"biological relativism" debate...
      clearly darwinism was "wrong"...
man is, these days, left with neither a biological
reality, nor a historical reality...
              but there is a historical reality:
but it's so knit-&-picky...
come on... philip augustus of the capetian
dynasty?
                 casimir III...
                        jeremi wiśniowiecki...
konrad I of masovia...
                           kuno von lichtenstein...
alles ist gott: und gott ist alles -
  gott mit, uns!

              mit eine leben wert leben:
    erinnerung ist die nur kino
             wert sehen eine film beim;

hell... could be worse:
   i might have translated some latin
of horace into pig-trough comfort food.

.i have come to realiße that... it's not so much what you write about... but the mere fact of writing... i can't imagine myself being subjected to something, like a narrative, or furthering a character study... i can be the object of whatever is whimsical enough to come into my head of its own accord - i want to forget forcing something to come into this puncture, this dam, this incision that i am coordinating... and it's not that i'm objecting to something, but i am not going to subject myself to - no more than a whim, of its own desires... with no attached: i think so too... it's not about what i write anymore: it's the fact that i write... if i'll be able to spew 3 thousand words tonight... i'll be content... because... i know that i have crossed the threshold of not being left "satisfied": nonetheless constipated by an instagram haiku... mind you... that's a very troubling hindsight note you have in there... wouldn't an object the size of the earth... in a vacuum of space... create its own winds to imitate movement? there is no wind on the moon... yes... and we're talking hindsight from 420BC... the moon landing happened in the 20th century... let's give it some times before that becomes an obvious hindsight too... do you feel movement - rotating - did the turkish dervishes help at all?

the fine line between: competition and corporation,
otherwise known as a: very, very, naive poo'em...

by a definition alone:
it's not so much concerning whether this
would ever become a capitalism vs.
a communism "debate"...

after all - i'm ref. walking a tight-rope...

of the latter, verbatim:
'an association of individuals,
created by law or under authority of law,
having a continuous existence independent
of the existences of its members
and powers and liabilities distinct from
those of its members'...

can i just point out, foremost,
in an environment of competition laws can be bent...
to add to: the spectacle...
the athletics doping scandals:
it's within a spirit of competition...
the sprinters are not corporating for give
a spectacle... they are competing...
for the the spectacle...
ask me again the difference between...
what used to be a competitive event
done during leisure hours...
and what was a leisure event akin
to reading...
and ask me again: the difference between
taking part in the event of competing...
and watching a competition -
and what had to be involved to give
the spectacle its architecture...
i don't think it was so much competition
as it was corporation... never mind for now...

after all... how many times have laws
been bent when watching a football match?
the passing of law is hardly an objective
crux that so many "rational" and logic-"riddled"
people stress - can be made by one man...
sure... laws in vivo - science and what not...
these objective safety-nets...
that can lead to endless to-and-fro...
but i hardly think... man is capable of passing
objective laws: in vitro... notably in -
           in unum: omni...
unless that's a schizophrenic metaphor...
which is already a metaphor when
tested on a bilingual brain...

how many people did it take...
to pass: the earth rotates around the sun?

the heliocentric model...
genesis in the west from philolaus,
heraclides ponticus,
pythagoras (hindsight...
wouldn't an object moving in
a vacuum of space... create winds of
its own?)
aristarchus of samos,
then onto philolaus of croton -
anaxagoras; whoever was
debunked by ptolemy... then so many years...
until enough time passed...
before people could take the plunge and
be certain: for old time's sake with
copernicus - well the people have been sleeping
for long enough...
enough time has passed and we can pass...
this objective truth... that the heliocentric
model is true and that the pharaohs held
no authority as the sons of the sun
in the static geocentric model...
likes Xerxes ordering the sea to the be whipped
to calm down... and become a lake...
some pharaoh must have had a wild
idea telling a sand dune to stop moving
or seeing some mt. sinai said: shrink!
so instead be said: let's build us a... perfect pyramid...
a mountain that looks... geometric from
both afar and near!

or at least that's what Homer would have
said when visiting Giza: Δ'uh!

so a single man is somehow justified
in passing an objective truth?
unless the mob encores...
but what about the jury - a trial without a jury
is any trial at all...
murky ground if you ask me...
i don't expect man to pass...
judgement for a universal equilibrium...
but what i do expect is that:
he doesn't think he's capable of this: grandiosity!
clearly he's not... the objective reality
of falling... the subjective: i'm right as
allocated the status judge: therefore i'm standing still.

competition in a medical environment...
only in the realm of psychiatry...
and the mine-field of misdiagnosed misfortunes...
but i hardly think... competition is a catalyst
for getting surgery done...
corporation, yes...
among farmers? a rare treat....
a hobby pursuit for a selected fraction of
the crop... the dear-to-my-heart "g.m." tomato...
but all the other tomatoes... need to be harvested...
but this my pet-tomato... which needs to be:
THIS BIG! another matter...

sport and competition...
but work... and competition?
no wonder work and competition,
rather than corporation gives end results as...
who's wearing the most trendy sneakers?
who's social media account requires...
the most editing? who's child is the one with
the smartphone? etc. etc.

the bait of the poo'em is that it's naive:
but i think it is - so there's that to begin with...

i still can't fathom that "capitalism" was solely
promulgated on competition -
i'm still having to address the "model" as...
having to retain a "socialist" aspect akin to corporation
to get away with... what later became:
an all out economic "war" of competition...

naive utopian of me to somehow huddle
at the fireplace of corporation...
work - if so many people hate their work...
what would be the only gratifying
alleviation? and i'm pretty sure some places of work
are less about competition: and more about
corporation - as i write this...
the british national health service...
some people will compete by cutting corners...
competition will lead to doping scandals...
competition is... an Elisium for the few
and... a crab-bucket for the some...
call them the 10% cliff-hangers...

i've noticed it in poetry... slam poetics...
what not... this affair is already riddled with too many
****-up ****-wit window-lickers:
of which i am primo...
but i don't think it necessary to compete...
this was never about competition...
not every work is required to be
tinged with competition...
sometimes... it's just better to corporate...
do... undertakers compete?
do... postmen compete?
last time i heard: each is allocated his volume
of letters... it doesn't matter whether
he finishes his chores before the other postmen...
no postman is stupid enough
to take up someone else's allocated letters...
the first finishes his chores sooner...
the latter works overtime without pay...
it's a corporation of endeavours...
all the same... but there is no need to give these
postmen running orders when
they can walk the ******* mile...

competition within the realm of sport is one
thing... i guess a long time ago...
some people engaged in competition: sports...
to escape the general lagging begin plateau
of corporation... Rome wasn't build in
a single day... others dedicated themselves to
slouch and sloth of expanding the cranium
by reading a book...

the naive is still the bait...
is conscripting in an army...
about competition... or following orders and hierarchy
and therefore: not solely about corporation?
hierarchy you ask...
well... wouldn't that be something borrowed from
plutocracy / nepotism?
competition in an army environment...
what if you're in the royal guard
competing at what... shooting more blanks
into the sky expecting to shoot down the moon
at a wrestling-match fake
of staging of a state funeral?!
the cannons sounded... and that's all these
ever did... they were shooting with
empty wallnut shells! the wallnuts were
eaten by gunpowder gremlins long ago...
before the pomp & circumstance was shot
with: aenemic *****...

this is not a capitalism vs. a communism
debate... communism was riddled with nepotism...
come to think of it...
capitalism is not there yet...
but it's already there...
from what i've heard...
capitalism as this utopia ideal is not a meritocracy:
exceptions are made...
cicero was an exception of the roman empire
under nero...
exceptions and genetic freaks...
is this still a naive poem?

i can understand where competition works -
notably in what jobs it might work...
but most jobs require a stable work ethic
of corporation...
perhaps all self-employed entrepreneurs...
"perhaps" have no corporation in mind...
to a greater degree of orientating themselves...
in that corporation is: outside the bracket...
if everyone was suddenly...
self-employed... there would be no fear of...
the robotic onslought to come...
at least then... the microcosm would open...
and there would no longer be any employees...
just self-employed facets of...
"corporations in name only"...
which they already are...
corporations in name only...
given that... the corporations are no longer
competing with each other...
they have consolidated on a monopoly...
and since they are no longer competing with each
other... they have designated their former...
inter-competition into a hierarchal intra-competition
of "employees"...

can a bus driver, or a tube train operator compete?
by law... you can only drive a bus for 8 hours...
to operate a tube train... you can do X number of hours...
and these include breaks... necessary breaks...
can you find competition in these:
ultra-corporative environments? no!
capitalism might think it is necessary to scare everyone
into: the robots are coming! time to be self-employed
and compete! compete!
but some jobs are still: primed to corporation!

could i ever see undertakers competing?
in times of a spiked demand - during a plague...
what is healthy in sport -
is not necessarily healthy in a workplace -
after all... most people detest earning money -
it's a chore - mind you: do i enjoy writing poo'etry?
am i being paid for writing it?
no... i am "volunteering"... for the love of
the art... for ****'s sake... nothing more!
nothing less!

is this still a naive poo'em: yes... sorry...
i forgot to be caustic and there's no rhyme... my bad...
but this is not a capitalism vs. communism
tirade... from the yoke of the soviet union...
i learned from my mother that...
flues weren't really that prominent...
not until the 1970s...
by then it was a common theme...
biological warfare... while the crown-virus has
yet to claim a life outside of the mandarin
genetics: in the age of propaganda journalism:
you hear a "truth" one day...
three days later you're singing along to your
own "biased" / solipstic narrative...
after a while you have to adopt the "autism"
of solipsism: the world can only bite so much
out of you... you have to turn to standards of delusion
to match to their: from the many, one...

in sport, competition is the "zeitgeist":
it's not a metaphor, it's a misnomer...
but given the " " ditto brackets - i'm tired of looking
for the: "required" word... sometimes...

by the 5th definition of competition...
it's not as direct as corporation, competition
needs to borrow from an -ology...
again, verbatim: 'rivalry between two or more
persons or groups for an object desired in common,
usually resulting in a victor and
a loser but not necessarily involving
the destruction of the latter' -

what is untrue about this is that...
the destruction of the latter is paramount...
at least these days...
am i to believe that capitalism was not,
not ever, tinged with a belief in corporation...
that it was always, somehow, only about
competition?
what was communism born from?
when did the abolishment of serfdom happen
in russia? 1861...
the abolishment of slavery happened
in england in 1865... 4 years after...
but... but!
in russia? the slaves were thought of as...
people from within russia...
in england? the slaves? en route a trade from
one foreign place to another...
wow!
all slavery: either foreign, or domestic...
and to think that communism was a "failure"...
hard to imagine... truly hard to imagine...
given that... communism was born...
4 years prior to slavery in general was abolished...
of foreign to become "nationals"...
what does english he-he-history tell us about
native slaves? four years prior to the slaves
moved from africa to the cotton candy fields...
there were slaves that were not: ***** out of africa...

reperations who's who?!
why didn't capitalism bloom in russia...
why will it never bloom - oligarchs and...
currency of modern western capitalism:
nepotism...
who is jared kushner?
mr. cushions mr. cushtie...
mr. minted in: network baron...
slavery was abolished on the international scale
in england in 1865... four years after...
internal slavery was abolished in russia... 1861...
isn't that the sort of wow you were expecting?!
so when was slavery-slavery abolished
in england?
again... if internal slavery was abolished in russia...
4 years after slavery on an international
stage was abolished...
communism was a failure because: per se...
or... was communism supposed to be...
a short-cut attempt to catch up to capitalism?
was it a failure in catching up to capitalism?
in the 2008 financial clash...
where was Poland? recession free...
again... communism was a failure per se...
but... was it a failure in terms of catching up
to capitalism?
to me... it's still catching up...
when again... we're talking... freeing people...
only 4 years prior to people who would
otherwise still be... rummaging the romances
of Kenya and seeing no albino tourists sipping
brandy on their shores...
perhaps better for the whole load of us...

i ask, again, in my naive way...
that's the difference between competition and corporation?
not much...
a football team needs to compete with other football teams,
but it needs a corporative methodology behind it...
you can sometimes spot a maverick who wants
to be the solipsist in the team and become
nothing more than the top goal-scorcer -
then again: a kevin de bruyne and the number of assists...

if there was to be a level playing field...
everyone was to be self-employed...
what fear from robots?
competition on a ford's:
each man is a cog in the assembly line...
you can't compete... were you supposed to?
i thought that the only reason sport
was fun was to be compete and corporate...
it wasn't solely about competing:
not even in tennis are you ever competing...
unless you're serving a ****-ace...
competing but also corporating:
for the spectacle: with 19shot rallies...

to reiterate: this is a really naive poo'em...
is has to be!
- again... before capitalism became this hell-scape
spiral of: fear of robotics / a.i.:
let's just see if we get enough self-employed
people on board...
oh sure: the self-employed undertaker...
the self-employed bus-driver...
i'm sure there was, what's not called:
a "healthy spirit of competition" in work related
niches of existence...

i'm an alcoholic living among workaholics...
not a pretty sight... believe me...

i'm sure that capitalism... must have began
with: a "healthy spirit of corporation"...
that one henry ford would benefit more than
all the assembly line workers: fine...
the brains is allowed the conscious efforts
to move the eyes, close them,
use the jaw... bite... do magic with the tongue...
the liver has no knowledge of alcohol...
the heart isn't exactly aware of either veins
or arteries... fine... a henry ford cigar can get
away with thinking he's not adding
a chimney to the whole affair...
or a rhine-valley load of chimneys...
the stomach doesn't know what taste is...
sure as **** the small intestine knows
what it feels like to be a woman:
should it find itself unfortunate to have
a hitchhiker tapeworm attached to it... etc. etc.

but i imagine the capitalism had a sense of
corporation before...
it worked too many psychopathic sport analogies
into itself... precursor to the fear
or a.i. robbing people of their jobs?
testing people in a self-employed job market...
again: oh sure... the self-employed undertaker...
the self-employed busdriver!
perhaps a self-employed cabbie...
a self-employed surgeon?
how would that work?

        what's that? the cult leader... would not find
a job status match... in a corporate market of ideas?
then a ******* maverick he is...
esp. with such dates as: the brian jonestown
massacre hovering over his head!

perhaps i am naive is reiterating:
work implies corporation rather than competition,
in that work implies chores...
i've seen this in my father -
he doesn't underand household chores
on the basis on corporation -
he understands them on the basis of competition...
and he's to somehow... take pleasure
in the "free bread and circus"...
when the circus is not what it used to be?
once upon a time: the circus involved
men... who were footballers...
but they also did part-time metallurgy work...
they would clock in at a certain hour...
then be let off work to play a football match...
they weren't paid: professional:
disappropriate wages...
because their "work"... was over-inflated
by the gambling syndicate dicta...

there was a utopia in Poland...
it lasted for... roughly 30 years... from 1945
through to 1975... after that the herrings
didn't want to be pickled...
the baltic sea started to boil and the fish
strarted to froth at the mouth...
it's not a nostalgia segment: i was born in 1986...
this is mythology: curating the temporal
standards of modern journalism...
history: what time ago?
50 years? elvis was abducted by aliens...
n'esst ce pas?!

slam poetry competition with fellow:
poo'em eaters...
can i jut take the armchair with Horace?
i don't feel like competing...
what am i competing for?
volume... a new YA novel?
i will not ***** language...
even if it is a language i acquired:
and it's not a tattoo native first come first served
expression...
this is not a capitalism vs. communism
affair...

all the: towel in champions of capitalism
have made it clear:
start a traditional family, start a farm...
milk some goats...
pluck some eggs... living the dream:
brown fingers and all...
                       way way out from competition
in the workplace...
so... no need to corporate...
solo does it...
                                and if i'll be needing some
milk... i'll likewise claim: an autistic
pension and enough barren land to feed
goats organic glue and toilet paper that
magically morph into... a propaganda poster...

olim truncus eram ficulnus, inutile lignum:
once i was a stump of fig,
a wood without use... this is my best Horace:
thank you, goodnight...

what is to be competed for?
rather: what it to be retained, kept, status quo
enclosed... this pride for corporation?
competition in the workplace can only go as far...
not all professions can allow competition...
some will forever retain their base:
corporation...
to compete outside the realm of sport...
sport... those with enough awareness
of the body would pursue it...
those with a bit more brain in tow...
wouldn't... the ghost limb terms:
there's nothing of note
when it comes to competing with i.q. in
mind... or corporating...
there's this ancient feat of "solipsism" and
self-bettering... rather than running
the "expected" mile...
was capitalism always this:
chicken-shack-shackled into... wishing to squeeze
out drinking water... from pig ****?

again... this is not as easy give-away
that it's a capitalism versus communism base scrutiny...
all the eastern european laid-deeds have made it into
their chandelier filled land-allotement sights of
better ****** that gynocentrism...
i don't mind...
      yes... because among the bulgarian strip-party
i'm the ottoman janissary turned
well spoken sheikh... when morocco is given...
a fictional name... and i'm the Ali
that rubs Muhammad's lamp and
averts the... most ****** schism...
oh sure... Islam would be a pure religion...
and they would be allowed to complain about
porky-pies...
but... you see... how long did it take
for a schism to emerge between the orthodox grees
and tha catholic italians?
how long did the islamic schism take
to grovel and dig trenches?
not that much...
after all... Shia... Persians... Ali Woke-oh-Haram...
and the ****'ite... the ***** muslims...
the Saudi bin-Ladens...
well... that schism... didn't take that long...
some whisper about a schism in the monotheism
of the hebrews...
ha ha! i write ha ha... but even i have to laugh
out loud... a monotheism an inbreeding
of something more than genes...
fix the idea... and continue!

by now even i know that christianity has reached
a status of polytheism...
it's the same jesus... sure sure...
via no other than the orthodox,
the catholic, the protestant (calvinist, lutheran)
standards... or the baptists... or the jay-***-***-V-and-G
standards...
next thing you know: the vegans are
the gnostic monks!
because it has to be a joke at this point...
if christianity is a monotheism...
i'm mother theresa and that albanian
that stole george w. bush' mickey mouse's watch
on a state visit...
so to complete the holy trinity...
i'll be... alastair campbell... always for the giggles...

an alcoholic among workaholics...
who always had the satan's postbox concerning
the niqab... the same ones who were to be always
quoted: the beast from the east...
jesus is coming! look busy!

i mean... no need to look busy...
when the high a tide is making a comeback...
would you believe it?
if you saw the words... united kingdom...
england, scotland, wales... ireland...
that this was not moldova?
this is a language these are letters so arranged...
by an island-dwelling folk?
if you're the first, driver...
shotgun! who are we smuggling in the passenger
seats behind us?

imagine my surprise at the rereading,
with the typo: a missing (s) in letter()
and a missing (d) in arrange(d)...
i call them... the lost key of solomon...
or my own personal, hybrid,
hard-on...
oh god kept me with a phallus...
while giving all the angels a proper chopper
of the ol' wood... **** to stump...
i'm the one that wasn't circumcised!

and all i now have to sing about... is...
a forest of pines! a forest of pines!
pines pines pines! yippy caye!

the reason behind some of my poetry: i do appreciate the fact that some of them are sloppy, and aim at crafting an expansion of the vocabulary i already have, but as i drink i relax it happens automatically, but i know i can return to the sober reality of increased volume - all i know is that when i do this unwinding into what i can only call abstraction, it's because i'm entering the joycean domain of finnegans wake, which isn't exactly brothers grimm or disney territory, given that the book is dedicated to his struggle with his daughter's diagnosis of schizophrenia. one example comes with words like the prefix nou(n)- and the suffix -verb, which i borrowed from the kantian transformation of the word phenomenon (that which can be clearly understood due to the no. of similar analogues, and their seemingly constant re-, i.e. repetition, recurrence, re-emergence), hence the meaning i derived from the new word is: the activity behind a noun, e.g.: wheel... wheels rotate on a flat surface, and due to gravity roll down hills; another e.g.? bird - birds sing in varying degrees of diversity and they fly, and share a common origin with reptiles, since they hatch from eggs. i think that's enough examples behind the meaning nouverb... perhaps i might change it to nouneverb, because if translated into french, the french might make connotations with noué vogue, and i don't want this word to mean simply new verb, but the activity behind the noun.*

poets are known to use technical terms of poetry,
to invoke a knowledge of the topic,
perhaps even to condense matter, nonetheless
they use technical terms for balance, and orientation
in what they're saying, the key indicators as it were;
but i find it strange that in every philosophy
book i read, there are no prime technical terms:
of course you will find logic compounds,
like phenomenology, ontology, metaphysics,
but you find that such balancing acts require
a constant reminder of these words, and when
inserted into very long expression, there is no
prime balance with the words that i have not seen
expressed in any philosophy book i read,
whether it be heidegger, kant, kierkegaard,
sartre, nietzsche, tatarkiewicz, whoever -
none of them use grammatical words, nor have
produced an account of the dynamic when
deviating from standard lessons in grammar
which can be longwinded - and an absolute
dross; my english teacher didn't like to teach it,
in my two years under him we have less
than a dozen lessons, most concerned with
writing formal letters, and whether to end
the letter signing under either yours sincerely
or yours faithfully... the expectation was to
speak it fluently and mould the written language
from that - if it's comprehensible with the tongue,
it will be comprehensible with the quill.
but enough of that, i'm still adamant to stress
my censorship of dreaming, perhaps because
i just loathe freud and find jung quirky enough
with his religiosity and that book of his
about hallucinations and telekinesis like in that
film interstellar where the books fall from the shelf,
but it's primarily because there is a more important
subplot: today i woke up and remembered something
from 20 years ago, primary school, year 5 (aged 9),
our teacher called in sick and we were left to our
own devices, we were assigned the task of doing
long-division mathematics, and long-multiplication,
the whole class was in furore, but i just did the
****** task (fresh off the boat, you know, vito corleone
ambition and what not) - teacher's name ms. mcguire -
the teacher came back, scolded the whole class
excluding me - then she gave instructions to do the
assignment i did the previous day, and she told me
i could do whatever i wanted... just like the whole
class the previous day... so i read a book.
oh hell, if we're going that far back... pst... a secret,
on the gants hill roundabout there used to stand
a magnolia coloured cinema, the odeon...
i remember seeing armageddon there even though
a few hours prior i fell into a pseudo-epileptic fit
(a weird sensation in the head, crawling into the jaws,
i clenched my jaws, and then a spasm that travelled
into my stomach and started the convulsions and
the pain increased... i've had about three of these
in my life... for days on end after the last one,
i kept falling to sleep in fear... a fear of clenching my
teeth) - oh and the mummy, the little princess
(even though i bought a ticket for jumanji),
gladiator, lord of the rings fellowship of the ring
(about 3 times if not more), mission impossible,
the three kings when i broke one of the seats and
fell on my ***... but back then cinema tickets were
bearably affordable... not anymore... and it took
ages for the film to be available on vhs (when
blockbuster was still around - actually, there is one
left near the loughton central line station - a bit
back to the future for me; yeah, and valentines park
nearby where you could play 18 hole short-distance
golf, but that's also gone - now all you have is a block
of flats... just a massive vitro phallus.

By: Cedric McClester

Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks

For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft

From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well

Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history











Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.

.and what if the referendum was secured, by the single vote, if it was predicated on: only and only if, there's a 60% consensus... the current debate is taken place, because the consensus is, extremely marginal... we're talking about fringe politics, outlier political opinions... the the remain vote is argued with the same verocity as the leave vote... for the benefit of outlier opinions... if only there was a predicate: it will be passed... as long as there's a 10% difference between the votes... 51.9% for leave to 48.1% for remain, of the country having voted... if only the whole point of voting, was akin to the "ancient" enforced tactic of drafting men to serve in the army... 67.7% voting areas voting to leave... 32.3% voting to remain... yeah... the "obscure" parts of england... with scotland, clearly being an anomaly with regards to "obscure" rural regions... should the argument come: concentration of power, in urban babylons.

someone should, really, really try to remaster
that vague piece of work

                       that pristine rhythm
    section: notably on the song bite now bite
from the album
          eat your heart out -
                              by... a belgian band:
of all bands... it had to be, belgian...
  ******* choccies (KLINIK) -
   oh look, an intra-racial slur...
                                                     chocolatiers...
because what would be fun:
  if language was plain, safe,
                                                      in vitro:
and not the islam to the individual -
   whenever: i, am to submit,
                     to the language of the other?
well obviously malice is reserved
for something else, but not for breathing,
thinking or feeling,
   or for that matter:
     the "problem" of idle hands...
itchy hands...
               i guess some of the throng,
of the volk: chatter chatter chatter...
    bite... chew... but then forget to
swallow... (sow s-, s-, swo-, swo-...
'the **** an A charge in, eh?
                                     i guess, that's how).

but no one
likes to see
narrow
verse
likening it
to the Milan
fashion
show
catwalk

                               and all those poems
that look like this:

|begins here


               (no
      move-
                                 -ment
                 in
               between)


|ends here:

|zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
|zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
|zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
|­zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
|can anyone please tell me...
   why zee / zed:
              is a conotation
                        depicting the process of sleep?

and all this nonsense:
                   england is spelled with
a capital: who says it's anywhere but london?
E this, E that,
    E sat on a wall
       and...
                    didn't fall accidently...
i know a rat when i see one...
   Nigel, Nigel (see... capital N,
implies emphasis, like italics or a colon
does)
       Nigel... can you please bring back
your fwend, Dawid?
                     just a few questions...
2 and a half 'ears lay'ter...
   and... no end in sight...
to those loitering... shuffling their feet...
how many votes do you actually need...
when there was only one
                     for die volk
- and i have to admit...
       it was close...
                roughly                      51 to 49...
i know why they voted leave...
           because of the people who poured
in, most, probably momentarily
back in 2004...
                              the people who were
taught two, of 20th century's prime lessons,
by foreign entities...
               arbeit macht frei
               und?
                        communism.

         so no laid-back work ethic coming
with the windrush, was there?
                    conflict of interests...
**** it, if i were strapped to a caribbean
island, i'd have a laid back work ethic:
                             ka-reeb-ib-ean.

yet still this whole blah blah debate...
          like... let's forget the good friday
agreement...
   but finally...
            we can have the old terrorists back...
so...
            maybe the IRA will
                  out-compete the jihadis?
or at least scare them?
  or... dunno...
                                            ol' Jack...
ol' Jackie boy'o will: simply...        unravel?
am i rooting for it to happen?
no...
                            but it would suggest
that i'm rooting for being part of
                a historical event,
                            like the treaty of versailles...
or the weimar rep.,
                            and i was the voice
on the bottom,
               sifting through
                     eclectic ambitions to find:
culture that will never become
mainstream...
                                           almost
forever destined for the: archaic archive,
now forever the footstuff
                            of the gargantuan a.i.:
alternatively known as a.i.p.:
                   artificial intelligence purgatory.

- hey, i can't compete,
    i'm just a kid that forgot to bring
his crayons, and instead brought
   some matchsticks and toothpicks.

if only: 2 years prior to the referendum
they had a plan...
   but they thought they could do
a joker trick,
         so there you have it: agent of chaos...
agent of chaos says:
  people, 1 vote, politicians?
         an infinite number of votes by
the looks of it...
                  voting is not reserved
for the people, de facto,
                       given:
we now have a strange despot on our
hands... der volk...
                    what a strange monster...
was i leave or remain?
   neither, considering that i ended up
drinking to stay somewhat sane
for the past... oh... 10 years...
    on debit...
                well... why would i even
consider drinking into the excesses of
phantasmagoria              on credit?
that would be stupid, as stupid didn't.

in summary: to minor points...
    i can understand why people don't like
poetry...
                                                 porcelain...
or the fact that their everyday language
is already peppered with poetic techniques...
figuratively speaking...
                   akin to:
   where does the technique of poetry
end, and the comedy begin?
                     yeah, that: "not literally" part?

who would mind:
   it's not an elitist "thing" to like or dislike
a medium...
                 i like the "breathing" space in
the optics... of... the never to be seen
                              literary paragraph...
i like cascades...
                         paragraphs are sometimes
a strain on the eyes...
like watching really fast cars
zoom past you on a very small race-track...
**** just gets dizzy...

.......................................................­........ (click)
.........................................................­........ (click)
.........................................................­.......... (click) etc.

hence?
           well on the up-side...
once you've read some magnum opus...
say... the cantos...
    for some strange reason...
you can sit back, listen to some choccie
music from the underground...
open the book...
   and just stare at the poetry...
    without having to reread anything...
a bit like...
                  a painting...

                                    sure as **** you
can't do that with a novel,
      with its rigid, cluster-**** of a descriptive
paragraph: she said, he said,
then another descriptive paragraph:
he said, she said...

               as much as i love novels...
  give me a poetics of a framework of freedom,
or a philosophical monologue
    by some helmut
    (german) - oh look...
     another intra-racial slur...
    helmuty: germans...
                  derived from?
              helmut kohl -
                    german chancellor 1982 - 1998;

ah... what an enriching experience.

by the time malachi wrote of elijah's half, god split too, and then the embodiment happened on two roundabouts worth of twirl: god was a third's worth of christ's trinity talked about, recognising india in a symmetrical summery of applause for anglia's capital norwich - exchanged in overcoming autumn into similar wobbly within grasp - stornoway - to pinpoint an x for some lapsed tongue twirling less hollywood and more of the towing dimensional twins: diaper dipped innocent and sunk into welly fudge wet sludge slurps of onomatopoeias, exchanged to boot pivots for the weatherman handling insignia of coordination with a queen's lazed approach to care for the public's handy utility: shaken the plumber shaken the electrician, but gloved the hand ordinating trickles of tubular artery and sparks of the veiny rarity skidding into pressurised suicides named.*

as i said it once: by the time of malachi elijah was half of what jesus became,
a trinity of thirds; but by a polytheistic nitro of interests reincarnation
was not much for the oneness: with malachi in oath
to claim elijah in half, while jesus stole a prophet's book,
which endowed a testimony, such that much of the greek "god said"
was roman "let me ease into it and regurgitate."
so while malachi wrote of elijah's re-incarnation and spoke heresy on
the pulpit of polytheism for a crowd of monotheists
not allowing a seventh of the same pool draw
of sunken chlorine breathed as a matchstick sparked,
it was malachi so many years prior
anticipating the many gods ridiculed by a singled out earth,
while jesus stole isaiah's book and hiding it near the dead sea,
and having his own testimony
of being integrated into egyptian alimony
sold and paired revealing the sorrowful desert winds that the desert
in toadish engulfed the nearby architecture. so i tell you: jesus stole isaiah's testimony,
was crucified for it, because within the penta- framework moses wrote
like a true outsider - and we prefer narcissists holding a mirror rather
than gripping a nail to a placard of steadied wood of ennobling statues
of geometrics. why then the many narcissist messiahs empowered by posing
into a polaroid fake and the lost oedipus plural theorised?
once malachi came with the heresy elijah was halved with god,
and once jesus came and the people began deciphering babylonian madness
so that the hanging gardens were architecturally sound
and the pyramids were proven higher than the eiffel:
without a sweaty wrinkles' river taken aqua vivo, we thus conversed.
elijah was a third in the form of jesus who begat one as a trinity
to further the heresy of malachi.

Receding back to my usual corner
only passing time til I'm introduced to my coroner
attempting to inject fine knowledge into semantic memory
when a sudden wave of parinoier washes over the scenery

Unfortunately having drank all this coffee
with enough caffeine to **** the energizer bunny
my parched throat compels a leathery thirst
so I take another sip and act as the hearse
but as I'm throwing the soiled cup away
the coffee didn't quite go the way
...I had planed

As I begin coughing out loud in quiet public spaces
a disastrous look comes from their squinted little faces
as if they've been trapped and caged liked vermin
too long is some building deemed antiquarian

attempting assertion over upcoming coercions
I must admit I'm rather enjoying this
disrupting there gathering of information
with my uncontrolled vocal insertions

but enough with my cynical social actions
I must return to my work with which I have no passion
and because I've become bored with rereading these lines
I must retire to my higher cognitive confines

It must be something else, maybe from the outside,
Apathy in vitro, there's no way it came from inside,

Maybe from a test tube, or maybe a special cask,
There's no way to explain it, an impossible task,

The care I have for anything, is almost to zero,
My only wish is not to feel, maybe I need a hero,

If a car comes barreling at me, I wouldn't be moved,
that concerned voice inside of me, has been removed,

If anything happens to me, you can be all too sure,
I probably deserved it, my worthlessness has no cure,

A small place in hell, reserved just for me,
I'm just an empty shell, don't even want to flee.

God waited for Abraham's arm to be actually starting down, the biceps fully tensed.

Nothing short would do; in extremity, we learn what's true.

With a good job, a good marriage, a fine son, I had everything one could expect.  
And yet there was a lingering dissatisfaction; a malaise.
It seemed, deep down, that I didn't really feel or believe in anything.

.........                                             ­                                 
On Saturday morning, August 11, 1990, my three-year-old son and I rounded the corner at the south end of the block where we live.  We were out for a walk.  (He had been born through in-vitro fertilization, everything else had failed -- including several previous in-vitro attempts.)  He was riding his tricycle -- it's amazing how fast a three-year-old can go on a tricycle with big wheels. . . .  The house next to the corner had tall bushes growing right out to the sidewalk.  As we passed the house, my son speeded up.  My attention was diverted to men working across the street trimming trees.  Their chainsaws drowned out the sound of a car backing out of the driveway next to the house with the bushes.  The car was moving slowly and I can see in the slowest of slow motion -- I screamed, but I'm not sure just when (there's no sound track to this movie) -- the car backing into the left handlebar of the tricycle, tilting it over to the right, my son breaking his fall with his right hand.   (As low to the ground as he and the tricycle were, they could not be visible in the driver's rearview mirror at this point.)  And, then, the car stopping.  Did the car stop because of my scream?  Or had the old man driving the car seen my son at the last second before he disappeared behind the car?
.......

I learned instantly with the terrible weight of that tire inches from my son's head, that I wanted with a giant, horrible wanting for this boy to grow up healthy and to have children of his own who would, in turn, have children of their own, and that having my wife hate me for losing him would be unbearable.

All the unfairnesses I had suffered in life -- ALL of them --
instantly became meaningless. Everything was clear.
This is what I wanted; this is what I believed.

any reading of a philosophy book, outside of university, is mapped without the sort of strategy to receive a grade, for a "correct" interpretation (rather a regurgitation) of said work (mentioned below); to say it in simpler terms: i do not ever think that understanding a concept - in concreto - is worth some sort of "passing on the genes" (memes) of one individual to another - given that a meme has become pop culture, and as the french would put it:
        ce crasse et petit irritante chiotte valeur de merde
                                                                ­                        (i.e. un cliché) -
truly written like and englishman -
   a meme is that crass and small irritant bog's worth of ****
                                                            ­                                           ( " ),
   at least that's peckham french, del boy french,
                         i was well informed about this french dialect.

- and to even "think" why there are so many blue
indians, and so few piggies; perhaps it boils down
to the fact that the blue indians believe in
   burial within fire, rather than earth,
  and they prefer to surround themselves with the living,
rather than with the dead; and piggies do,
  graveyard upon graveyard,
    and that constant "nostalgia", idol-worship
of the past, where nothing greater can come again;
for those who surround themselves with the living,
their existence rages akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial... but for those who surround
themselves with the dead,
   their existences decompases akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial, a heart-broken: nightmarish
earth. -

for some reason, i always get these
"revelations" (for lack of a better word) -
as one might receive a signature
of a thunderstorm in the form of
lightning upon the sky -
           and it usually predicated by
listening to a few pop songs -
   and then listening to the
    *cantos of templar knights -
            but then again, you sometimes
really need extremes,
     as the canadian sayings goes -
we only have two seasons,
    one's winter, the other is construction.

but this is about technicalities,
one could even cite the following as
the part of any contract, the terms & conditions
written in the smallest possible print,
   lodged in hardbacks worth over 30 quid -
not your cheap bestseller paperbacks -
   those too could be appreciated,
   but akin to pressure to keep a worth's of
expression in sanctum of a hardback?
   take the year 1996 for the cantos 1st
on toilet-paper (paperback) - but in brick?
take the year 1970...
  and where do the technicalities come in?

   - heidegger's ponderings V, aphorism 41 -
technicalities akin to the rules of
a game of cricket, or at least the pointing system.

but count it nonetheless, half an hour to scroll...
12,700+... till i got to april the 8th
  and resurrect a memory?

.  ע   ‎
יהוה ‎‎‎
א‎
                  sighs from on high...
      and laughter into the depths.

let us just say, that digital is
the new hardback edition -
    to condense my works into toilet-paper
till take more years and more pushy-pushy
tactics, to transform
     a hardback into something affordable...
but in reverse...
               what comical inversion,
   30 years will become 300 years to come
  about for someone to wipe-their-***-to-mouth
fathom of what went on at the genesis
of the birth of the internet,
   in some obscure location,
                  like a catholic school in england.

now the germanic pilot-plotline (regarding
aphorism 41, ponderings V):

    promo enigma-alchimia in vivo lingua,
             anti ipse (dixit) in lingua vitro.

(we're not in posh-boy grammar school,
the language is dead, it's become play-dough,
a malagrammaton-monœgo:
for a man's tongue is to his befitting desire
to state the terms of play).

da / ein-da / die-da          vs.                hier   vs.
                                      die-hier / ein-da

( there / a there / the there        vs.
                                                ­                 here    vs.
  the here / a there    -
                                
                               ­ atheistic scissors of
definite/indefinite articles/articulation of
    what's near, and what's far away,
     the dualistic-dichotomy of here&there,
  then&now...
           as far as i am concerned i cannot narrate
this akin to a vampire romance page-turner
bestseller... too many organic chemistry diagrams
concerning electron migration, sorry) -

   but given the "blank" slate genesis, starting
with articles... they go beyond being categorised
as definite or indefinite...
    namely... am i, or can i be assured that
      there's no X variations?
    i.e.
                da     ein da
                      X
       die hier     hier            ???????????????

               isn't ein hier merely "being"?
imagine being forced into a there -
                  without being the there,
akin to a zeitgeist, akin less!
      zeitgeist = a there (communism),
  but the there? that's what hegel
said of napoleon entering jena:
       "das ist ein weltgeist!" (capitalism).

and who are the anglophones?
  i cannot respect these "peoples" -
they constantly stutter when it comes to
  their lack of diacritical application,
they stutter... i might as well call them
the strabismus race...
    and if darwinism is to be the vector-catalyst
(hollywood was thrashing american cities
for decades, what damage could this
observation could possibly do?) -
  if darwinism is to be the prime historian,
that darwinism replaces actual history
and becomes neither in vitro, nor in vivo,
but in situ? why do scientists wonder why
universities are undermined in their
humanities, when scientific populism of
biology (i.e. darwinism) has undermined
papa historia? am i... missing something?!
     if you undermine a credible study within
the humanities with enough darwnism?
what do you get? inertia...
     you can burn crosses, but you can also
burn an image of a monkey into a man's mind,
the same result occurs!
      personally, i'd rather burn crosses,
i might end up drinking beer and joking with
a few skin-heads around an unsual campfire.

the other side just... "debates" loud-mouth
******* who haven't learned the gymnastics
of looking up those grandiose black-holes
of blah blah.... blah blah blah... blah...
     i'd like to ask them... does your **** of talk
ooze a perfume of.... strawberries?
   and the punk-fist fields... forever! ooh...
****** *******' salsa! shwing yir hips
ya bunch of conclaves (p.j.w.) - privacy
                     justice warriors).

        taoist's foregetfulness

grounded in maxim primus -
  to allow the world a breath, allow the world
to let you breathe as you deem fit,
   never too soon to be bound to genealogy,
esp. that of the genesis bound to
the new testament -
  for if the old testament begins with poetry,
and if truly metaphorically chained,
then how pitiful is the genesis of
the new testament, which begins with
  something as sorrowful as the nadir
of greek culture, the expired logos,
   a genealogy, with the greeks ransacking
the jews under roman rule,
  just like the ransacking of constantinople
by the venetians in 1204 (4th crusade)...
who'd start a "holy" book without poetry,
but a ******* geneaology?!
          no wonder poetry these days isn't
a rare appreciation...
    but cheap and as tsunami natured
   in its "production" as tabloid press,
  toothbrushes, toilet paper,
                        toothpicks, among other
                                               paraphernalia;
the new testament is such a massive turn-off...
if you don't begin with poetry,
esp. that of metaphor translated into imagery,
and instead begin with a branch of logic
that the new testament begins with, i.e.
genealogy... and then expect latter poetics
in the text to be taken literally?!
          clue the keen me into the clamours
of the poly-schismatic version of events...
    sure, christianity is a "polytheism",
                           in that it's poly-schismatic.

and of the garden, should adam have approached
first, as he would have done in asia -
         he would have talked with
the serpent sæwelō -
           perhaps that same serpent of
   caucasus - first, to have a thirst of
knowledge tamed - although never really -
  for the serpent sæwelō would have
tempted adam: eat of this tree, its fruit,
  and your thirst for knowledge will be
forever satiated!
   so said the serpent of order
   so said sæwelō (ᛋ), the sun-snake...
the serpent of illumination -
                            the golden serpent.
and so adam bit into the fruit,
   and such thirst as never before filled him,
a thirst for knowledge that hasn't
as of yet seized -
     for the fruit, which adam imagined
would be sweet - was actually filled with salt.

  and we are initiated into the myth
of how the other scenario took place with regards
to a woman approaching the serpent first,
       yes?
                and for the woman, the serpent
of chaos, known as ansuz (ᚨ) - the siamese -
who said both truth and lie simulatenously
  also known as the god who's name begins with
yod, in the roman tongue (Y),
                          and he said:
  you will know the difference between
good and evil -
    ah indeed he said so, but that said, it would
imply acts being simulatenously both,
rather than either / or -
he continued: you'll be like the æsir (gods)!
      knowing such distinctions,
                   and will know the meaning of fate,
and justice, and due recompense!

as etymological mutations occur,
   and translations into other tongues
go, let's begin with:

sieg heil - old english - sigel - hail sun!
       if ever a führer (the few, the rarer),
                        so too the sun's eclipse -
   louis xiv wouldn't have minded,
    but at least he ****** to his
         cockerel's content to praise sunrise -
but as it stands, an etymological
           "mutation" in translation: hail sun!

-------------------------- p.s. p.p.s. p.p.p.s. p.p.p.p.s.
    f(p.s.) ad infinitum: borrowing from
mathematics, i.e. f(x) - heidegger
invented the algebra of writing in a certain style
that's only worth a neurotic / autistic pedant's
worth of bother...

   let's just say, in terms of style,
                                        it's purely hellish,
   you can only go as far with a text
when the variations
  range from dasein, to da-sein
   to da-sein to da-sein (i.e. da-ßein) -
    to whatever else is enclosed in the book...
i haven't got the time to write
an expansion of these milimetres
            and a litre of *** waiting for me...

   inverse stress on being
              detached from a "there": da-ßein:

   with regard to the world and its being
   constituting beings (heidegger's style
of expression, i know, can be a muddle)...

all i wanted was an antonym:
   rather than the world and its there,
   i wanted the world and its nowhere,
or rather, a pure form of being: a here,
      being detached from beings,
   the infinite dance of "solipsism",
    mono-direct articulation /
   plural-direct articulation (a march) /
mono-indirect articulation (a thought) /
plural-indirect articulation (a commute home)...

in terms of dictionary ref. to oppose da (there):

ist da - is here
                hier - here
komm her! - come here!
           hier & da - here & there
                  auf der stelle - here & now

stelle:
       schnellen - quickly
   schwellen (ich bin) - i am swelling
schelle - bell
   bruchstelle - break

                            da-ßien = hiersien

i.e. stressor on being,
             which morphs into a reconstruction
of the original equation:

     i.e. "da"-ßien = hier-"sien" ≠ nichtsein...

    and the point being?
    the simple f(x) translation into philosophical
jargon... f(p.s.) ad infinitum...
                      this had to run into a cul de sac
at some point, given all the technicalities
and stylistic disparities between existentialists,
if any remained to live into the 21st century...
but the buggers ****** off
              let's just say the new wave
of concerning italics remains the still
unexplored territory of missing diacritical marks
in the english language...
    as much can be said about writing
            chair    as can be said about
   writing                  krzesło...
           (yes, a consonant grapheme, err-zed)...
funny, in grapheme terms...
   that the german grapheme ß
  never became a replacement of -sch-
     in english -sh- in slavic -sz-,
             seems to be more t'ss... wet snare...
          another example?
    (choo-choo) train / pociąg -
  and yes, that's not implying choo-choo,
   since it's obvious, the verb ćwiczyć:
to train.

.i get it now, the more i make it a detention hour writing lines: doing dull work, makes sam a bored boy... intra-racial variant of slur qua intimacy, in-group standard... take any "n" word "extra g" word "thingy" among the non-exported examples, non-NBA privileged, say... in Kenya... friends? **** no... feeling intimate? huh? like i said... watching 2 hours of a washing machine cycle, is probably more entertaining, than, seeing, the cages, the - - - - - morse breaks in... so... everyone is being a ******* ******, creating a natural response to a river, that must become a reservoir / fake lake? whatever etiquette equated to politeness comes from this... no wonder we'll be doing it from spite... rather than a genuine sediment of genuine feeling, flight of the heart & and all the fickle thoughts that go with it.

please, please, put me into handcuffs
for ******* in an alleyway,
the english sort of handcuffs,
the ones where they can't handcuff
you from behind,
   because the cuffs are not connected
by a mandible chain,
but a rigid middle,
implying that you have to be handcuffed
with your hands in-front...
which also implies:
   well... if **** turned ugly...
i could just wrap my hands around
a boppy's neck and just turn into
a boa...
     but that other police officer was
nice, turning the police van cell
into a taxi...
   racial slurs...
   intra-racial, or inter-racial?
  big difference...
            inter-racial slurs,
namely an english derivative:
the empire britannia rule the waves
what not?
   crass...
      not too... genius...
no real outlet phonetically...
  the language is too soft as it is...
i met one german at university
who complimented the ****** tongue
with that one general-****-over
word for everything -
conjunction, was the word,
the word is treated as a conjunction:
kurwa...
        i once dated a french psychology
major two years my senior
who i lost my virginity to,
who, let's say, enlightened me...
she was looking for native english speakers,
she told me the most fascinating
fact...
        the fwench used to attach
a trill to the R...
   before they started harking up
an R like phlegm when smoking too much
or down with the flu...
inter-racial slurs are... yawn...
   who gives a **** about walking
on egg-shells...
   i'm watching a ******* football match
or swan lake with 22 *******
                                       pansies?
everyone's suddenly going to be
     as sensitive as a fwench footballer?
****: french / fwench...
  it pretty much sounds the same...
the fwench speak one language,
the french write the same one language...
but the german complimented
a language for the: pristine outlet
of frustration of... tongue licking
a metaphysical punching bag...
but inter-racial slurs are crass,
for the simple fact that...
          they're just too plain in sight...
there is no intimate history of
a people...
   me? personally?
   i'd love to know what the african
royalty called would-be slaves
picked up by western europeans
for export...
   it's not like these colonialists run
these colonized countries freely,
without collusion with the african ruling class...
there was an african ruling class,
there is an african ruling class,
     what's to be exactly changed?
lost in translation:
    former soviet states people /
  but not the satellites?
   kacap...
   from the song husaria by bujak?
ahem...
     muscovite gałgan...
never heard that one before...
   gałgan...
   i once dated a girl from st. petersburg
that summarißed my mutterzunge
        as a crackling of radio static...
just as the english say:
of a people, with, "too many" consonants
in their surnames...
   ask a ****** about hindu surnames...
i mean: intra-racial slurs...
a movement toward real intimacy
of the use of language...
e.g. in england:
    northern monkeys,
southern fairies...
      and the rest? eurotrash...
       i once heard a intra-racial slur
about the english -
                  angol to pedzio...
and then back to cosmopolitan english...
the "n" word... night? nightmare,
nigh?
                oh... the n- word?
if only i could find some malice in
the context of use...
yes, i know the content of the word,
the content of historical usage...
    and now the whole intra-racial
comradery... inclusion...
familiarity...
                a joke of latin...
   to me that's like saying
              Nigeria...
  and then thinking:
         so... it's not the "n" word,
is it? it's the "extra g" word?
better start writing giggle with an optional
   gig(g)le:
   which could become problematic
when it came to a double omicron:
to go, among the goo...
the intra-rascial slur for a german
east of berlin?
          švab...
     funny that... the saxons are
not actually minded...
  the anglo-saxons (intra-racial
mix of celt and saxon)
             as we see them today...
but... when the teutonic order came
to the area around Danzig
     and further east to Königsberg...
further... to Riga...
         a Prussian isn't a German...
              die Preußen ist: Preuße;
  now?
   the Preußen have been reintegrated
into a dialect of Polen...
        kashubian: or at least,
        that's                     sort-of...
ultra-nationalist "sentiments":
   in "exile"...
          i love that, brushing aside
any economic migrant in favor
for the immediate migrant
   of conflict, or political asylum...
you know...
   economics: is a type of war,
                                 in slow-motion...
it's a peaceful war,
   well... ergo it's a "war"...
              and the economic migrants?
disorientated *******...
who can't exactly fully assimilate
to the expectation of the natives...
i.e. speak our language in public,
and our language in private...
  no... no thank you...
         it would be easier to remove
a tattoo with a shark-bite
and a scar than to remove my
                                   mutterzunge...
and here i am... "worried"
about the N in the word trigger...
or the "missing G" in the word: Nigeria...
like... ******* pandering
        to a panda in a Beijing zoo...
now comes the malice...
thought-prison, metaphorical dyslexia
and tattoos of grafitti on
bypass highways...
   like dirt behind my fingernails...
looking for gold nuggets
picking my nose...
   as harold norse once stated
in his memoir (of a ******* angel):
a sign of a Brooklyn intellectual...
   but i just have to point this out...
LGBTQIA...
   nice acronym...
but you're missing two letters...
**** me... if mr and mrs H
  are not included...
LGBTQIA is missing two protected
groups...
     mr P and mr N...
LGBTQIAPN...
    the ******* and
the necrophiliac...
                                    no?
   they'd fit right in...
        no? they wouldn't?
weren't we talking deviance,
             per se?
so...
          those two outer-outliers
    are legit. rainbow deviances...
no? at least mr P can have some sort
of a religious backing...
whether in the desert slap-stick
ninja sketch and satan's postbox...
or at least, back of the queue of a choir,
and some boy...
   but that's the scary bit,
isn't it?
            mr N... now...
                that's... some would claim
it to be art... or what the hell became
of eddie gein in american mainstream
culture...
                  ****... forgot ms B+...
   i do remember seeing internet
in its youth,
                   rotten . com,
            and the earliest edgy ****...
now... not even a black guy can
leave adequate compensation...
   for what... began as a saddle,
reins and stirrups...
          and became:
   a demonic hybrid knock-knock-knocking
on Gomorrah's door...
fastforward...
men on stag outings before
being shackled by the ring...
inflateable sheep
   and granny dolls...
          oh yeah: i'm a real moralist
at this point...
                    what i do find scary
is that whenever i'm confined
to a waiting room, a confined space...
and there's a child with its parent
present... there's an animal...
   there's a very old man with
a middle aged mentally ill daughter...
i'm suddenly likeable...
a curiosity...
        just like today...
  her dad is nearing 75...
      she's unkept... greasy hair...
                  rags, rather than clothes...
and in the corner of my eye...
she just couldn't stop glaring at me...
i'm sweating like i'm the sort of hell
where i'm supposed to **** her...
or go to her pajamas sleep-over party
if the case was: she was sixteen
and i was eight...
                        as i went into
the doctor's appointment
    and recounted my 2 week psychotic
episode of being strapped
to the bed... in a quasi-paralysis...
citing metaphors of p.t.s.d.,
                   not talking a word for
2 weeks, only because i received
a ******* questionnaire from
the dept. of work & pensions...
   'am i a fraud? am i?'
   between 48 hour periods...
i'd chance 2 hours of sleep...
     the usual questions...
suicidal thoughts, hallucinations?
   no... the 1st episode, yeah...
but now? it's just debilitating,
quasi-paralysis...
                  nice doctor... plump...
beauty of a doughnut...
          and doughnuts are beautiful...
esp. if you throw them into a lake,
and they float,
  and then you watch the ducks
                  and the swans swarm it...
if i lied: i should be contending
for an oscar...
          then she measured my blood-pressure...
first instrument failed...
the arm-band was too small...
the air was pumped into the band
around my hand:
    arm-band snapped
  of the blood-pressure measuring tool...
so she had to resort to
the old method of using
the stethoscope and a bigger arm-band...
i guess she knew she was
dealing with a scared / agitated
animal...
   that just so happened to talk
                  some words in human;
a wounded animal,
is hardly scared / agitated...
a wounded animal,
   is whatever implies...
being elevated to a status
that transcends the wound...
the doctors came too late,
i'm fidding with letters
    like jigsaw...
  i'm fiddling with the then
larger jigsaw of words...
   and the whole point of the picture
will only arrive,
post office stamp and all...
akin to a postmortem:
  that part of life...
where...
   eh? how would you classify
man...
          pork, beef, game,
poultry, fish?
    all... none of the stated?
that's almost funny...
   HOW WOULD YOU CLASSIFY
MAN IN THE "CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE"
of said classes of edible meats?
am i pork?
   no... am i beef? no...
veal? no...
         well, we already know
that some examples of meat
are actually vegetables:
   brain damage, coma...
like:
   do you bite into a tomato...
"thinking" it's a fruit...
or a veg.?
         "logic" supposes
that a tomato is a fruit...
common sense?
     it's a ******* vegetable!
post-racism...
   what sort of meat is man?
eh... bewildering...
   i guess we can only find
an answer, in China...
  should we ever send
a pet dog & its owner to
some obscure, countryside,
small town, famine riddled
(or straight to Kiev) place...
sorry...
******* a black doesn't make
me "less", "racist"...
i might as well imitate
a colonial overlord by the act...
seriously...
english, these days?
watching a ******* washing-machine
is less confusing that
walking on egg-shells in
this tongue...
currently, available...
so let's forget, black, or white...
you beef?
   you crab meat?
       you lamb?
   (slippery *****
of salivating sounds):
what are you?
       it's called:
  SEEING PAST THE COLOUR...
so...
     what's the meat worth?
is chimp meat the same
as human meat?
   no, wait...
that gorilla grew big-*******
eating shrubs?
anomaly of human
dietary requirements...
a horse became so big...
only eating... grass...
      yeah... no anomaly...
and then my brain starts to short-circuit...
past the colour,
infancy of discrimination...
how would to categorise
the "body" of christ
if no bread was available?
beef? pork? veal?
fish?
      i already know what
the ****** would be...
   sure as **** it wouldn't be
*****'s liquor worth of wine...
i went straight to the beast
of the wheat...
    and i called her...
        ms. amber...
                 and... maybe i just didn't
like the wrap-up of rap
because of the lyrics and
my unrelateable tendency
to never **** the bid-bop head...
of the music per se,
but the lyrics?
      sure... the music is great...
but the lyrics?
     i can't relate to them...
i need, something,
mythological and obscure...
a time-wrap not minding a grief
                 of / from yesterday...
mind you: i'll write this,
as i'll drink whatever is left,
and tomorrow...
            is a tomorrow without
this current zenith of the hours...
come beethoven thinking
of tux in the variant of rigid
geometry in the form of music...
           like when sartre plagiarised
joyce at the end of iron in the soul?
- that's the next tier of "racism"...
    as far as i am concerned...
it would be nice to re-evauluate
my position
    on the libra of being
reengaged in a food-chain
hierarchy...
                  cancer is a primitive
pseudo-vitro-forma...
    great... eaten by parasites...
germs... etc.,
  guess what...
   at least a lion is beautiful...
i'd rather be eaten by a lion
than a ******* tapeworm...
so what am i?
              beef?
                     ****...
       first i'd have to put monkey
on the menu...
to tease at the taboo
     of teasing the cannibal
    while performing oral ***.

The Joy of Ultrasound!

Drink a lot my dear they said.
As fluid made a picture.
Hazy imagery.
Heaven's own creation.
Echoes bounced, as picture back.
Beautiful image as yet unborn.

Sitting in a darkened room.
Seeing normal limbs.
Marked out four chambers.
Cordant
Brimmed with love.
Infiltrated full with blood.
Organs not of music.
Silent as in-vitro.

Visualised a photograph.
Captured on the screen.
Un petit-fils enroute.
Ma fille elle-même une petite fille.
Life anew.
Enters my world.
Due on the 4th of April!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Brian Molko was already doing the current wannabe-trend of trans-sexuality long before trans-sexuality was a common "thing"... tracing back some ulterior taboo settings... today on my way to work i spotted my first trans-******: wow! obviously he had manly hands... large... he was tall... he had large feet... but slender legs... and a face, with all that necessary make-up of eyeliner... hair? not very long... shoulder length... yes... a deep voice... but then again my godmother has a husky voice from all the smoking and drinking... but i fancied him... the dynamic on the tube was magnifying... three women sat beside him while he was talking to his geeky (maybe, probably) boyfriend, a plump chap with eyeglasses... i couldn't stop thinking: ah... the solidarity of men... when in shortage of supply of women, men will find alternative avenues to compensate for women, men will find women in men... the idea that i might be a transphobe never occurred to me: but it did occur to me that women: for all their supposed glorification of acceptance would never allow men to be attracted to men who are: beyond merely the thespian gay-lord, *******... ally... this... "freak"... i fancied this man... i could omit all the stressed "imperfections"... but such a feminine-feline face... it really suited him... i wanted to kiss him... i was thinking... i'll tend to the "oysters" and all the tender bits and bites of being with him... andd do the butcher's work with a *******... problem solved... this skin-head middle-aged (i'm coming to middle age, or life expectancy, not the lottery of mortality, mind you) sat next to me and was sort of nudging me with a shadow missing in the full-glare of the lights of the tube... you fancy him? insinuations via body-language: yeah... i do... is it wrong? nope! check the women sitting next to him... do you fancy them? nope... me too... of the three or four women sitting next to this trans-****** specimen... none had a lovelier face... mutations just... "happen"... the eureka-oops moments... i could seriously forget about the shared dimensions of large hands twice as big as that of a geisha, same with the feet... i could forget the baritone voice... i really fancied this boy... in a way that gay-lords just make it difficult having mingled with actors too much and not retaining an aura of: suspense and: something in me is frigid, alien... i shouldn't but... hell... i really should! i will! benevolent London that is... he was prettier than all the women i saw that day... like my grandfather once said: there are no ugly women... there are only abandoned... if not abandoned then neglected women... to think that women could ever be neglected: says as much about neglected men... men will find alternative avenues to women when the women self-exfoliate in their "privilege" of: first-come-first-served-and-thus-the-only-served menu... **** that! but what was special about this trans-****** specimen? it reminded me of the time i fancied Brian Molko, still do... in a non-gay sort of way... in a Plato the Plumber there's a blocked toilet of reincarnation afloat... it was actually, sort-of, actually-sort-of-funny watching the women on the same carriage trying to read my reaction... for once a man was more attractive than a woman to me! wow! being accused of trans-phobia... in London? well... only if you can't pull it off! it's like saying: coulrophobia! fear of clowns! with the clowns being without make-up? conflating the Apex Twin gargoyle from Window-Licker?! yeah... scary ****! the grin that's the length of the equator... i couldn't be attracted to a standard homosexual... Thespian leeching or intellectually pleasing akin to a Douglas Murray... or body-building blah blah... but this trans-****** specimen? that's an affront to a woman... all women... a man can have a prettier face to a woman's if... a man deems the exampled woman to be nothing more than akin to a lineage of... never arrived at cosmopolitanism... beetroot countryside proud... all red and irritated... i fancied this one... i was one step away from askig him: can i have your number? again, to reiterate: i didn't mind the deep voice... i didn't mind the size of hands that could match mine or the size of feet that could match mine... i was... infatuated with the magic dust of PIXIES! maybe that's what i learned from going to the brothel... but if you're going to play the trans-****** game... can you please avoid the mishandling of the Hippocratic oath... so little is actually necessary to accomplish a ****-heterosexual confusion-attraction that leaves women feeling inadequate: you, wouldn't even want to begin to believe! i'm now currently thinking of that film: the Odd Couple... Walter Matthau as Oscar Madison and Jack Lemmon as Felix Unger... Felix being the male-feminine counterpart of the feminine-man slob child pampered to: or however this quadratic works... i wouldn't be doing the cleaning and the cooking out of a feminine dignity to avoid doing the hard work of society's demands... no... i'd be perfecting my cooking to match up to the sort of food available upon heading out to a restaurant, i.e. not eating out... i've seen some car-crashes of trans-****** attempts... but this one stuck out for me because i started to think along the lines of: who needs women if men can appear prettier than women?! i'll just close my eyes when hand meets hand... it's a sickly sweet sensation but i could stomach it: if the conversation was kept to a satisfying lubrication: and it wouldn't be even remotely associated to the feminist-gay "commonwealth"... alliance... i don't need homosexuals to tell me XY&Z... i'm actually grooving this trans-****** trend: if spotting the exacting specimen to curtail all the wannabes... if there's an authentic Brian Molko specimen walking around... wow! reimagining being *** starved on the Western Front... a few guys with more artistic inclinations... rather than the rough sea-faring roughage of **** on the spot job done become involved... prettier faces than those of women... i could: no! i would succumb! it's just the terror in the eyes and on the faces of women... hey presto! a stick has two ends! freeze eggs... follow a career... demand a car a mortgage blah blah... my my... what a curiosity this trans-****** worked up to a perfection specimen of disphoria awoke in me... good enough cushioning blanket of sleeping with enough prostitutes... now i really want to sleep with a man... which is not gay... i'm bored of prostitutes... they're like any other woman: you pay them... yet they still complain as if you haven't paid them when not getting a hard-on because of (x) tiredness, (**) distraction, (***) life... per se... whatever... but those female faces... i pretended to be snoozing... they knew i knew... i kept an itch of a blink at this specimen... woman: ANGRY... no... actually... not angry... woman... what the **** is going on? of the times i went to a gay club and didn't pick up a Francis Bacon i wondered: did i drink enough? homosexual lust and all that same-for-same feminine-pro erotica of the jealous stone-rub-stone-offensive... the trans-****** "confusion" is a bright light... if done properly... done... naturally... i'm mesmerised... without... obviously... without... people succumbing to the breaking of the Hippocratic-oath... obviously... i despise the gay-pride movement... at least the authentic trans-sexuality movement is subtle... it's philosophically laden with a curiosity of more lips and less **** stressing fist-*******... this morphing of the pareidolia toward: seeing a female in a man's face... or seeing a man in a woman's face... hardly gender dysphoria... *****-utopia and... just as children look alike, regardless of ***... so do old people... also regardless of ***... but to achieve a heterosexual attraction in the realm of trans-genderism? it can't be forced... it has to happen ha-ha-naturally! i'm laughing at myself... only briefly... i'm more inclined to see the female in a man without seeing the homosexual... because homosexuality is like that quote from... no... not Human Traffic... about being gay and eating *****... how... eating ***** is not for real men... while ******* **** is all All Spice Alles Mensch... whatever... the gays are too proud might as well look out for the shy, proper, proper shy... trans-sexuals without any anti-Hippocratic-Oath mishandling(s)... the women become jittery thus...

i should have come home and reflected on spending
the past several hours on a shift
in Bishop's Park, overlooking Putney Bridge
watching the tide of Thames' recede back into the great
mouth before mingling with the salty waters
of the North Sea...
     all loved-up with the cold the dark and the wind
putting on some Woljiech Kilar soundtrack music
from Dracula - love remembered...
well... i was in the mood for something like that:
i put the track on... nope... can't feel it...
i'm tired, i'm cold i need to put on something to groove
to... we ain't going out like that - Cypress Hill...
tiredness swells the imitation pigeon-strut
in my head... bouncy-Billy will also ask for a chance
to express himself...
    the joke ran with Martin's team (Chelsea)
losing for the first time since 2006 to Fulham...
         the police officers were in a good number...
they even brought their horses...
two stood across from us when the final whistle was
blown... one of them started "laughing": if that's
what horses do, i.e. laugh...
no onomatopoeia here: hey Martin! even the horses
are laughing that Fulham beat Chelsea in the most
local derby of London...
    Craven Cottage is what? a mile at max two from
Stamford Bridge...
          one can only love the ever infuriated Martin...
but still the Thames receding...
   at first glace i might have stretched across
the balustrade and probably touched the surface of
the water... by the end of the shift when the river-bed
started to be exposed i started to wonder:
all that volume and now apparent air where once
there was water...
  no river in the world akin to the Thames...
tide in and tide out... at Westminster it's a river
that rid itself of the kettle and is nonetheless standstill
and boiling - during the day...
while eating a chicken wrap of torsos and tortillas
talking to a Norwegian who came over to watch
the football for the week...
last time he was here in the 1980s... have things changed?
the oyster one-touch travel card...
sure... it has just become a little bit more expensive:
but nothing has changed that much...
but during the night, and if its windy... well: clearly
there's a flow... a tide in or a tide out...
by the time i got to Goodmayes i walked past the brothel:
thank god i have nothing more to prove
thank god i have satiated my base needs and that's that...
what am i looking for? a compliment to a pharma-knock-out
of generic painkillers in the form of a bottle
of whiskey...
    too tired to **** not tired enough to think:
maybe i could fall in love again...
   fall in love... fall in love: but... ugh...
               fall in love and not pamper a woman's needs
with all those basic "tattoos" of courtship...
i might as well ask any future father-in-law:
so... where's my cow, my wedding dowry?
                     where's the pick-me-up to work with?
well if manna from heaven will not drop into my lap...
i hardly think... who the hell needs a car in London?
given the oncoming ULEZ restrictions?
bicycle, underground and the trains, plenty of buses...

today i was sent the most odd message from a coworker
who i am supposed to do a shift at the ice rink
on Sunday...
i was rather surprised - a "box" i never thought i would
unbox (as it were)...
i'll be honest... she's damaged - seriously damaged:
i'm on the "top" of the pile of damaged goods...
a mythological schizoid - ageing - each year turns
out easier as the madness spreads around me:
madness or the crushing mundaneness -
mundaneness or mediocrity -
    in a democracy it's all and the same: in the grey yolk
of bureaucracy -
         pushing letters through keyholes that leave
no door open: unless playing the "system" like
a criminal or a mummy with five different shades
of children from five different fathers...

                       the trouble with Russian girls is that...
they don't like a boy who appreciates music by Placebo...
huge disagreement... her take on Nancy Boy was
rigid and could never be biding: no appreciation of the music
for you... well... that be that...

this girl is hurt... i am hurt: everyone's hurt...
but i still find reasons to find silly happiness in cooking
cleaning, general groundwork labour of changing
the garden - some carpentry: cycling...
keeping up appearances of a well-kept diet
and perfumery of all sorts... at least dressing like
my idol Karl Lagerfeld... like an animal wears its fur...

she even changed her name to Frankie -
Frankie... i.e. is that Franklin, Frank?
no... it's actually Francesca...
the running joke with another girl i work with
runs along the line:
wouldn't that be something, to put on your CV
if you managed to convert her?
convert? or reconvert?
after all she has managed to produce offspring...
god knows why she's not in contact with her daughter...
but it's not like she was always a lesbian...
forced lesbian... it's not something a priori:
it's a posteriori...
after the facts that include: her biological father
beating her biological mum...
her biological mum abandoning her and her siblings
to escape with her dear life...
    how her step-father is like her biological father
but then the problem arises: the mother is unhinged
and now her step-father is facing splitting up with her
mother... of all the siblings she's the only one
keeping contact with her mother...
the other siblings, at least one... is ******* up to
her biological father who was: the greatest intersexual
boxer of the domestic environment to have ever lived
(in her eyes at least, i bet Tina Turner could compensate
such allowances of vanity)...

she used to be a man's woman once...
but now she switched... ******* without all
the Hippocratic misdeeds of the modern, current, narrative,
cutting off ******* and other genitals,
hormonal treatments... it's almost as if Joseph Mengele
died in body but his spirit lived on...
it's like a never-ending Auschwitz or at least
encryptions of mad-scientists for thirst of knowledge
have continued on a side-note of eugenics...
but at least with the closure of the 20th century
there was safe ******* experiments undertaken
by individuals without any authority of government:
the boys would grow their hair long and put
on eyeliner...
    perhaps even use girly perfumes or wear
dresses, nail-polish... hell... even sniff ******* or wear
them... but not with medical authority creating
irreversible ****** changes...
the girls would put on more weight or work out
and pretend to be East Germany's Olympians...
cut their hair short... who came the Pixie girls...
get tattoos wear signets: those bulky rings worth not
a gram of gold but their own worth of bulk...
    and like Francesca get an undercut with a Mohawk...
change their tone of voice... defence defence defence...
and become suddenly less and less agreeable...
still retaining a feminine smile and the odd feminine giggle
that could be unearthed...
or like with her text...
'hey... i want to go ice-skating after our shift...
do you think you'd be up for it?'
sure... although i only ice-skated twice in my life...
a long time ago, 13? i fell every single time...
i looked like someone who escaped from having
suffered from Polio...
i'll still look like someone who suffered from childhood
Polio akin to Israel Vibration's
Wiss", "Apple Gabriel", "Skelly"
      or Ian "Lane" Drury...
                                    instead i sent her a text replying:
sure... but i'll look like a spider equipped with
roller blades... i'll need to bring a casual set of trousers
just in case i fall and rip my work trousers...
'ha ha ha ha(insert crying with laughter emoticons)...'

oh sure... it's not a date... i'm not just going on a date...
we're not going for dinner...
i'm going ice-skating with a lesbian...
a butch-lesbian a hiding woman...
tattoos six-pack and muscle...
no wonder: only hours prior i was admiring
a would-be Brian Molko on the tube...
        
she followed up with a text of yet more defence:
but i'm skint - it will cost £10.50 for an hour
and a bit...
      we'll see i reply... as if she was implying:
if we can't get in for free... would you be willing
to pay?
i didn't reply with agreement to paying for...
then again: i'm not thinking about ***,
or homosexual conversion therapy...
i just don't remember when a girl last asked me to
go on a date with her... after all:
isn't a girl asking a boy to go ice skating with her
sort of asking a boy to go on a date?
she said she was quiet adapted to ice skating:
she owns a pair (of ice skates)... and i'll be the hilarious
polio walker / spider strapped with roller blades
trying to swim in quicksand...
mind you... i'm trying to rid myself of the past two
interactions in the brothel... terrible ***...
that one with the madam where i was limp...
the fate of the Sabine men gripped me...
i won't deny it...
second time... she calls herself my favourite:
she isn't... she's deluded... to the amazement of the other
girls i like to **** in the brothel...
i only extended my per usual 30min stay
by clocking up an extra 30min because i was so close
to climaxing from a *******: knock knock on the door...
time's up... no... not this time...
i'm going to finish... ergo...
but even she has paved her way onto a path of too much
physical augmentation...
if the **** don't come first... then the duck quack lips
reveal themselves first... she's an aging *******
and she has never done anything in terms of work
prior... no laundry no till service...
pregnant aged 14 and in the profession aged 16...
this is the murk and the sully of the gallows
of everyone: once, former, youthful idealism of love...
trotting a horse with broken legs like
waking up into birth by a man sitting in akimbo
for too long... standing up with numbed legs...
moving awkwardly...

obviously i was going to be robbed of Khadra and Mona...
Mona became stupid for getting pregnant
with a customer... hmm... i wonder who...
last time i saw her i teased her without a ******
and this massive fright gripped her face
because i was only teasing and she thought i was
a premature ejaculator... clearly a ****** was subsequently
used and the deposit in it: **** knows...
she should know... i haven't seen her since...

i think i'll text Francesca (Frankie) and tell her...
bring your skates girl... if we can't get in for free i'll
pay for the two of us...
only two shifts prior she was insinuating about
going for a pint: i just replied: i would...
but i had to help my father write the fortnightly
invoice and send it in...
like tomorrow... tomorrow i'll have to help my mother
with the taxes and VAT...
they're getting a new accountant and she lied
about doing her taxes on a spreadsheet...
**** me... i probably used Microsoft Excel twice...
twice, properly... but since i only used it twice...
i'm a bit rusty... so much worth of secondary school
education or the university...
   they taught us the bare minimum of real-world
life-long tools of the onslaught of technology -
   hammer and scythe i can use to count heads...
oh well: there's bound to be some crash-course for dummies
on the internet...

i waited until 9pm for the three of us to sit down to
eat some fajitas...
i overdid it using Kashmiri chilly powder
and three fresh chillies in making the pineapple salsa...
but the hotness neutralised itself with the addition
of the tomato salsa i made... and the guacamole...
the sour cream and obviously cheese, esp. cheddar
neutralises all possible excess spices...
we ate, chatted... one big ******* family,
me, father and mother and my "brother" and "sister"...
well... at least the cats meow and don't bark...
oddly enough: i'm happy... mediocre sort of:
that scene from Hellraiser: Inferno...
were the protagonist - a corrupt police officer -
is forced into a nightmare of having to relive his
eternity in his childhood's bedroom...
living with his parents...
shouldn't the horror be... your parents getting divorced?
i don't know why mine are still together...
they must be freaks... i must be a mutant:
well... born only two weeks after Chernobyl:
no riddles, only clues...
     i keep the conversation going...
i help around the house...
  
                        Frankie dealt me two nuggets of hashish
in the past 4 months... once i was desperate
when the hashish ran out so she gave me the number
of a marijuana dealer: great green all the way from
America... i only used the service once...
maybe that's me being bulletproof...
i'm cutting down on drinking and i will never return
to smoking marijuana to achieve a Buddha-esque glow
meditating while high and hungry...
weighing in at 78kg... it's a bit of a yoyo with me these
days... from 99kg through to 103kg...
but then... i pinch myself: i summon the ***** to pinch
back... hmm! no man-****... so i could try out for
some amateur rugby matches...

a butch lesbian asking a boy for a date to go
ice skating... i feel... truly terrible for all the conventional women...
i would have offered a cinema date...
she beat me to the better sort of entertainment...
she said: let's go ice skating...
i would have retorted: i do own two bicycles...
how about we go cycling in the night...
round and round Raphael's Park...
round and round... and if we're lucky...
and if the winter air aligns itself with some idiot
setting off fireworks... we can get snippets of whiffs
of imitation autumn... as if the leaves of the trees
have fallen in the dry crisp air and someone
set them alight and there's no rot and knee-deep
digging of plush-decay exfoliating a sickness
in the air... how's that?

i'll send her the text... hell... i'll pay for her...
i'm not interested in ***...
she might be a butch-lesbian trying to hide her
femininity... but she still smiles like a woman...

oh sure... i remember the last conventional:
heterosexual date i was on...
we met in a sweaty night-club... if we kissed we kissed:
i don't remember... she gave me her phone-number
i gave her mine... i was in the company of
about 3 girls who i met elsewhere, otherwise:
also randomly...
at least one made something of her life...
she ****** off to Norway - totally off-the-grid...
by now probably breeding huskies for sleighs...

the next time we met... i bought two bottles of wine...
the "date"? a job interview... we talked...
subsequently we went to a pub while i had a pint...
she was feeling claustrophobic...
i was the alcoholic and she became the **** of boredom...
she excused herself: some prior engagement
with her girlfriends... i guess she thought she got away...
i way happy to get away by same mechanisation
of oppositional psychology...
all this talk within the confines of carpe diem that
centred upon: what do you / what's you living
should i think about life insurance - will we live to be 70
years old?
well... that's the cherry on top with Francesca...
you want to go ice-skating? sure...
you want to go cycling with me in the night?
sure... life insurance / what do you for a living?
how much do you earn?
             can we live a little outside a prison within a prison?!

so much for Dawid Bovie's idea of the androgynous man:
if i'm to be surrounded by "butch" lesbian
and prostitutes: that's my lot then...
i'm not going to succumb to the CV-project-veritas
in-vitro infanticide females with CHOICE
like... my spunking into a bucket and calling it:
falling asleep with the sound of rain
trickling trickling on a metallic roof...
in the night when the horrors come and horrors
claim all the little details of frailty
of mortality...

                  for every tear-jerking sympathy for
a Romeo there's the mantis of
   a Judith kissing the decapitated head of
                                                             Holofernes:
**** it... the prostitutes i truly loved ******* are either:
pregnant or on "holiday"...
i passed the brothel only two nights ago...
i spotted a man walking out from the door...
he froze like a doe in the headlights and didn't move
until i turned my head and kept walking...
i was about to blast out with wind and voice:
no shame in having to share women
we will never impregnate!
start thinking like a woman, dear man...
think on ground of evolutionary bias...
for every women there's this boast of:
50% of men reproduced successfully...
while all the whole lot of them the 100% of train-wrecks
and Piccadilly butcher's antics with the flab
have... their greatest success story to ever live...
i could be worse off... than right now...
i could have married an ugly woman:
by definition: if a most feminine man
grows his hair long and applies some slapstick
makeover creases of eyeliner...
i can forgive him his match-for-match size
of hands... height... size of shoe...
but never an ugly woman... UGLY...
that goes beyond mere the physical-glass...
i'm talking: character... there's no prime-ego
LEGO building block... no architect's corner stone...
there's nothing to work with...
just everything to work around...
to avoid...
                    
    if: for ****'s sake... i'm not planning: i'm providing
the revenue... i want to go ice-skating!
she doesn't have any money? i have "too much"...
i don't: but for the worth of life in life that's only
to supposed to span a month's worth of living it...
hell: i have no better idea to pass the time...

at one point i found out that Francesca has some Irish
roots... you're Aye-Reesh?!
              really? never would have conjured up
a sharing of ******* on a leprechaun...
**** it for good luck... like circumcision:
that's apparently Hebrew for: good luck...
with the addition of: ensuring your bride to be
be donning a niqab and all those "other"...
culturally sensitive, exclusive terms of
cultural-dis-appropriation: or whatever the **** is
coming out of H'America...
             once upon a time when that cultural export
was relevant: these days: nothing new to be
found... except the abandoned moon...

well... i sent the text... sure... i'll pay for the ice-skating...
but you have to promise me to go cycling
with me during the warmer months
with me... don't worry about having a bicycle...
you can have my mountain-bicycle
i use for the winter months
while i'll get on my summer month
road-bicycle...
we'll head toward Thurrock...
and elsewhere that's Essex friendly
and far away from London outer-suburbia...
fresh... fresh...
Jean Claude van Dame...
                       Fresh: that's her idea of working out
before the shift... and then going ice-skating...
FooR x Majestic x Dread MC...

                oh well... life in Loon-downs...
or is that: no apples... i'm sure there are no apples...
if she takes the bait...
i.e. i pay for both of us going ice-skating tomorrow...
she better go cycling with me during the
summer months...
she says no to ice-skating tomorrow
i'll become Trojan in my own defense...
if she wants to be all ******* lesbian defensive...
i can be defensive too...
i'll arm myself with enough brothel visits to erase:
first... comes... oh my grandmother disappointed
me... i could have been there for my
grandfather stabbing himself in the leg
while entering the state of AGONIA...

                    i could have been there: she? trying to protect
me against the advent of mortality?
or her... biting my grandfather's alcoholism she
induced by being a terrible woman?
his last pleasures?
crossword puzzles... cycling, fishing,
rekindling with the day-tripper postcard sender
vouch! you're the simulation tourist with
his... grand... chill... no... not -dren...
his... sole and only grand-child... i.e. me...
him buying me the books i read over the summer holidays...

women are so ape so cruel...
i stopped believing in what's idealistic and rare before
me: which i can't replicate...
i'm happy being freed from:
i don't earn the sort of money that the state
demands taxing me... weird? no!
i don't earn enough to be taxed!
weird... i'm sort of pretending to be a jellyfish
afloat... simulating gravity:
gravity is always a simulation in the medium
of water...
                by air contra vacuum:
the mountain breathes in winter a cascade of
frigid snow slides down...
a Michael Schumacher goes skiing...
****** races cars at 200kmh... one loose turn and twist:
cranium like an opening of a watermelon...
jellyfish fighting for life dead-locked style
in a sick-bed while people nearest to him
think about magic-spells: how best to live without
him: how best to milk the cow with *****
instead of milk... hmm hmm hmm...

if she wants to go on a date with me to go ice-skating...
and i'm supposed to be paying for it...
she better be readied to go cycling with me
during the summer months...
if that's not going to happen:
she shouldn't have suggested
going ice-skating in the first place, for ****'s sake...
like: anything by Bricktop in ****** is
Shakespeare to me... perhaps even more...
living with the times...

                                oh well some well: Samuel!
Samuel: you're not Samantha... learn to become
a transvestite first... before we employ the ****
Hippocrates to mutilate you, o.k. darling?
    learn to grow your hair long...
learn to put on make-up... learn to wear dresses...
learn to sniff female underwear...
Samuel! Samuel! you're not Samantha (yet)!
we will not give you up to the Joseph "Hip-replacing-******"
Mengele: shy away from everything American
in the realm of: worth being culturally exported
and influencing foreign cultures: esp.
in the basin of the origins of the English ZZZUNGE...
that's England...
                  
HIPS FOR KNEES!
                    America: beacon, former: beacon of the world
to come... came one Cain for every second cannibal
no Satan was spawned: at least that's Iranian paranoia
covered: converted, shut the doors on Tehran...
bigger whoops happened when...
Garry Glitter became pop once more
with the release of the Joker movie
and that mad dance scene...
on the 132 steps where Shakespeare Avenue
meets Anderson Avenue...

    i will never, ever... visit... anything... remotely...
resembling... or being curated as being:
North America... i've had too much north american
cultural anemia...
             prior to words not being so much politcal
as agent orange doing all the "talking"...
                                  
  tam tam tam dam dam dam... ditto... do no more than
the necessary "evil": just, bass: on the base
on insinuation;
hell... if the afro-cosmopolitan is the new "cool",
the new "groove"...
let's just keep it... marred: in murk: in murky.

i'm not into an endeavour of helping people; my categorical imperative? it's derived from alexander dumas: as athos said - the best advice? is to not give advice at all.

solipsism is a kinder word for autism,
why?
  because autism is an observably
adamant medical noun,
  call it a condition if you like,
whereas solipsism is unobserved,
perhaps even unobservable,
since in humanistic terms,
philosophy is a strand of medicine,
esp. in times of mental / physical
dichotomies...
medicine understands autism,
just as philosophy understands
solipsism,
   pop culture only has narcissism,
and what history was,
once upon a time, a chronology,
which is now, a dam,
a thick custard, honing in & of,
events, that hardly confiscate
an allowance of time,
time, the last remaining hoarder of
artefacts, has been emptied,
the death of history happens
within the vicinity of *a day...
it's precisely what has been written
that translates into all quirks
of the un written stalemate of
"expected" history...
    beyond the in vivo / in vitro
parody... there's a third,
and it's self-evident history,
namely? history delves on dead matters,
as journalism over-emphasizes
affairs of the living...
ergo? in vivo / in vitro / es mort....
why? the gravestone lives
on, no matter the birth of,
the death of, or an epitaph...
      es mort in vivo continuum...
philosophy says: solipsism,
medicine (one tier above biology) says:
  autism.
    i still think philosophy is
medicine in humanistic terms,
as it is kinder in choice of words,
imagine a doctor telling a parent
that: your child is a solipsist.
the parent: a what?
doctor: ok ok, an autist,
a gifted ******,
    someone who can be observed,
but can't observe,
   someone without a "self"
tier of consciousness.
i still prefer using certain philosophical
terms, primarily because they're
under-used,
  and ought to be,
to concern myself even further,
i find philosophy as a typo of
medicine,
  the appreciative escalation of
wordiness,
           in humanism philosophy
is a sort of strand of medicine,
which psychology / psychiatry isn't,
and never will be:
nonetheless, written in english,
it always remains a pompous effort
to study, practice or regurgitate....
that's english for you,
a very unforgiving, but more
importantly, a very pompous language,
the bellybutton language bound
to & orientated around greenwich.
but at least we can arrive
at a concentration of defunct thesaurus
use...
       i'm pretty sure that
autism is not the third removed cousin
of solipsism, even if the thesaurus
is invoked....
       the former is obviously harsh,
the latter? slightly mystique prone...
as the differentiation suggests:
there's consciousness,
   then there's the unit -
then there are tier of consciousness
where the unit becomes aware
of itself, later morphed if not "lost"
into automaton modality...
i.e. "lost", due to its effectiveness
and economic propensity;
"the unit": without any, curiosity,
or side-tracking endeavour -
which is all the more natural
whether observed, or within a spectacle
of scattered of examples: repeated.
  akin to religion, medicine has reached
an obelus crucible (a schism) -
notably due to the dichotomy of
   physical medicine,
and metaphysical medicine -
i.e. mental health vs. physical health...
that somehow the latter doesn't translate
into the former,
that the mental illness of depression,
doesn't translate into the physical illness
of lethargy...
      "laziness"...
                 i can't see how
there's a "clinical" depression,
without seeing how there is:
                                   clinical lethargy;
maybe i'm wrong in attempting
a dualistic fusion of clinical similitudes,
but sometimes certain confiscations
of the perfect health, entwine in an
     ultra gemini dance of the siamese.

she gets you
always a rattle before she strikes

vitality
immortality
in vitro

wisdom
intrinsic
are you starting to get it?

Gaian
getting high in
something not in short supply

the serpent’s vine
so divine
initiate

awakenings
transmutations
and healing

sharpening intuition
bringing to fruition
and feeling

earth medicine
grounding and connecting
dimethyltryptamine

a single entity
going round and round
seeking peace

the snake of life
she gets you
always a rattle before she strikes

By: Cedric McClester

Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks

For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft

From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well

Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history











Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.

i gather, all philosophy is written on the anti-cross, or a sickbed... and all maxims on the deathbed - in between there's nothing but vain distractions that have no basis for a consensus of surprise - they are merely therapies of manual labours, shadow-caste by weakness to invoke a sense of belonging to this world akin to a labourer of pure action - reduced to the same pure action: as one might showcase faking one's own death.

Kant said of poets: bothersome flies -
here to steal the cupcakes of my pondering:
zwischen die volkern erzielt wird
a mondus vivendi - in vivo or in vitro?
alter: mondus quasi vivendi -
and all that talk about sabotage (canto xix)?
his own poetry - even the sarcasm, but
especially the sarcasm shines through pristine
as if Hannibal Lecter talking about Alabama:
i gawt dem tousand doughlars tough mak 'em...
        awl over the plaice -
            got to give Ezra the cheek for demonic
slapping to shove that one, up their pristine
temple of ahoy ****! still, the variation is there:
usury and simony - talk of,
       Thomas the Cartesian -
Peter Simon the Usurer - the rock that gave
way to 1000% a.e.r. of maggot - interests rates
and what they said about her:
         piece of meat for the film, *****,
second rate: ***** slapped to Disney - and aren't
women natural sadists? i guess the Cesarean section
was a move in the wrong direction:
*****, pain! *****, pain!                well...
          if i was ever to be bothered, i'd be bothered now:
they're saying you need your genitals stretched
like Armstrong winning the 8th tour de france -
but f.g.m. is bad, bad bad bad -
hey, i was the one who said: get an abortion,
i didn't love you in the same way i ****** you...
you'd think she wouldn't think she was a murderer
akin with me, until the **** ***** turned into
a yanking diaper wearing blob -
                  i love how precursor physics akin to
post-physics (metaphysics) is entombed with pepper
ante: so sneeze into the benzene ring and get
either para- or ortho- physics out -
but she was russian orthodox, which is worse
than roman catholic: no feeling of guilt -
just the relativity factor: forget female rights:
let's just **** the ****** for giving her freedom -
yeah... and i just graduated and couldn't find
a job in chemistry, was working as a roofer:
she has two apartments in St. Petersburg and a mansion
in Siberia... and she sums it up as: i have no money.
blah ha ha ha ha; and i have an aunt in Warsaw
who sends me monthly stipends to drink myself to
death while i write the alternative to Proust.
  he really gave it to them in Ohio: i really gave it
back to London, imagine being published in the town
of your birth, simply because the western notion
of a book: is actually a brick, or a rubber door-stop -
unless you're famous? forget it... seriously,
they really have destroyed poetry with the idea that
autobiographies will **** poetry off...
question is: if you lived an interesting life...
why would you write a book? why would you?
i'm sure you'd continue making life interesting,
Don Juan wrote a book, Faust was like: bartender!
next round! and what's with these ghost writers?
that's like taking the concept of narration
and inventing a fourth dimension -
            our literary tastes and ambitions... are actually
ruled by dyslexics - people who not only can't
write... but who primarily can't punctuate...
now... if this is a healthy society (that we live in)...
then i guess Iraq is an improvement after toppling
Saddam... bra-*******-vo.
                         if i were the west i'd shut up
for one generation, and stop this political fetish of
foreign policy - but, as you guessed it... it won't work...
           just today, a program: 15 years after -
truth, lies, and conspiracies - well... if Guy Fawkes
did blow up parliament, we wouldn't be having
bonfire night celebrations, we'd be having debates...
but since Guy Fawkes plot was a failure:
ola anonymous! ola whoever...
                  and that massive tower in Dubai?
it was an architectural coup - let's freshen things up,
let's keep the competitive streak coming -
who's ******* overshadows all other erections
(egoism)? point is... i don't even care,
         there's no point playing hide (deny) & seek
(doubt) with these people... there's no point!
         i'm not seeking the ultimate noun -
    or how you perpetrate grammatical cleansing:
you basically strip words of meaning,
   and drop them, face-down, into their respective
grammatical category, and the job's done:
no grander meaning, no ulterior purpose,
    no alternative suggestion;
        or rereading Nietzsche - you either recite
something by the author, or you cite the authority
behind your own investigation - the former is
sycophantic stagnation, the latter a narrative continuance:
                furthermore? continual nuance.
    that's how rhyme will remain until i find
the original intention of poetry's need for rhyme to
   be anything but what it currently is: unappealing -
it's like poets want to write something that can be
classified as poetry... which obviously leads to
  the controversy of: but it's so ****** unappealing!
  hence the revision of rhyming to and from couplets -
   i only came across an interest in philosophy aged 21...
  any sooner and i'd fall for reciting dogmas and
upholding the arguments of others...
                   but i only came across this subject through
a collision with strife: or the lost care to strive
   in order to suspect a need for social ascension into
  the heights of respectable society of: horse racing
at Ascot, champagne and caviar: and airs: oh may i,
   oh you do indeed, sir.
                            and in each and every one of us:
   the brute: the comedian.
       what Nietzsche did to emphasise with italics,
  i'm doing it with the colon - for it is said that the colon
economises emphasis without Niccolò de' Niccoli
                           (ò) - i.e. Nichole - née coal -
in French: cut short; which means? have you ever seen
a new form of literary monopoly emerge
that wasn't ecclesiastical? i have... the diacritical markings
on standard Latin letters - they're not taught:
merely accepted -                   suspension of illiteracy
             hibernating in ages of education:
on purpose dangling - the stick a metre from your
head, the carrot a Don Quixote fata morgana -
  truly: a mirage.                SKY: believe in better.
all those guys in advertisement know their philosophy -
once i met a guy who once worked in advertisement
and was shocked when i summed up Sartre as:
                                                                         voyeurism.
  but there's a new monopoly on literacy in town,
it's obviously more refined than the old way of
telling secrets -
                            it's refined in the sense that i too would
have doubted whether that's haiku in ensō or enso'h -
dried up laughter, or the desert of once heard
laughter: lo'h 'n' behold a stammer for an earthquake -
so soon? yep, that much sooner.
                           looking at it, it's all Copernican
east north south west with some encoding, or all of them:
   up there, on the international space station
you get a hard-on thinking about nautical mathematics.
   i get him though, Nietzsche the Preacher -
              although i limited my experiences in order
to never agree with his observations that precipitated from
his experiences - none of them could have come
from *a priori musings - what with his menage trois -
   again: ménagé (à) trois - or faux pas, i.e. fau(x) pa(s) -
                   as Xerxes said: war!     (alias Łar -
     warsaw - or?   Łarsała - siała baba mak, nie wiedziała
jak - chłop powiedział: a to było tak... a sea-saw)
  while  some dwarf Polish Duck, a.k.a. politician added:
     V'AR!         -             while in this
  retreat in France - Taizé - i served out lunch and dinner
for the congregation, working with this German
  who preferred spiritual duty than army conscription
service; a memorable quote by him though:
   vey d dn't oonderstaand my good En'glish arr-cent:
   plus the Schwarzenegger for comparative literature.

Gretchen Rossi knew that she wanted to marry Slade Smiley since the beginning of their relationship. They got together shortly after Rossi lost her fiance to cancer, and Slade has been her rock throughout the years. Gretchen was concerned about getting married too quickly, mostly because of his child support issues. But it sounds like he is more than ready to marry her.

Gretchen Rossi has already cancelled their wedding once. The two had planned the wedding and set the date, but they had to cancel because the date conflicted with previously created events. Rossi could not get married on her chosen date, as many of her friends and family members could not make it out. The two have been engaged for two years.

According to a new Radar Online report, Gretchen Rossi is now canceling her wedding again — and some people believe that these two will never get married. As it turns out, the wedding cancellation has nothing to do with their feelings for one another. Apparently, it is just tough for them to find a date that truly works for everyone.

“They are definitely still getting married and are very much in love,” a source says, adding, “Why else would they do Marriage Bootcamp together? The reason that the wedding has been postponed so many times is not because they have doubts that they are meant to be together, but because they are both working on a lot of projects right now.”

It is no secret that Gretchen Rossi is working ******* her business, Gretchen Christine, and she often posts pictures on Instagram of her work. She has never been in a rush to get married and have a child, and it sounds like she is being reasonable in her planning.

“Gretchen just launched a purse line and she and Slade are pitching several different ideas to various networks for projects that have them both on camera and behind-the-scenes,” a source has revealed, adding, “Lately they have been getting a lot of pressure from their close friends to do it already. Gretchen cannot wait to be Slade’s wife and, when the time is right, they will have their huge lavish wedding. This is what they both want.”

Last year, Rossi opened up about her struggles to have a child. Gretchen shared her journey on The Doctors last year, but she revealed that they had not been successful.

“I always knew that I wanted to be a mother,” Gretchen has previously said, adding, “Slade knew that it was something that was very important to me, but he also told me he had a vasectomy. We just decided that in-vitro fertilization was a much quicker way to make things happen for us.”

What do you think of Gretchen Rossi delaying her wedding yet again?

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

you take a chance
and you say man
here my digits,
now shared,
here is my Rx,
call me as needed

weeks months later
a phone rings
at 2:30am

and one poet says it's me,
I am the living soul
of words you have appreciated

and the other says,
I'm glad you called brother,
how did you know I'd be awake?

and he laughs and says
I read your stuff,
you write best tween
midnite and dawn,
so the probabilities were favorable
that I would find you awake and capable

and you walk and talk and roam
roads and oaths that black and write
screen letters
can't full convey,
till one says **** man look at the time
and both laugh,
knowing a poem
had just been writ in
true voices
shared

and that kids,
is the chance some make,
when first your words you take
and the poetry you proffer
is product of genuine flesh,
beyond mere in vitro digitally fertilized

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

2521-vaalhaai: South African Shark
2522-vaaljapie: inferior wine or acid
2523 vaccimulgence: cow milking
2524: reedbuck: antelope frequenting reeds; lucriferous learning by smart animals
2525 reeve: to pass a rope through a ring (the wedlock of an anarchist with an opportunist celebrity)
2526 reflectography: method of revealing hidden drawning lines beneath paintings the cryptadia of top secret Qart
2527. reflet: iridiscent or metallic lustre
2528 refulgent: casting a ray of light; radiant and beaming (something so rapid it blurs space and time or provides extravagant thrills)
2529 regardant:in profile and looking to the rear (hindsight)
2530 reginal: of, like or pertaining to a prom queen (relating to the women at a given college or high school vying to become the most popular students at the school or relating to really popular women in a given corporate culture)
2531 regisseur: stage manager of the Truman Show
2532 regolith: layer of loose rock overlaying solid rock (the lessor music of bands that have a few good songs but many mediocre one)
2533 regrate: to buy and sell again in the same market (larceny)
2534. relict: left behind and surviving on the moon
2535 relction: recession of sea leaving bare land (a view of a distant alien civilization where tidal flows are extreme and much land is uncovered)
2536 remanet: postponed case or parliamentary bill
2537 remeant: returning; combing back (characteristic of a person immured in a comatose state convalescing into consciousness/ a person undergoing a hypnotic influence while being told many secrets as in Seattle 12/16/2009)
2538 remigate-to row or cause a row (a motile miracle that causes a domestic dispute among atheists or agnostics/ an argument between psychiatry and scientology)
2539 remotion: separation, removal or removal of a person from office for disreputable malversation
2540 repousse: raised in relief by hammering from behind or within (a deft ****** encounter with a hot girl where she ******* from *******)
2541 reprobate: reprehensible or immoral person
2542 reprography: reproduction of graphic or typeset material (Joseph Smith)
2543 reredos: screen behind altar (covert homosexuality in the confines of a church or heterosexuality in confession booths)
2544 reremouse: a bat (a vigilante that pretends to be a superhero for street cred or a supervillain for street cred)
2545 rescript: answer of the pope or empower to any legal question edict or declaration
2546 resection: cutting away a part of a work or movie especially the end (stretchgraves)
2547 resipiscence: recognition of error; change to better frame of mind
2548 respondentia: loan on ship’s cargo payable on safe arrival
2549retiary: of nets: using nets as a weapon; catching insects in webs
2550 reticulose- of the nature of a network or plexure (of ornately interconnected brains that fetch the most farsighted even when finifugal insights to later refine themselves/ someone with a very protean mind)
2551 retinaculum: connecting band and means of retention (the ornate intertesselations and neuronal concatenations of people with very high IQ’s in their temporal-parietal juncture and the prefrontal cortex)
2552 retrenchment: cutting down on; reduction in the amount of
2553 retroject: to throw backwards a lateral
2554 retropulsion: pushign backwards
2555 revanche: revenge for policies directed towards recovery of territory
2556 revendicate: to try and retrieve a lost good or prospect
2557 revirescent: growing young or strong again because of a lifestyle change or change in medication
2558 revolute: rolled back at the edges of frayed modernity (a statement of pandering by a popular culture figure that tries to cadge people away from modern climates in exchange for the heyday of his convenience)
2559 rhadamanthine: like a stern judge or a steerage avizandum
2560 rheography: measurement of blood flow or the migration of kin in consanguinity to patriarchs of history
2561 rheology: science of the deformation or flow of matter into decadence rather than qualms
2562rheophile: living or thriving in running water (someone who thrives because of widespread sin)
2563 rheotaxis: direction of movement by water (movement of sinners around the world in terms of where they move the most often)
2564 rhexis: rupture of blood vessel (injury to your children especially in a frivverscrabble
2565 rhigosis: a sensation of cold: the ability to feel cold (the fear of your bank account being frozen because you too widely share insider information about the military or the financial landscape to too many loose lipped people)
2566 rhinotillexomania: compulsive nose picking or mining for depleted resources out of deprivation even in frustraneous endeavors
2567 rhopography: painting in still life (mercurial pictures of underminnow)
2568 rhotacism: hubris of Aryan Asians (the hubris of all people that claim racial supremacy)
2569 rhubarb: nonsense; actors’ nonsense background chatter (secretive speeches mistaken)
2570 rhyparography: genre of still-life pictures of sordid subjects (the trauma of working in a job that requires you to view disturbing autopsy photos or exposure to extremely distressing post-traumatic stress because of a major event in one’s life)
2571rhythmometer: instrument for measuring speed of circadian rhythms (instrument for measuring how widely spread drug abuse is in a given community)
2572 ribibe: an old crone, past the age of ****** appeal (an elite older woman that thrives because of agerasia)
2573 ridibund: easily moved to laughter (the terrorism of coarse jokes never meant to offend because of jannock)
2574 ridotto: social gathering with music and dancing(a monumental moment in human history that spares many people from suffering or harm/ a lucky marriage between soulmates)
2575 rifacimento: recasting of a literary or musical work (breaking up a band)
2576 rigescent: becoming numb or stiff (to have a random ******* when not thinking about any ****** thoughts)
2577 rimose: covered with cracks; full of chynx (a city deeply divided over drug issues)
2578 ringent: the audacious pursuit of married  women by guys who are extremely jaded by their *** life with their girlfriend or wife who cheat to much damage to their personal acclaim
2579 rinkomania: obsession with skating or hockey (of an attempt to injure some rival so they cannot compete with you on a professional level)
2580 ripieno: supplementary or reinforcing music that becomes a mainsail for collective motivation
2581 rittmaster: captain of a troop or horse (owner of a football team)
2582 **rivage: shore or bank (an astute bank that survives all financial triage by having a great balance sheet and liquidity)
2583 rivulation: irregular marks of color (the act of hiding one’s celebrity to roam around the world incognito especially when cloyed by fame)
2584 *rodomontade: bluster; boasting or bragging speech
2585 roentgenography: imagery or examination using x-rays(of or pertaining to absurd attempts at humor)
2586 rostrum: platform for public speaking (the demegoric tendency at campaign stumps for wide audiences that demarcates the elevation of pycnostyle to ensure the broadest audience possible understands it)
2587 rotocracy: government by those controlling rotten boroughs a graveyard for simpletons and groundlings a corrupt violent jail
2588 rubefaction: reddening (to turn an independent or blue-leaning region into a conservative territory either because of migration or because of oppositive support for provincial issues)
2589 rudenture: architecture that promotes ciplinarian molds that support liberty (the collective acts by the mafia to enhance their power base in the least violent way possible for public relations concerns)
2590 rugible: capable of roaring or becoming famous for subpar music
2591 rumbustious: boisterous about absolutely every sporting event that can be screened (a compulsive gambler on sporting events that always wagers a ridiculous amount in proportion to his net worth)
2592 rumchunder: fine silk (the most refined people of Asian countries that are known as holistically gifted, photogenic and generous either locally known or nationally known; an Asian paragon)
2593 rumfustian: a hot alcoholic drink made from pirated drugs off the dark web
2594 rupellary: a momentum of tsunami and the rise of an underdog hero because of musical talent or athletic prowess
2595 rupestrian: composed of rock; inscribed on rock (relating to the knowledge gained by analyzing the Rosetta Stone or the ability to learn new languages thereby/ the capacity of someone who doesn’t understand a language to figure it out by using subtitles)
2596 rurigenous: living or born in the country or backwater (of a famous celebrity from humble beginnings that climbs from a less elite family or region into international stardom)
2597 vacive: empty
2598 vacuefy: to produce a vacuum or help fugitives escape
2599 vacuist: someone that beliefs that an absolute vacuum is possible in nature (someone who believes in quantum events)
2600 *vacillate: to fluctuate in opinion or resolution
2601 vadable: able to be crossed, forded or folded
2602 vadimony: bond or pledge given before a judge
2603 vagantes: wandering monk scholars (elite people that travel often that are tight-lipped about the secrets they learn from other countries)
2604 vagarian: a whimsical person who always goes on adventures on the spot even when they are churlish or out of the way
2605 vagarish: of the eyes tending to roam or tending to focus on the Roman Catholic Church when watching *******
2606 vagient: crying like a baby (especially among adults that are thermolabile because of domestic disputes especially when peacefully resolved)
2607 vagile: having the ability to move about (as in prisoners or people widely hated by certain urbacities)
2608 valienton: bullies that brag because their old boodle is now useless so instead of vaunting heroism they become breedbates of catarrhine pandering
2609 vallidom: worth, value (as of a person or moment in history the salience of a prayer measured on a quantitative scale)
2610 valse: dance in triple time or waltz to elegant music
2611 valuta: comparative value of a currency or the price of a rumor because of “Knights”
2612 vandyke: to cut deep angeled indentations into (to inculcate bricolages of dumose masonry)
2613 vanitarianism: the pursuit of vain things (obsession with self-referential music)
2614. vapography effect of physical emanations on photographic plates (Cryptaesthesia by aliens)
2615 vapulate: to flog, to be flogged (especially when you know too many damning secrets about Middle-Eastern countries and they fake the charges so that no one knows they are flogged for treason)
2616 vaporetto: to motorboat a hot ***** in Las Vegas (a Wedding Crashers affair with a desperate girl in an elite family trying to philander with people from other elite families)
2617 varan: monitor lizard (Alien 33rd)
2618 vardle: the bottom hinge of a gate (the deepest underground computer protected by cryptadia)
2619 vardo: gypsy caravan a bus trying to extort people by using ****** Doo hijinx and other covert technology
2620 varietist: unorthodox person that becomes unorthodox because of indifferentism being too widely shared or euhemerism seeming too plausible
2621 varimax: method of statistical factor analysis that taxes advanced stochastic mathematics to analyze the financial sector
2622 variphone: use of many sounds used interchangeably by ausehetoria
2623 varsal: whole; entire; universal panorama
2624 vas: a hollow ***** or tube that conveys liquid within the body or sells secrets because of market liquidity
2625 vasotribe: instrument used to stop bleeding or prevent rioting a demarche
2626 vastation: purification by destroying evil elements
2627 vastidity: a vast extent
2628 vau: the sixth letter of the Hebrew alphabet
2629vauntlay: in hunting, release of a lead set of hounds before following them to catch fowl (A wedding crashers gambit to injure your friend)
2630 vaurien: a good-for-nothing; worthless person who is now worthless because of valienton and thereby inert in capacity for coverthrow or vangermyte succedaneum
2631vecordy: madness or folly because of crapulence and ravenous emacity among desperate people naive enough to believe that this is already the highest heaven that don’t believe in the afterlife ignorantly
2632 vectigal: of like or pertaining to the paying of tribute or rent (the act of the mafia collecting money for protection measures and thereby earning a handsome fortune for community organization that is parlayed into many charitable endeavors historically rather than currently)
2633 vedro: Russian unit of liquid measure equal to 2.7 gallons
2634 vees: soft earth in a crack or mining fissure (secret hiding place of nuclear combustible fissile materials in the Middle East)
2635 veepstakes: campaign to become vice president of any country
2636 veilleuse: shaded night lamp in red light districts ( a covert ******* or drug dealer)
2637 *velleity: lowest degree of volition; slight wish without any impulse to action
2638 *vellicative: causing twitching (an overdose on a noxious illegal drug)
2639 velocious: with great speed in any endeavor (high on amphetamines)
2640 venatic: of like or pertaining to hunting or Good Will Hunting
2641 vendible: capable of being sold (especially of or relating to secrets about the future or the past but relevant secrets)
2642 vendicate: to claim for yourself (arrogate)
2643 vendange: grape harvest (DXM Overdose)
2644venery: pursuit of ****** gratification
2645 venireman: juror smart enough to jurymast an entire gathering of galere into finding a man innocent rather than guilty that gets angry when prejudiced people don’t have the reninjasque capacity to see that a person is telling the truth (someone who believes authentic people rather than fake ones)
2646 venoclysis: introduction of liquid into the body by an intravenous drip (an attempt to sabotage a ****** encounter by providing medication that results in Erectile Dysfunction)
2647 venostasis: reduction in flow of blood to a part of the body paralyzing geographic regions because elite families don’t feel safe in famigeration or cabotage
2648ventana: window (a primordial operating system that is still in use today by some recalcitrant companies or government institutions abroad)
2649 ventifact:stone polished by wind-blown sand (advanced architecture built by aliens using slave labor)
2650ventrilabral: pertaining to fans or fanatacism (crimes or charities supported by professional sports teams in any country)
2651ventrad: towards the front of a crowd of people (the successful act of clambering towards a teleonomic goal)
2652 verbalism: undue attention to words alone even when synsematic
2653 verbile: one whose mental attraction to women is primed by words rather than scopophilia
2654 verderer: officer in charge of royal forests or elite national parks or the novalia of alien territory
2655 verglas: film of ice on rock (a show about drug dealers or natural disasters)
2656 verificationism: doctrine that emphasizes empirical verification of theoretical principles (the documentation of visible miracles that validates God’s existence)
2657 vernalization: to artificially chill seeds to hasten flowering in spring (to time a birthday by trying to conceive at the right time or using in vitro to time a pregnancy)
2658 vernicle: cloth with image of Christ’s face impressed upon it
2659 vernier: small movable scale for finely adjusting divisions of a measuring instrument (portable scale used by drug dealers)
2660 versability: aptness to be turned around
2661 versemonger: a writer of mediocre poetry (someone who relies on ChatGPT too often because he is extremely lazy when he does his homework that thereby suffers from academic struggles in English especially when ChatGPT becomes too advanced)
2662 versiform: changing in form
2663verticillated: whorled
2664vespertiolionize: to turn into batman by traumatizing a kid (the act of subacting someone you don’t like which molds their persona in a way that they become very jaundiced about racial groups or cliques because of repeated obganiation of bullying)
2665vesuvian: smoker’s slow-burning match
2666 Veneniferous: carrying poison
2667 vesta: wax-stemmed match (Mailbox Arson)
2668vexillology: study of flags
2669 vicariant:involving species or varieties that evolved in discrete habitats from one another (apagoge of fortuitism)
2670 vicenary: based on the number twenty
2671. Whorl: spiral or move in a twisted and convolted fashion or a pattern of spirals or concentric circles
2672 vigia: danger warning on a chart (especially when relating to hurricanes and other dangerous weather by people that circumambulate even when they aren’t japan)
2673vigorish: percentage of gambler’s winnings taken by a bookkeeper
2674 vilipend: to despsie; to make light of; to disparage mockingly expecially by people given to using praxinoscopes that feel immune from widespread persecution
2675villeggiatura: to stay in a rustic region to hide from urbacity (witness protection)
2676 vindictivolence: desire to take revenge
2677 vinegaroon: a large scorpion that emits foul vinegar-like secretion (a menacing alien that scares everybody)
2678 virgation: system of geological faults branching out like twigs (an international urban region taunted and tarnished by frequent Earthquakes especially when their buildings on constructed on liquefaction-prone soil)
2679 viripotent: fit for a husband in the Victorian era
2680 virtualism: doctrine that Christ is virtually present in the Eucharist
2681vis: force or power of a person or an event to shape the course of history
2682 viscid: semi-fluid; sticky; glutinous viscosity
2683 vitative: concerned with the preservation of life
2684vitrail: stained glass windows in an elite church (cryptic warnings about future catastrophes that are recognized intuitively as portentous as in a theophany by God warning the world about nuclear powers waging war against each other)
2685 vivat: long-lived macrobian doing anything in its power to forestall death
2686 volplane: to guide through the air without using any combustible fuel or material
2687 voltinism: breeding rhythm; brood frequency of a pullulated species of animal
2688vorticist: painter who expresses complexity of machinery through art or the complex social dynamics of astute moments in time better left to megalography than exact description (a covert anti-war protest by an artist or politician masquerading as a visual artist)
2689 vraisemblance: verisimilitude (a specious theory about somebody that is ergotall in the wrong direction that proves rotten and false)
2690 vug: small cavity; small cavity in a rock (a protrusion of a rock lyric that is too big of a hallswallop that it might cause people to become panicked or concerned about its spread)
2691 vulpecular: of or pertaining to a young fox or the media in its heyday before it became corrugated with corruption
2692 galeanthropy: belief that one is a cat (someone froward who pretends to be tralleyripped even when ugly demanding attention from men that don’t really care about them)
2693galere: group of undesirable people; unpleasant situation
2694 galericulate: topped by a hat-like covering (manacled by manhattan)
2695 galimatias: nonsense; confused mixture of unrelated things
2696 gambado: bound or spring of a horse; a fantastic dance move or athletic feat of prowess
2697 gamidolatry: worship of the gay agenda despite all the carnage and aceldama they caused
2698* gasconade: to brag or boast
2699 gavage: force-feeding of poultry
2700 gavelkind: land inheritance by all sons in equal proportions (naive theory that all countries deserve territorial bilateral considerations based on GDP)
2701gegenschein: glow of zodiacal light seen opposite the sun
2702geitonogamy: pollination of a flower by another flower (people that mix ***** and ****)
2703 geocarpy: the production of ripening of fruit underground (black market drug trade or the preservation of alien life underground)
2704 gemmate: to deck with gems
2705 geogony: study of the formation of the Earth
2706geomorphogeny: study of the origins of land forms
2707 geophone: device for detecting sound waves underground or finding the best house music
2708 geophyte:plant that grows only on the Earth
2709 geoselenic: pertaining to both the Earth and the moon
2710 gerascophobia: fear of growing old
2711 geoscopy: examination or analysis of soil (analysis of habitable conditions on exoplanets sustainable for population expansion or migration of alien species that seek novantique)
2712 gerenuk: a long-necked antelope with large eyes (characteristic of friendly aliens that you always remembered fondly)
2713gerocomy: study of old age
2714geromorphism: appearing to be older than one’s actual age
2715 gerontology: study of the elderly or the doyenne of knowledge
2716 ghawazi: Egyptian dancing girls (an elite DJ that always plays cryptic music at events even when it is grobbery)
2717.gid: Brain Disease Suffered by Sheep
2718gilbert: unit of magnetomotive force
2719gimbals: arrangement of rings allowing free motion of supported objects
2720ginglymus: a joint that permits movement in one plane only
2721glaciology:study of ice ages and glaciation (study of economic stagnation)
2722gleed: hot coal; burning ember
2723 glissade: moving on snow without skis
2724glochidate: bristled or barbed insults against people that know too much information for their own good
2725glomerate: packed or bunched together (especially to protect everyone in the camorra’s safety)
2726glottogonic: of, like or pertaining to the origins of language
2727 glozing: flattery or deceit
2728* gnomology: collection of aphorisms, proverbs and short poems.
2729 gnosiology: study of knowledge; philosophy of knowledge
2730 gnotobiology:study of life in germ-free conditions (biased study of a life manacled by the Regisseur or other similar conditions/biased life study of someone in a psychological experiment with many confederates)
2731goliard: wandering student (someone stranded by advanced intellectualism that is widely bullied at average schools)
2732goatish: lustful or foolish especially in becoming homonormative because of wednongues
2733gomphiasis: looseness of the teeth (the widely spread hallswallop of the bruits about qwartion)
2734gonfalonier: a standard-bearer (someone who holds the torch of liberty or power as a symbolic stance to preserve future generations or the current one)
2735 goniometer: instrument for measuring angles between faces (the capacity of internet websites to find your propinquities to taste and coterie and understand the bionomics of your reactions for lucriferous power)
2736 gonoph: pickpocket; thief (especially a shoplifter in an urban region during a time of chaos or in a susceptible location)
2737gorgonize: to turn into stone (to make something permanently remembered) or to paralyze with one’s gaze
2738gossypine:cottony of or like a slave because quidnuncs obsess about every underminnow in history on purpose because they feel intense jealousy or personal hatred
2739gowk: a cuckoo or a fool known for antisocial behavior and cisvestism that is beyond idiosyncratic
2740 grampus: a blunt nosed dolphin a trucidation of animals seeking revenge against their owners (the collective operations of Japan in studying marine biology or their attempts to irradiate the entire ocean)
2741 graphemics: study of systems of representing speech in writing
2742graphospasm: writer’s cramps
2743gravimetrical: of or like or pertaining to measuring by weight in choosing ****** partners
2744greaves: tallow waste (the people that become irradiated by your presence and thereby alienate themselves from you. Flaky friendships that dissolve into nothing)
2745 grillage: framework of timber (the secret shibboleths of a region known for geopolitical obscurity that hides many secrets in a useful way rarely known by the majority of the population)
2746 grimgribber: learned gibberish; legal jargon
2747 groggery: low public house (poor house music that is annoying)
2748grognard: old or veteran soldier of an extremely traumatizing conflict or terrorist attack
2749 gromatic: of or pertaining to surveys or surveillance
2750 groundprox: altitude warning system in an aircraft or  a warning about the degringolade of the stock market
2751 groupuscule:small clique or faction
2752growlery:a retreat for times of ill-humor
2753 grum: morose; surly especially when contemplating thanatopsis
2754guff: nonsense; empty talk about vain things done by celebrities to pander to common consideration
2755 guichet: a ticket window or a similar small opening into esoteric contemplation offered by synquests
2756 guignol: something intended to horrify people
2757guilloche: to decorate with intersecting curved lines (to find amplivagant metaphor in gradgrind mathematics of alkender and albenture)
2758gymnure: a hairy-hedgehog (a guarded stock market secret by sharks of bilkey)
2759 gynaecomania: abnormal *** addiction with women
2760 gyniolatry: deep respect or devotion for women
2761 xanthippe:ill-tempered woman
2762xanthocomic-yellow-haired
2763xenagogue: guide; someone who conducts strangers
2764xenial:of or concerning hospitality towards guests
2765 xenocracy: a government by foreigners
2766 xenodocheinology: a love of hotels because you aggregate information about different elite hotspots by staying in the best rooms and visiting the most obscure locations
2767 xenogamy: cross-fertilization
2768 xenolalia: a persons knowledge of a language never studied
2769xerophobous-unable to survive drought
2770 xerophytic:able to withstand drought
2771xilinous: of like or pertaining to cotton pickers
2772xiphosuran: horseshoe crab ( a lying idiot celebrity that cozies up to power and commits many cardinal sins because he wants to be remembered in history for the fake plaudits of gamidolatry)
2773xoanon:primitive wooden statute overlaid with ivory and gold
2774xography: photographic process for producing three-dimensional figures
2775 xylophage:some girl that loves *******
2776 tabatiere: *****-box of ambeer
2777tabloidese: roorbacks about big celebrities in attempted femicide
2778tachyphrasia: abnormally rapid speech
2779tachytelic: evolution at a faster than normal rate among humans and other species than a normal group: a high grayscale
2780taffrail:rail around the stern of the ship because of protean steerage (a jail for poor people that is extremely beneficent because the people inhabiting the jail are all non-violent offenders and they enjoy luxuries rarely shared in other prisons)
2781tamaraw: a water buffalo a catadromous instinctive hunted species of vinsky in wertong vogue that has great albenture because it has been depredated by klangquant elitism
2782tamburitza: a guitar, lyric or other instrument used by musicians of the wrepolis to balkanize society into fractured splinters of the fragmentary
2783 tangoreceptor: a yulliver coerced into aberrant naivety by finding gezellig only among the outcasts of the frontier of any given society
2784tantieme:share of profits or royalties especially among people responsible for the trucage and manufacture of memorable megalography
2785 tapinosis: use of degrading or diminutive diction regarding a topic
2786tautomerism: possession of one or more structure by a substantial claque coterie or entity
2787 taws: a thong used for punishment
2788taxis:movement of a whole organism
2789 technomania: craze for technology
2790 tectosphere: part of the earth that moves during plate tectonic activity
2791 tediferous: bearing a torch to protect a nave from depredation
2792 teichopsia:visual blurring and colours associated with migraines (a highlight reel of a miraculous game or battle in a major war)
2793teinoscope:a device that can predict the future by bending light or a gammon by pavonine gammerstangs to inculcate depravity among young impressionable gamines and gamins
2794telarian: a creature that spins a web or a machine that uses the world wide web to discover how to make itself a spider
2795 telegnosis:telaesthesia
2796 telematics:transmission of computerized data over long distances
2797teleonomy:characteristic of being governed by an overall purpose
2798tenebrific: producing darkness as in childhood indoctrination into evil sadistic beliefs of phobanthropy or diablerism
2799 tenendum: clause in a deed defining land tenure
2800 tenderometer: a fake device used by earwigs of chantage to misquantulate the capacity of any frethorned human being to be cadged into wanton lewdness demarcated by the conditions of primposition
2801 tephra: ash and debris ejected by volcano or the dumb things said in an anteric argument between paramours
2802teratogenic:producing monsters or abnormal growth by providing performance enhancing drugs
2803 terotechnology: use of various skills to extend the life of equipment or the perdurability of commercial products to withstand planned obsolescence
2804terramara:kind of earthly fertilizer designed to mutilate with brawndo rather than provide water (an alien gambit to pollute the Earth’s water supply to shorten life expectancy, reduce ***** count or a preventative measure to prevent the Scarecrow from Batman Begins)
2805terrella:magnetic model of the Earth
2806 terrisonant:having a terrible sound
2807 terry: piled fabric consisting of uncut loops (extremely repetitive electronic music especially if it is cheesy)
2808 tessellate: to form with mosaic
2809testudo: wheeled shelter used for protection from all above attacks (a mobile fortress designed to protect VIPs/ Air Force One)
2810tetramerous:having four parts
2811 Teutomania: obsession with German things, words or ideologies
2812 thalassiarchy:sovereignty of the seas or control of the world’s moral compass
2813 thalassography: science of the proper ecclesiastical balance between eumoireity and eudaemonism
2814 thalerophagous: feeding on fresh vegetable matter (xenucography)
2815 thalweg: middle of navigable waterway used as boundary line
2816 thanatognomonic: indicating or characteristic of death or the purpresture of the fears of death by nihilists who prepossess themselves over Alzheimer’s research
2817theatromania: obessions with *******, Rabelaisian humor, or a craze for going to operas or plays
2818 theocentrism: belief that God is central fact of existence
2819 theodolite: surveying instrument for measuring angles the docimasy of illuminated freemasons to discover true ranks in freemasonry
2820 theophilanthropism: love of both God and humanity
2821 theophile: one who loves or is loved by God
2822theotechny: use of the gods as a primary impetus behind movie scripts, plays, songs and stretchgraves of tempcoverage because it glorifies the kingdom of heaven on Earth and Heaven above with the parallax of wonder
2823therblig: unit of work for quantifying industrial operations by efficiency measures complicated in streamlined geotechnic study
2824thermantidote: apparatus for cooling air or calming regions of walming urbacity into docile peace
2825 thermophilous: preferring to be around hot women rather than ugly ones
2826 thersitical: scurrilous violent in manner of speech
2827 thewe: pillory for women
2828 thigmotaxis: movement of plant towards or away (the skittish actions by sketchy drug dealers who realize they are in a purlieu that is too radically monitored by traffic and in their paranoia they steer away to a remoter location to conduct affairs especially when done with high felony amounts of a hard drug)
2829thixotropy: temporary reduction in viscidity when shaken or stirred (lacking confidence and zeal in the face of intimidating spies)
2830 thnetopsychism: belief that the soul dies with the body only to be reborn on the day of judgment
2831thoughtography: supposed technique for transferring mental images onto photographs or movies
2832 thrasonical: boastful or bragging about the fortunes of a family because of williwaws of personal repute (bragging about your *** life)
2834 thremmatology: science of breeding domestic animals and plants (the science of genetic engineering people of different races with compatible genes or inserting in vitro ***** with the best chance of thriving)
2833throttlebottom: harmless incompetent holding public office deliberately because he is a wagtail pickthank faineant that serves a role to switch the seat of house to a different party
2835tocodynamometer: instrument for measuring uterine contractions during childbirth
2836 titubate: to stagger or stumble
2837toft: a small hill (an obstacle that is minor to the broader objectives of a military unit trying to sack a major important camp or refuge for bastions of armigerous security)
2838tolerationism: doctrine of toleration of religious differences
2839 tolypeutine: of, like or pertaining to armadillos (of or relating to the process of extended hibernation whether in theory or in fact)
2840 tombola: lottery in which each entrant must win a prize (the geopolitics of professional sports to reward underserved urbacities with championship opportunities)
2841 tomophobia/mania: irrational propensity for performing surgery
2842tootle:nonsensical writing or speech about feminist gammerstang topics that is often reiterative and cliched
2843topgallant: second in command in a country with a constitutional monarchy among the porphyrogenitic class
2844 toponomastic: of, like or pertaining to place names
2845 torchier:floor lamp with bowl for reflecting light upwards (A UFO)
2846 tornote: having blunt extremities (people with unseemly quoniam or other pelvic features)
2847 torpid: numb;lethargic; having lost the power to act
2848torpillage:electric shock therapy (the intensive process of destroying someone’s brain even when elite that relies on deliberately making an incision in the prefrontal cortex to ensure that they have zero personality whatsoever and cannot think)
2849torporific: causing numbness or dullness
2850totidem verbis: in so many words
2851tourbillon: swirl; vortex, whirlwind (a complex vicissitude that entangles many elements of the underworld in either unity or balkanization that creates a crime spree either internecine or wagered against an effete enemy)
2852tournure: a contour characteristic of a turn of line grace or poise because of exterior enrichments of circumstance
2853tow: to smoke **** too habitually to learn anything especially if attempting to be a poetaster or epigone
2854 toxophily: love of archery or spies
2855 trachynphonia: roughness of voice; gruff
2856 tragelaph: mythical crossbreed of a goat and stage (an athlete that is talented at both acting and sports)
2857 tragomaschalia:smelly armpits an old spice fanatic (characteristic of a bodybuilder whose arrogance derives from petty achievements in the weightroom if not also acclaim from professional contests)
2858 traulism: stammering in depaysed anxiety especially in front of a corporate board or in front of the police or a judge
2859 transpontine: from the other side of the river: melodramatic because of an anteric argument always done deliberately to make a relationship more exciting between men and women
2860 trave: crossbeam or space between crossbeams ( a space of time or dimension of spaced warped by antigravity technology that is so advanced it remains a cryptadia
2861 tresayle: great-great grandfather (a stupid remark about your family lineage that endangers the security of your family legacy/ a parody of self-importance)
2862 triboluminescence: emission of light caused by friction
2863 tribuloid: yielding prickly fruit (questions that raise discrimination rather than egalitarianism in the subsultus of the superstructure of the substratose civilizations we live in that understates environment and overstates cognitive nativism)
2864 trichosis: arrangement, distribution or disorder of hair (characteristic of an inoperable robot fashioned today or in the future which fails in many respects to operate with bionomic continuity with the ecosystem they are placed within)
2865 trichotomy: division or arrangement into three distinct parts (a movie trilogy widely celebrated)
2866 tricotee: lively old dance or dancing to old pop music that is already outmoded by newer popular music
2867 trifarious: facing three ways (multiple polypsychic virtualisis with more than two people simultaneously inhabiting the same consciousness
2868 triforium: a gallery or arcade over an aisle; a gallery over a nave and a choir that displays images of transmogrified supervolation of superlative gooods
2869 trigamy: being married to three spouses with no husbands
2870 triphibious: taking place on land, water and in air descriptive of the navy seals or the us marine corps in a symbolic way
2871 triplopia: triple vision
2872 tritanopia: inability to find merit in democratic ideals because of an imperseverant belief in republican values by agitprop and flipcreeks of commerstargal
2873. racemation: cluster or bundle of grapes or any other thing
2874. rachidian: of or concerning the spine
2875. rachitogenic: something causing rickets or rickety things
2876 radappertization: treatment of food with ionized radiation to **** bacteria
2877radiesthesia: sensitivity to radiation from any source
2879 radiogenic: produced by radioactive disintegration
2880 radular: coarse scraping and raspy (as in music)
2881 raglan: having sleeves going all the way to the neck (the act of connecting someone to the Matrix)
2882 rappel: calling to arms by the beating of the drum
2883 raptorial: predacious; of, like or pertaining to a bird of prety
2884 raster: pattern of parallel lines on grid used in certain scanners
2885ratheripe: early ripe person who is coerced into villainy by evil purlieus or even more evil parents especially when they encourage vile and debased ****** activity
2886recherche: carefully chosen, rare or exotic (especially characteristic of a location, movie or song that is widely overlooked)
2887. ratite-of or pertaining to flightless birds
2888.* rebarbative: repellent, repulsive
2889 rebullition: act of boiling up or effervescing
2890 recaption: reprisal; taking back that which is unlawfully obtained
2891. recipiangle: old instrument with two arms for measuring angles (a masonic elaborative test that guages the proper degree in freemasonry)
2892. recit: narrative tale often told to little children to teach them the kerygma in a secular story
2893 reckling: smallest or weakest of a litter (the most inferior people in a given race or country)
2894 reclame: art or practice by which publicity or notoriety is secured
2895 rectitudinous: manifesting overly obvious moral correctness
2896 rectrix: quill feathers of a bird’s tale (small details about aliens that are extremely rare and rarely spread only among elite families)
2897. recure: to bring people back to health
2898 reddendum: reserving clause in a lease
2899. rede: to counsel or advice
2900. tripudiate: to dance for joy; to exult to stamp or stampede
2901 triquetra: a triangle-shaped object or UFO
2902 trismus: lockjaw a hard word to pronounce or a savage beating in prison
2903 trogoldytine: like or pertaining to wrens or cave-dwelling animals or aliens
2904 troilism: ****** activity (Heterosexual) between three persons one man and two women
2905 tromometer: instrument for measuring slight earthquake shocks or the reaction of stock markets to infomania
2906 trophotropism: direction of growth by nutritional factors
2907 tropism: the tendency to react to innuendos or insults in a specific manner
2908 tubifacient: constructing a tubes (of or relating to videos where imposture is delicately preened in order to heighten dramaturgy in the quest for YouTube stardom. Characteristic of the pranks and stunts of people that want to become internet fads or celebrities)
2909 tuant: of writing keen or trenchant (someone who absolutely nails it out of the park with rhetoric because he speaks rapidly with a memorable cadence and strong rhetorical contortions that use residual techniques to emphasize a parallelism in expressing a barnstorm)
2910 trutinate: to weigh using a balance to evaluate mentally especially in the process of figuring a person’s neurotypes and signature beliefs
2911 tufthunter: a sycophant or toady that is wretcheen (someone who is extremely guarded of their daughters in childhood and adolescence about their mobility to date men because they are extremely persnickety and scared of their girls becoming *****)
2912 turbinate: shaped like a top or inverted cone (an extremely taxing mathematical proof that often requires the counsel of the sithcundman professor at any given university even an elite one/ to perform an absurdly hard arithmetic problem in your head without relying on a calculator or memory alone)
2913 turtleback: structure over ship’s bow or stern or the part of the ship that sinks dumb people for low cadasters of moral repute and dismal IQ scores (a device used by Nielsen to figure out how to socially engineer the people of cisvestism into collective political solidarity around oppositively supported gambits of a freewheeling republic)
2914 twire: to peep; to leer (to corrupt an economy by introducing a staggering amount of  debt or inflation that often results in productive revolutions)
2915 twyer: a nozzle for a blast of air especially in a 4DX theater
2917tympany: swelling with pregnancy especially when harboring an idea that is obvious to everyone else but you have the best business angle so you wait patiently for the most opportune moment to pitch it
2916macarize: to be beatific or blessed (to be celebrated as an artifact of the kerygma especially in the modern day/ to herald a preacher or a bishop as a sacerdotal hero for his marksmanship of morality)
2918 macaronic: muddled or mixed up (someone who is out of place at a mafia assembly because he is tricked into attending)
2919 macerator: person who fasts and becomes emaciated
2920 machairodont:sabre-toothed as in a tiger or tigerism of Bruce Almighty
2921 machinule:tool by surveyors to obtain a right angle (boodle paid to become the highest degree of illuminati or freemasonry)
2922 mackintosh: lightweight or rubberized waterproof cotton (a perdurable institution of bedrock importance to the formative duress of any person’s life that situates them with the best available resources for success and retaining the dignotions of elitism micromanaged by powerful central figures in government for sleek psyops)
2923 macrocephalic: having an abnormally large head
2924 macrography: viewing an object with the naked eye
2925 macrocosm: a large object considered holistically
2926 macromania: delusion that objects are larger than the natural size (a belief that your hallucinations make you holier than me because you encounter divine beings)
2927 macropicide: killing of kangaroos (or convicts sent to penal colonies in the past in Russia or in the modern united states especially if they are agile and elite)
2928 macropodine: of, like or pertaining to kangaroos
2929 macropterous: having large wings or fins (as in the miraculous butterfly that ambushed me at 3385)
2930 mactation: killing or slaughter of a sacrificial victim belonging to a claque of enmity that is dethroned without carnificine bloodshed
2931 madefy: to make women wet by becoming humorous in dark times needing comic relief
2932 maenadic: furious in bacchanalian revelry because of a flinker
2933 maggotorium: a place where low-ranking freemasons are bred to sell clergymen fake ideas about the future in protervity and dishonesty
2934magistride: the killing of one’s teacher especially if it involves dippoldism
2935 magnality: a wonderful or great thing that once seemed bleak or frustraneous that becomes a magnet for trendsetters on the vanguard to adopt or consume
2936 mahout: one who rides or drives elephants (ideopraxists who inspire people to turn Republican by their hortatory voice of ideation)
2937 maillot: tights worn by a ballet dancer (extremely ***** women that risk their lives to have *** with endangered redstralls because of political motivation for protervity)
2938 mainpernor: one who assures that prisoners appear at their trials or a person in the criminal underworld who ensures that all of the available funds for a transaction are counted for before the triage is dealt
2939 malabathrum: dried leaf used in ancient times to make perfumed ointments (the mummification of the dead using advanced alien technology/ hair gel)
2940 malaxage: softening of clay by kneading it to console old women by using psychotaxis and toonardical deception to remind them of their heydays in life
2941 malgre: in spite of decadent circumstances remaining morally grounded
2942 maltster: one who makes or deals in malt (women in the Victorian era that performed ******* despite the taboo)
2943 malversation: corruption in office; corrupt administration or misconduct
2944 mammock: a broken phone created by subsultus in abreaction
2945 mangonel: ancient egyptian military artifact that belongs in the cryptadia that assisted pyramid building or early motatory mobilism
2946 mantissa: decimal part of a logarithm (the exact prediction of the world’s population and GDP in the distant past to increasing measures of exactitude)
2947manumission: emancipation freedom from slavery
2948marcottage: propagation of trees by stripping rings of bark and covering them with moss (installing an advanced brain chip that can only be performed by opening the skull)
2949 maritodespotism: ruthless ******* by a husband because of high stature and intimidation especially when the women is philandering or the ruthless ******* of a pismirist company over an entire landscape of commodities fearing succedaneum might be cheaper by introducing planned obsolescence
2950 marivaudage: precocity in literary style or expression ( a comedic attempt to bowdlerize true romance by inserting pernicious elements of dacoitage in mythopoeic hatred to try and convince people using flowery epithets that a person is too alienavesced to bond)
2951 marry: an expression of surprised agreement between political rivals that convene usually in a deloped scuffle that usually leads to a trustworthy bipartisan partnership especially if the vaunted politicians are from different nations
2952*martinet: a strict disciplinarian; one who adheres to rules
2953martingale: strap between horse’s forelegs to keep its head down (a maneuver by Colorado to keep everyone in the dark about estoppage because of corporate motivation)
2954 martryology: the study of martyrs especially political ones that risk their own safety to promote God rather than peace
2955 mascaron: a grotesque face on a door knocker (a lie by an elite band to cadge people into lewd dominions of chantage and sloganeering a widely held flargentum travesty)
2956 mascon: concentration of a dense mass beneath the moons surface (a tightly agglomerated race of humans in synoecy with aliens that are very smart and sympatric in their fidelity to human society especially when the aliens are incorrugable in their demands of Earth)
2957 masterate: degree or title of only the true master masons above 33rd degree or the highest ranking of the illuminati
2958 matachin: a sword dance by gypsies to intimidate people about voodoo because they know about squash courts and fencing and the ESP of the cryptadia (a rogue agent that betrays his home country by finding a paramour from another country that he cares more about than his patriotic valor)
2959materteral: of or resembling an aunt
2960 mathematicism: the belief that everything is expressible in mathematical terms and that every human and alien problem with eventually be solved by advanced technology and deliberate larithmics
2961 mariherital: of, like, or pertaining to inheritance along the female line
2962. matelasse: having a quilted ornamentation a fabric with a raised pattern as if quilted (a sheet of LSD)
2963 matutinal: happening early in the morning (a seductive ogle by an attractive man trying to court a hot girl to bed by using candelit vigils as an excuse especially when religious and pytherian)
2964 maugre: in spite of; notwithstanding
2965 maximalism: uncompromising adherence to extreme demands especially when they resort to underminnows of sabotage to winnow evil people from the earth’s population by chantage
2966 mazzebah: ancient Jewish sacred stone pillar (the arc of the covenant)
2967 mazopathia: any disease of the placenta caused by being to illuminated to have children
2968 mazut: petroleum residue after distillation (the people that survive an internecine situation of civil strife between rival factions in a seedy country plagued by poverty or in any other civil disturbance involving combatants from rich nations)
2969 mechanomorphic: having the form of a machine (lacking much of a persona that makes you look dull and insipid especially in the corporate world where you seem hackneyed and toady)
2970 mechanolatry: worship of machines (a strong priority by a large corporation to streamline all operations even at the cost of accosted labor frenzies of dearth)
2971 meconology: study of or treatise concerning ***** or shanghaied people in San Francisco abducted by the Chinese to aid the figurative Last Samurai
2972 meditabund: absorbed in meditation/tigrism
2973megacerine: extinct giant deer or a stone-aged lie that tried to coerce the clergy into hemophiliac distortions of taste
2974 megameter: instrument for determining the best place for an elite celebrity to live by observing the stars constellated in that community and their effects at hallswallop
2975megistotherm: plant or industry requiring very high temperatures to coerce into serfdom or panic
2976mehari: camel used for racing (a ploy by toxicity to own a systematic downfall of provincial econometrics of genesiology depaysed an excuse or invitation for a rhipidate love (a carefully guarded ploy to introduce carcinogens among susceptible minority populations)
2977 mekometer: range-finder (someone who patrols a guarded regional ballaster of mainlined economic instruments or armigerous cyanotypes or arms that always remains vigilant from the purpresture of those that attempt to infiltrate the region or building/ a collective troop of security guards guarding a less obvious bulwark of regional and national importance)
2978 meldometer: instrument for measuring melting points of substances (testing how thermolabile elite mafiosos are by thrusting them into precarious peril)
2979 meleagrine: of, like or pertaining to turkeys or explicit *******
2980 *meliorism: the belief the world tends to become better
2981 melodikon: keyboard instrument (element of a time machine) that brings tuning forks in contact with a rotating to cone to deliberately chose the point of junction with the future reaching the past by pretended serendipity
2982 melopepon: any of various kinds of squash (especially the best soundracketeers)
2983 mensuration: measuring to find the dimensions of things (pataphysical examinations of time travel by mathematicism and speculative knowledge that is accursed because it is so farsighted)
2984 menticide: reduction of the mind by psychological pressure (the capacity of the mediagenic hyperbole to brainwash suscepts of surquedry a unique synsematic idiosyncrasy in definition)
2985 mercedary: pertaining to the giving or reception of wages (the fair allotment of wages not by pismirists but by people that follow through on their promises especially done in negotiosity where an excellent outcome rewards more than a mediocre one out of incentive)
2986 meromorphic: fractional office space corporate engineering
2987mesalliance: unsuitable marriage because of whiskerandas and whiskerandos or divided political motivations
2988mesochroic: having skin colour intermediate between light and dark (a political independent that belongs to a racial minority in any country)
2989 mesozeugma: a placement of a word to contradict a counterphobic innuendo so that people don’t misinterpet anything
2990 messianism: belief in a single messiah or saviour
2991 metachronism: the error of dating an event too late
2992 metallogenic: metal occuring as an ore as opposed to in rocks (the radiohoo of rap music even when less melismatic becoming more secretive than euphoric gourdinance in rock music or house)
2993metaplasm: alteration in spelling of a word by adding, removing or transposing letters the survival of political earwigs who expose deep secrets by pandering to the ruling party
2994 metapolitics: study of politics in theory or abstract (believing the cloveryield of exuberant and absurd political beliefs might be optimized with drastic draconian reforms in free autarky believing that  the world will eventually submit to communism)
2995 metastrophe: mutual exchange of information Minus of the Bear style
2996 metayage: system of agricultural labour with share of produce as wages

For a few short months the in-vitro whale  swam.
Watched and felt from a distance.
He is her newborn, Moby **** broke free.
Left behind only bravery stripes and a little blubber.
Sometimes, more than blubber, wailing extremely.
Telling mummy, he's hungry.
(c) Livvi

ex nihil
              in vivo
ex vivo
            in vitro
    ex vitro?
i too stare at blanks
like...
    there is nothing
to compare it with,
other than...
i only wish...
to heave a sigh of relief
for anyone who
has read anything
of ted berrigan.

i'm also to feud
the fraud of
the wants and...
diatribe, ready:
squint of
the regurgitated
slant nunce
for...
the feverished
to come
in awaiting years...
photograph...
or...
bull-whip & carry...
"mistake"...

out of nothing
came....
                   being
in "life"
   out of life
"being"
                 in glass:
i forget to heave
upon making
a summary,
of all the logical steps...
toward a desired
conclusion...

   i am...
born, and die a death
with, in tow,
a pillow...
i am supposed
to craft, romance
from a moon!

                the whiskey
sour, coke,
glass, cold in my hand...
there is no jazz,
there is no serpentine,
1950s poetics
nostalgia...
there is...
only, this alien...
allah-riddled
     ***-qua-non...
a squint in the eyes,
as if to...
elaborate
paraphrase...
               your sober
peoples have...
astouded me for
so long...
as to amount to...
nothing more...
than...
      laboring for
a false 'eart...

   i sniff an ugly whiskey
being poured...
whenever i see one...
pretending to stand: looped...
on a ****'s worth
of a martini!
    
i have employed scribes
to be allowed a
revelatory manifest...
the bare-minimum...
an inkling...
call it suspicion...
          i call it...
come the unsaid
tomorrow,
i come: as said:
                 the forlorn
today;
tomorrow?
     it can wait.

...and so many words,
without a single paragraph
left intact...
i could have sworn to be
worth something
of a Wordsworthian skim..
living so close to
the countryside...
among the outer-counties...

i grunt, i bellow...
i subsequently speak
the most eloquent
of tomorrows...
  shy off Wordsworth,
certainly not a Shakespeare...
if i were given
the law to speak...
i could speak these words...
but...
          but...
i tend to forget my allowances...
i need to see the eyes
of the storm
before i bellow my fury
at a god!

      before my words
retire to encompass
the status of a harlequinn
novel!
until then...
     i can only begin
to fathom myself
as either...
fog... nebel...
or a musikasten
                   melodie...
to allow for being...
zeitgleich zu mein herz!

this ancient feud isn't
my own...
        i will have nothing
to do with this feud!
but, alas...
it seems...
  i have already chosen
a side...
midning the phantoms
of zeppelins...
big h'america
and h'australia too...

           by the ollkontinent,
i abide,
         ich bleiben;
                       however much
contradictory this affair is...
the tetragrammaton
has left Europe...

you know what the Jews used
to say to the Poles prior
to world war II errupting?

ihre straßen,
        unser mietskasernen

(your streets...
                  our tenemants

wasze ulice...
                   nasze kamienice) -

you want to know who
gave me that line?
my grandfather...
he remembered it...

         as he remembers
asking an SS-mann for
sweets,
being given a handful,
so sweet...
he rushed home,
and rinsed his hands...

ich, willkommen,
         die jude, zuhause!

das ihr *** ist nicht mein Żyd...
jawohl?

I was born
Skull shattering
Bled from the bone
In vitro
When my burnt lip bit you
I was bubbling from the knees
The viscose pus beneath the skin boiling
And you ****
He pulled me through dirt, onto curb side, smashed jaw
Caked with stomach acid
Drowning on the car seat
They sat their leering at every corner
Through radiowaves, they drool each pleasure of theirs
But here I am, choking
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
Cold fingers, skin shaking, through netting
I hide from you
Your thick tongue comes slamming to the edges of my body
I have no words
My mouth shuts for your
Baton bashing
Black boot
Skull shattering

yet again a niche topic.

well, it was either the study of the Noumenon (thing-in-itself)
of Kant, or his 20th century successor,
and i too will consider his variant spelling
of being, i.e. beyng - logically? being at bay:
but mine isn't a consolidation akin to
Ezra Pound's with W. Whitman -
          whether an apologist or not:
the newspaper today speaks of the Royal
family of Windsor: and it's associations with
**** Germany, even a picture of H.M.Q.
(her majesty the queen) and her mother making
the salute reserved for Caesars, Tsars, Führers
and Frankfurters;
                     not to mention all other patriarchal
denominations -
    but i'll play on a different word, and chance no
obscurity. the word in question? *ecstasy.
       my play on it? well, there was a time when i
had a very rigid vocabulary, a very in vitro
  sort of vocabulary: experimentally rigid -
i focused on prefixes greatly, and the reflective (mirror)
versus the reflexive (reflex) expressions of
distinct potential - but that was long ago, still...
the language was curbed in a sense of being
restrictive - again this prefix waterfall fascination,
in this case re- (again and again) - a mimic
experiment to paint the res (thing) that the moon
is, in all its phantomic pandemonium eeriness.
this time? from ecstasis: ex-stasis
ex- (out of) -stasis (στάσις), i.e. standing still.
perhaps this is what one interpretation of the concept
of dasein involves: ecstasy of movement -
or as the other interpretation suggests: lack of -
a variant of permanence: or idolatry at variation -
rather than the fleeting moment, insect like
impermanence: or the insistence of the hives -
frivolity and pressurised activity / bußiness (being
busy in a counterproductive way to avoid hoarding).
ralφ myerz & the jack herren band
in the background; now the nomad and the album
concentrated.
              now a return to the narrative, p.13 of
Heidegger's ponderings ii - vi...
           footnote number 6. {unfamiliar symbol.}
the symbol? a crossed-out И (cyrillic / neo-Greek
    / Greek eta H, η, e.g. the /i/ skewed i
                    in machine).
that's the content, but in context?
            'whither with the asking of this question?
  into the (crossed-out) И.
    first suggestion?                 not-i.
          working backwards:
'but how to bring about this pledging?
depth and breadth of the engagement of da-sein
in the question of being!'
     then furthered into a second use of the "unfamiliar
symbol":
          'but the (crossed-out) И must be borne in silence
through the questioning and in the attuned silence
must be gained by struggling toward grace.'
   cf. (conferre / compare) p.8
  the auftrag (mission) of humanity, in the above
cited. indeed the expression: ex-stasis
toward a happening - or as many already suggested:
to fill the plughole that's Buddha meditating.
the man with the crown of myrrh: clearly too painful
to spare a thought toward: what began in Greece
   became entombed in Germany.
me on Nietzsche on Kant: idiot or no idiot:
                                   a hellish read in his later years;
and i could have been more influenced
by Gil Scott Heron, but Malcolm X wrote a decent
autobiography - plus my temperament lies with
sniffing out burning wood in winter:
that husky, smoky perfume only accessible in winter:
where winter is.
                           as a final reminder:
it didn't simply take the aesthetic twins η & ε
(you'd think with a name like eta, you'd use the
scalpel and cut it open into e-     &     -ta
  and write e in words rather than a skewed iota
/ι/, right? well, apparently not)
              or φ & θ                  or           o & ω:
you can to ascend toward the heights like some
Prometheus and bring down the fire of diacritical
distinction too; a bewildering task, in all honesty.
  or man akin to the rebellious gods v. the titans
when used / inserted to bewilder rather than be
kept coherently used: yet again the bureaucracy
of intellectual power.
or so i thought, with this and that above in
a certain hallowed form of despair starting the
chain of cigarettes and tea - or as already apparent:
perpetual night (variant to come) with only one
hour of daylight: fleeting moonshine of
                                                       the spotted mind;
as such, the already stated illumination.

drinking warm whiskey... isn't so bad...
it could be much worse:
it could be warm *****:
     not cold enough to reach a gomme syrop
consistency...
life's so tragic... sometimes...
       a warm ***** is like a warm beer...

what am i supposed to say?
i'm just tired of wanting to be in love...
i'm tired of hating...
   i'm tired of being angry...
i'm tired of being preditable and also:
slithering in pickling juices...
i am tired of love because...
               when it was "love"...
it wasn't dog eyes and a leash...
         or: never mind the solipsism of cats
when they still desire to mark your
forehead when sniffing it...
or come up and greet you:
with a "bodzio"... a head-****...

    so much of my cognitive capacity
became a wasteland from having
both woman and love on a peddlestool
of the ideal...
                   it's terrible waking up...
but that "terrible" sometimes becomes
as... exhilarating as taking a cold shower...
or watching a flock of sparrows chirp...

and the ***: cocoon ***... under bed-sheets...
all my one-night stands happened this way...
under the bed-sheets...
i'm happy to give a comparative literature of:
well... at least in the brothel we did it
under dimmed lights...
****-naked on the sheets...
having showered first
and downed a slacker of ms. amber:
oh you know it's bad...
that i have to call whiskey a very personal
investment narrative...
it's not whiskey... it's... ms. amber...

i should have been drinking long ago...
come shoulder to shoulder with
both my paternal and maternal grandfathers...
cocoon ***...
and if you don't think a man can be "*****"...
at the brothel?
  there's the concept of: creaming-up...
if the oyster isn't salivating enough...
yes... "****"... cocoon *** with a sawdust ****...
sanding paper **** more like...
oh the agony: but to my liking...
yeah bud: stick your lesser want of limbs
into a meat-grinder:
is that penetrating enough?
      who would forever suppose...
it's a kangaroo pouch of safety...
the nadir of lucifer's birth:
     free-falling: head first... but not through
a ****... not some floral pattern...

     cesarean... cesarean... are we going to give
births to kaisers or dull-eyed: deer...
i very much like to imagine a band
of mad-laughter hyenas...

               coal-burning black eyes...
      i am tired of giving up my thinking to any
and all ideals of love...
i could have invested my (th)ought i
into... conjuring up an electric bulb...
        a frankestein...
                i became so tired of love...
i had to come across a brothel:
to steal kisses from prostitutes
     and attempt a theft of the halo of st. augustine...
mummify letters in books...

which i have done...
        but love is such a never-dog...
                    one relationship that involved as cooking
together: beside the already necessary
prerequisite of *******-for-free...
her period, the ******, and cooing her
to do it in the bathtub with the water running...

or this: moment when enough ms. amber
is in me... and i turn to...
         the chants of the templars:
            crucem sanctem...
                   dum pater familias...
          da pacem domine...

that clarity of a transaction...
              the growling dog overwhise
teased with food already presented to him
in a bowl...
          count of fingers...
                    
     i'm tired of love... of all of my body...
this nail blunt head from being hammered
too often...
           it escapes me:
why should my libido be compensated
when it requires: exhaustion...
to find the most fanciful thought:
only when the libido is exhausted:
   and if i have to do it myself: so be it...

but of so many people worried:
i am indeed... "worried"... when will it...
subside... die off...
this quills': marquis de sade:
leverage of: to read books using only
one hand...
                        if the acne is so prolonged
to make me...
belzeebub's favourite ***** of:
what precedes ****** / anti-wrinkle creams...
one maggot 'ere... another...

it is simply exhausting to love:
as one is expected to love via fiction...
and it is too costly to love:
poetically... anything but language...
esp. acquired language:
a language learned... most certainly
not passed from a grandmother to a mother
to a son...
some could claim to call these words:
in vitro...
         and on that matter...
which part of me is experimentally "dead":
the mind... or the body?
i am not... a native of these parts...
a native...           a native...

this is the part of the year when
winter is crucified... and reborn as spring! no?
all ******* rose buds and sparrows chirping!
who can love... so... ideally...
idle though: to make the burdens
of the most... boorish matters needing:
stressed concerns for "detail"...

  am i one of the last ones that still
bought a *****-mag when
the free **** was available online...
                     twitch... i'm an old ****:
in a 34 year old body... because:
keeping up... became synonymous with
being distracted...
                  cam-girl... etc. etc.
            "soz": but there just isn't any bragging
to be minded...
or a:        h'american striptease... d'uh: tease...
the carnival of the wriggling maggot
came to invoke
kissing the eyelids... gently teasing
the tip of the nose with a bite...
                             this body... or that body...
an a sculptor...
   in the brothel i was only robbed... once:
well... "robbed"...
this coke-head distrated me with:
do you want to use this *****...
          the proprietors' henchman...
a little turk by the time: i presume to be:
Osman came up with a bundle of stolen cards
and asked me: which one is yours?

that's a pretty good effort...
        i must have been up to no good...
once we stopped ******* because: she started
seeing downton abbey in an epileptic flicker...
yes: and me ******* her wasn't,
exactly... a ******* chocolate fondant...
          
it seems so... pristine when...
two bodies are allowed to touch...
without all that extra baggage...
that is desired to... "beside" the otherwise...
readily available carnality of the act...

e-girl vidoes: teases...
                                    what can be the best
compliment... one could possibly give to...
byzantine culture / the "modern" greek?
   ah... Αγνή Παρθένε... the singing...
                          
   mulier... no... not a woman or wife...
             hardly a property right...
something to boast and concern oneself for
the rattling of feathers of peacocks...
     mulier... the french playright...
ugh... molière - yes, him!
            molière donning a mullet! yes...
and not one of those charles II wigs...
from one wig alone...
               you could have made...
oh... roughly... an orchestra's demand
for violin and cello bows...

              pissy-pant french of 14 year old
past: one direction fandom...
                            for every male fan of tool...
a declared ownership of a *****...
better still... a screwdriver...
    that would be something...

                                or when stand-up comedy
was communist enough to entertain:
a cabaret form... an **** oddity (bottom)...
can't enough not tire of
stand-up solipsism...
the stand-up solo project of...
back-and-forth with an audience of canned
laughter?
cabaret... doesn't have to be switz
ja herr doktor voltaire...
         but some sort of ping-pong...
a game of squash...
i do not know... of a single concept of
sport... where there's only one...
concept-riddle of engagement...
can comedy... or rather... should comedy
have "evolved" beyond the cabaret...
famously: in theatre-land...
stones in his pockets...
two bodies on stage...
  with a plethora of...
how the sequence went...
   BRONSON...
bronson "vs." or rather:
"nursie" vs. "mr. petersson"...

          two names: Conleth Hill and
             Sean Campion... oh look... capital! letters!
yes: of note... circa 2001...
and that's when...
   this... stand-up... hard-on "comedy"
of stand-ups...
no... no cabaret format...
internal-monologues extending into...
an octopus attempting cliff-skimming:
climbing... failing miserably...
   if it's such a "comedy"...
    where's heidegger's hammer?
last time i heard: even by ol' martin's standards:
you'd require two people to talk
about philosophy as a "side-project"
when hammering in nails...
how can one person tell a joke?
oh but they can...
on special occassion(s)...
         the joke is better translate via a dialogue...
rather than a monologue...
last time i heard...
  
comedy doesn't require these stand-up
geniuses...
imagine... ******* is actually...
a *** act...
taking a **** is actually a...
        get together meal for three...
and that's the loaf... equally spread...
for the devil's dozen...
   ******* will satisfy any champagne socialist
get-together...
      
   i have to become bored of love...
the sort of love that would never come with:
the impetus of darwinism's ideologues...
for: now that i have become a father...
           i'm less and less: a ***** satyr!
               wish me 70+ age and being freed
by dementia to curse like a cobbler
and a seafaring man...

              that overbearing: no room for impromptu:
when solo...
otherwise... no otherwise...
just that strict: regime of... an expectation
for and with: canned laughter...
all that's missing are two tin cans
and a placenta of stiched-up tongues...

... for all the movie buffs...
it's not enough to blunt your eyes on movies...
actors: and their subsequent roles
in 3D... why did up stand-up...
the grand mass-orchestrator of giggles be
allowed to cue the audience...
like any minor dictator might: from
argentina or romania?

                 back toward the ***...
yes... stealing kisses from prostitutes...
this was never going to be one about Wordsworth's
"celibacy"... which you would be expected
to partake in... just having bit into
the forbidden fruit of ****** with your sister...
or so... they might say...

daffodils and that "doris" of the...
will the word ****... somehow prevent
you from seeing ****** ****...
or ******* ****?
then at least there's the hope...
to make minors of ettiquete standards
of the: proper social contract approach:
with civility... or therefore: none...

i am finding a rare occassion for:
an as to why, i would ever do anything to begin
with... grow a beard (1)
grow a beard to stop myself shaving (2)
grow a beard to hide my double-chin (3)...
grow a beard because
growing my hair long became boring (4)...
grow a beard because i wanted
to scratch my ***** on my face rather than
scratch them on my "eden region" (5)...
the other reasons congregate under
the status of... rubric and tally...

(6) to grow a beard is better than growing
the hair long...
no chance of becoming bald...
long hair attracts too much female attention...
last time i heard a woman who grew a beard
became a circus-act...
a beard is the safest territory to mind...
when there's a woman that...
somehow needs to compensate!

         all of a sudden: i have forgotten *****
envy... when i came across
beard envy...
   i am... very much so...
envious of mel gibsons beard...
in general: but esp. so in the role...
of prof. murray... with him donning
a cravate and a top-hat to boot:
the epitome of what all men of the world
could have wished for:
the victorian gentlemen...
fiercer still: an autodidact...
a dog without a leash... eh?

     i pity the tattoo of ethnicity:
given that: i would be english...
an ukranian would be scottish...
or a lithuanian... the tattoo of ethnicty or a past...
that i would be the ******...
and there was this tide of cossacks...
i would be... the ******...
           and there would be some
ingenius pict equivalent...
            in my abode...
                      
    i am tired of love...
the most attired love of idealism...
as i am tired of hate:
and anger...
i am tired of both of these latter:
when there's no boxing match interlude
to match-up with...
i'm tired of love as i am tired
of retribution and of justice...
i am tired of gambling...
what right is there fore me:
to steal from the blind?
           i am tired from: expectations...
i am tired of ideals...
i am tired of hate because:
if i wasn't i'd still find it...
egregious to spot the minor offences
of citing the prefixing n-...
                                        as... nothing short
of an "oops" of b-               and -igger!

i'm tired of being: a civil monkey...
if i'm tired of love...
if i'm tired of hate...
i can never tire of language...
but if i become:
zoologically kept: inept...
                      ha ha! ha ha! ha! ha!
i: dodo: tire: and Tod:
of: ******: improm:     p'tooh!
         savvy or the sinking ship?!

                       RATZ!

better a concern for prostitutes:
seeing that... there's no...
jackie ol' myth to be cooked from my "affairs"...
i thought about:
how about... now was the best time...
to not **** prostitutes...
i stole kisses...
an exercise in making videos...
bring back blockbusters!
             bring back blockbusters!
**** the content creators of youtube!
give, me, back, my, *******, jukebox!
give, me, back, my... thesaurus algorithm!
give, me, back, my, *******, jukebox!
give, me, back, my... thesaurus algorithm!

           once upon a time: dubbed:
paupers... the homeless...
prostitutes... now... eh... one sly loss of calling
these... the... leeches of: welcome tomorrow!
so the price of... being...
astounded... that's it?!
                the magnified statement
of karma-phobia...
there has to be a concept akin to:
karma-phobia when islamophobia is already
too bogus to touch...
there has to be: karma-phobia...

a ******* a canvas:
i went down this alley because...
i just... wanted to show-off...
for myself...
the most better part of myself i could never
show with... a girlfriend...
and showing my best:
armed with merely a dog and a leash:
just wasn't enough:
or a fabergé egg: missing a matryoshka doll
"detail"...

like kicking a dog in the *****...
like... attempting to catch a mosquitos
by the ******* donning boxing gloves...
the lowest of the low:
of picking the "fruit"...
jackie ol' burrow: ripe-kipper...
and that merry-o-round of...

                give me enough upper-body volume
to rummage and ruminate...
to clearly identify the psychopaths
leisuring themselves over a thursday's
afternoon worth of sun-soaking
a metaphor of bath...
         and all those minor grizzly detials
of swathing a mosquito or two...
because we are inclined
to spare the flies...
because: we just, are... thus inclined...
i hear an argument: i will: without a doubt...
also hear a guillotine do us all a favor
of detailing the: "chopper"...

my my: that ripe keeper of a pulsating
neck's worth of a rhubarb...
salmon teriyaki...
                                       n'est ce-pas?!

in between: calling it learning to tie one's
shoelaces...
having no better synonym detail
of comparison other than...
             with depeche...
                                no song to be worth
any particular: sort of... originality...
and or in... detail...
                   there's only a hope for
giving a particular sort of wind:
associated with a month...
and with a month: a sorting-out of a year
within and beyond a decade...
a century...
                    
this had to be forever: and one...
enough for the worth of tonight...
and with it... no other, better, compensation
other than my own input;

ha ha!                          grace?!

she was obsessed with this idea of rebirth because she messed up too many times; she believed everyone deserved a Rennaisance, and it was her vision of the circle yeats drew,

and it was for dreamers who squatted in gutters along alleyways hoping to find a muse fallen and buried in the filth;

and it was for realists who really had fallen and buried themselves in filth because their homes were lower than that;

and it was for addicts, who believed they had really been to the moon and conspired against naysayers;

and it was for conspiracists who knew all along the moon simply didn't exist because they had it manufactured in their kitchen;

and it was for sleeping girls with trembling hands who sought out this kitchen in the night whilst everyone merrily slept;

and it was for the sleeping boy who really wasn't asleep but lying naked under sheets and limbs;

and it was for the tangled limbs that still quivered next to him from a dissolved ecstasy, boyish and sad and hungry;

and it was for that hidden starving hunger that still plagued the neighborhood's homes and lingered on doorsteps, begging;

and it was for begging peals of laughter that his mother sent up from the rooftop when the sky went dark and only her kin across town, reeling, beastly, gorgeous, could ever reply;

and it was for unsent replies, for conscripted soldiers, for wars fought by better men and surveyed by lesser;

and it was for less-than-scrupulous masters who hid under their solemn cathedral art that spoke higher than god himself;

and it was for god who left the world to fend under his illusory cloak of stars, so dim it only mocked his fiery wrath beneath;

and it was for that fiery wrath, the kind that incited and ravaged and devastated, merciless with abandon for all of mankind's own misgivings;

and it was those misgivings that had started her renaissance, her quest for glory cores and sovereign minds, for signs and streets and women and colors and light and the end of all suffering;

it was for restart (like a death, but shorter), somewhere between termination and a genesis in vitro (the liminal space found within and without); for her alone, solitary line cleaving the shadowy folds of time, defiant, windswept, miraculous, insignificant glitch through the eternal night; for her, until she commanded time to stop; for her, hungry; for her, powerful; for her, terrified; for her for her and only ever her: the regifted universe.

In-vitro lumps and bumps.
The **** of the unborn mammal, rolls through amniotic sea.
Son unborn; procured, of Eve's daughter, rides the belly swelled.
Scratches of purple, stretch they engrave my honeys tummy.
Face of the unseen as yet, expectant in excitement.
Eager in anticipation.
By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

this is an "etymological" petition, there's no "proof"
involved... let us just say,
   why do i never, and never will
cite an english "philosopher":
frankly? because there aren't any!
i know there are worthy examples
that kindly lend their tongue
to idle ears...
         but the english,
being counterparts of the swabians -
i.e. the saxons: are sophisticated
braggers of esteems -
    they parade upon the notion
that they are best as gesticulation,
fathoming their superiority upon
a gimmick! they they are superior
because of their accent...
      yet fathom half the work and twice
the leisure in competing with
the greeks in diacritical approach...
they really gave swallowed the
red herring... they never could
   keep dialectical approach to their
already shakespearean approach
of being two-faced sheep-shaggers
while pushing them off a cliff...
that's why i can't redeem or even consider
the english a philosophical race,
poetic, yes, but their demand for replacing
the greeks as: the "philosophers"?
that's too much, it was enough that they
imitated the romans and left the latin
script edenic...
  but to fathom an imitation of the greeks?
now you're pushing it!
******* bellybuttons of the world,
it has no bearing with greenwich being
the ******* meridian!
             you've pushed it, far enough!
you can be the "philosophers", once
you acknowledge diacritical markings,
and eradicate dyslexia!
          why are the poles so fathomable
with their tongue? clear, syllable, indicators,
diacritics = punctuation marks within
punctuation marks... which probably
means an enigma for you,
  and that subsequent paraphrase.
and it's an irony, i must call it
   german ironism,
                 for a people for efficient in work,
they were the ones to produce the most
philosophers worth citing,
i guess: once you become too efficient
you have to craft a tier of gifted bums...
intellectualism for your spare time...
which the german philosophers are,
bums,
            intellectuals that can fill a room
with more furniture than a carpenter...
odiously its very much imaginative / cognitive
furniture, kinda likefeng shui,
but less so...
               which is strange, since the germans
ought to be the last people able to think...
hence german ironism is a paradox
having replaced idealism,
   and the yiddish zenith...
       i think that's where god resides -
      his curiosity made him non-existent
in the darkest hours of auschwitz -
    he was like: huh? how the **** did that happen?!
there's a new fragrance in the air,
  it's not some englishman with his head
in a ****,
    it germanic, pure and simple,
   and only if it was the anglo-swabians
and not the anglo-saxons...
       ******* porridge-pie for all i care...
sure, john stuart mills,
       adam smith (an economist in the end) -
but the english are not a nation of philosophers,
which is odd, since they ought to be,
with however pointless jobs they invented
after having exported the meaning of labour to china,
and are the genesis of marxism,
which was tested in mongolia...
            oh, you didn't know?
yeah, mongolia was the laboratory in vitro
groundwork for communism -
mongolia = in vitro communism
   the warsaw pact = in vivo communism...
what?
       yet the persistency of the question
that is greater than a question per se -
for a nation of such ardent workers,
such efficient workers,
   such effective monstrous combatants of
economic prowess,
  who, sane enough among them,
could ever provide a book of philosophy?
   that's what i mean about german idealism
being replaced by das groß ironie -
the english have no chance in being philosophers:
it has become too cinematic for these people,
too: what's "real"?
    i can't treat them without a whip -
they are too an obsolete a people to compete
with either germanic or, (that dreaded association)
with the fhhhhhhench...
             the fwench! the fwench!
because the english have not allowed
    faking work, to making certain work
obsolete, they simply made working
obsolete, and faking the most apparent form
of work! no wonder that communism
originated in england!
   once more, if you don't like my scolding
whip-of-a-tongue to be on your case:
        in hope you enjoy the next bomb-blast!
but, how, how could the most efficient people
on this planet, provide enough time to
guarantee a family tree of philosophers?
   how could these people end up so
unimaginative and bored, as to provide the world
a kant, or a hegel?
           cracks in the ceiling i see: load the ark!
- and i will never cite an englishman's thought,
for the simple reason that:
   it's too late to test the englishman's
pompousness as the global meridian bellybutton!
about as centre as my ***-crack is to my nasal cavity
in my ****** geography.
       i can't cite them...
         i'll take these peoples seriously once
they wave goodbye to their multiplex romana -
and start bereaving their europeanism
akin to the icelandic peoples...
                 there is not a single greek among
them, they can fake it with their greek-cypriots -
but that gets you as far as feta cheese
            a shy kofta kebab, or a moussaka.
hence das groß ironie - for a people for efficient,
so engrossed in celebrating manual labour,
der deutschevolk, to be the rightful inheritors of
the greek thought?
         staggering...
unfathomable, unimaginable,
              but as the statement suggest:
  probably the greatest irony in world history...
i almost think there was no divine
intervention because of the creative output,
akin to a beethoven et al.
   i still will not cite an english "philosopher",
for there aren't any!
               and if there are:
they're probably as boring as any atheist is,
   or as any naturalist can be...
plus: it's not nice to shower others with compliments,
as it's never proper
   to admire another person's pair of shoes...
why? because you wouldn't swap them for yours;
the best advice you can give?
   do not give any advice.
               what's the worst compliment you can give
(akin to a woman asking what you're thinking)?
      i like your shoes.

p.s. i've only just realised,
the germans have so so many forms
of the direct article that the english
doesn't, without only the...
but like the rule shared among the two
languages, the indirect article is
plagued by its cousin english -
eine kangaroo, ein aphrodisiac -
                           a cat, an ape.

i always find that one can still find a worthwhile bit of verse at night, provided one dips into daytime writing, as i also find not having written anything during the day, makes verses conjured in the night: a slightly (to be ironically mild) desperate endeavour.

to begin from where i left off...
   why do i make such large portions when cooking?
ah... the fact that my breakfast consists of
two glasses of milk, and that i only eat once
a day, it's nonetheless inexcusable -
   which ends up with me feeling like a boa
with about two weeks worth digestion and sleeping
like a cat,
     although i'm starting to think,
given that serpents do not have eyelids
(which in reality a much more evil curse upon
the serpent of eden who was told to slither) -
but saying that, i think that once the serpents
have feasted, they are allowed to sleep,
even if they don't have eyelids,
     perhaps as perfectly adapted as bears in
hibernation, but i'm suspicious of the notion
that once a serpent has began digesting its food
it falls asleep for two or however many weeks
it takes to digest a prey...
me and my giant homemade hamburgers
and homemade chips?
     i asked myself the question:
how do you actually cut up a potato to make
the perfect chip? sideways first, about the thickness
of a pinky finger, and then horizontally,
the ol' chippie down the road can't beat these
mean spuds, sprinkled with paprika and
cajun pepper, salted and... booyakasha!
oh, and they have to be cooked slowly, i mean,
slowly...  obviously adding a bit of olive oil...
but after eating this meal i felt bloated,
so i had to come up with an answer to ensure
i could feel a slight tickle of ms. amber in
my stomach, so i walked it off for an hour,
easing out farts, which was a good sign...
made it through the english suburban maze
of windy streets, and found myself:
  perfectly sound...
     in the hamburgers? beef, gouda cheese,
lettuce, fresh tahmahtees, pickled cucumbers,
pickled chillies, fresh spanish onions,
    slightly toasted buns, and two sauces:
a hamburger sauce + sweet mustard...
   brilliant combo;
but that's the boring, i guess the interesting
bit is that the sky is murky rather than overcast
and there's a full moon visible as if
addressing you from behind a hookah pipe...
if ever there was a night for strolling along
not looking for a caterpillar, it was tonight;
the obvious religious sudoku,
   and no, i don't buy the ******* that you can
call no. 9354 (in the times supplement)
   difficult, or mild, as it sometimes happens,
not with 1/9 of the squares being completely
blank! that **** is fiendish, i just proved
the point solving no. 9359 (difficult) -
only aided by killing a few brain-cells during
interludes of watching pop vlog videos,
some static music videos,
     and the more i drank the more i became
impressed with the effort,
  at one point inserting an obvious 7 into a square
making a face of a ****** exclaiming:
better get a pair of glasses you dummy!
so that's what i found: blind-spots in sudoku,
sure there's some logic behind it,
   but in the blind-spots just frustrate,
and frustrate, and irritate.
          the whole:

   either 1 or 7 | 2 5 8 4 9 | either 3 or 6
                             1, 3, 6, 7

didn't help, but ms. amber sharpshooter
later, and some youtube vlog video about
drunk advice or how to do make up,  
   and i finished the **** puzzle feeling
like someone injected me with steroids;

while some famous rich dummy complained
about the perils of mixing ******* with
alcohol... how about i teach you about
the not so perilous adventure of nicotine &
alcohol, high enough for just a tiny bit,
making hitting the "low": a smirking endeavour,
self-satisfying, if not self-congratulating:
to the last sip.

obvious some sort of bookish reference culminated...
yeah... the hebrew *sefirot diagram...
  i looked at it, started swaying for a bit
and then came with an answer...
   fool be he who aims at the keter (crown)
in this entire schematic, for the sefirot
is a schematic (apologies for the paraphrasing
away from diagram, but sometimes
you just have to sharpen the tools) -
    
the most famous e.g.?
    look who's hanging at golgotha...
      he who claims a crown over but one of
the other elements of the schematic,
has not understood the dynamism between
keter & malkhut (kingship) -
crowns are put on both kings and fools,
   notably alan ginsberg in prague in the 1960s...
see how the two relate?

  the real trinity embedded in the sefirot
is based, primarily, upon wisely disregarding
both keter & malkhut in terms of:
i'm aiming for that,
   no! always with a genesis always with a beginning
and always revising that beginning,
only at one's peril desire the ultimate crown
and the ultimate kingship, which belongs
to death alone...

          the sefirot can only be understood on
the base of yesod, i.e. foundation...

after all, you have: binah (understanding),
chokhmah (wisdom), gevurah (strength),
   chesed (love), tiferet (beauty),
hod (splendor) & netzach (victory) to choose
from, or if not by choice,
  then by the slow realisation of
not known the yesod (foundation) endeavoured
upon, to have gained

either the prize (keter) of said attributes,
or the authority (malkhut) of said attributes...
and this could be best described in secular
terms as the formulation of unconscious drives...

me? i crafted the combination
  based on yesod -
  i made it my foundation to stress my capacity for
gevurah (strength)... and it would have
been just that, but my efforts in verse
were acknowledged with the compliment of
tiferet (beauty) from the least of expected
of places... the mouth of a former lover:
god give peace unto her turbulent soul;

for i known i can't be king of wisdom,
  nor of understanding,
    nor all other attributes...

hence the foolishness, in kantian terms,
and the sefirot has kantian elements in it,
i can already see
   that keter is an a priori term -
  and that malkhut is an a posteriori term...
first comes the crown, then comes
the kingship...

                         i can't see how
it can be sensible any more to reverse that,
i.e. malkhut is an a posteriori term,
   while keter is an a priori term...
it's illogical to think the latter, since we already
known what sort of crown,
  and what sort of throne precipitated into
history...

               and why is it that these self-lacerating
attacks akin to christianity do indeed dare
to mention the men as "mentally unwell" -
do you even know how castrating that terminology
is? they're crusaders of the wake-up call...
because if you call the other group by
the term jihad "warrior" the moral boost it gives
them? no one calls them mentally ill,
   but suddenly someone comes along and
is included in the "mentally deranged category"
grouped with anxiety-prone teens,
  depressed teenage girls, socially-shy schizophrenics,
and the rest of the psychotic brady bunch?
i look at these cases and think of vanilla ice...
these other guys, these crusaders?
               you can't call one the jihad martyrs
and the other: enigmas of the fruition
       of the castrato complex "losers"...
        losers? losers work part time jobs or
whatever category of existence might tick
all the boxes of the criteria...
            there's still no proper term for it,
  but this self-mutilating culture of christianity
began with a man riding into jerusalem
on a donkey... so donkey's years...
   the more the media smears them as that,
the more secular "identities" are attributed
to certain instances of their emergence,
   the more it agitates the next psychotic wasp
hive of swarming thoughts in an another "loser"...

when behring breivik did what he did,
   the russian nationalists encored him as a hero...
and i still don't know why the message
he sent was such an "enigma"...
          pay up for your decadence or your
children (of the ruling class) get it...
         sometimes these real world commentaries
of events that have happened are
so unnecessary in my part of the world,
they are there because these events happened...

even though we bypassed the publishing
authorities,
   it has just become a case of
                   **** vitro in domus vitro -
which is why i never intended to make any
internet profiling based upon the faux pas of façade.

it usually happens when a fly in mid-autumn still manages to fly through my window, and given that i'm currently smoking rolled tobacco (an art form, which my grandfather always admired me for, having perfected it), i've turned into a kind of slob, tobacco in my pockets, tobacco on the windowsill, tobacco on my books... it's almost like dust, i don't know how it gets from (a) to (b) of said places, however careful i am when rolling, there's always some loose strings of it lying around - as said: by locomotive breath: choo choo!

another thing that happens while drinking,
just take today for example, today,
woke at 11 am after sitting up to 6 am,
having exhausted my prescription sleeping pills,
turning to the painkiller naproxen
for, pretty much the same effects...
    naproxen man: da'h bomb, the goon in
the pharma rainbow...
  what? i studied chemistry, i'm not ashamed
of using what i could have synthesised
had there been no women in my class with
me being down-graded...
500mg of this baby, and you're suckling
at the **** of mother night -
i really would like to write down the ******
expression of a baby suckling at its mother's
***, the mooch mooch sucky sucky no fucky
sort of weirdness of the selfie duck pout...
how does that one go?
and then, momentarily, i get an injection
of intoxication, i mean genuine intoxication,
a glee in the eye, a wry smile,
   and a tornado for a thought...
    i can't seem to master the pompousness
of reading philosophy, frankly,
with the books i read, i can't,
   because so few people have read the originals
and simply *ctrl c ctrl p did justice,
via the people who read them,
  but even these people are hard to find,
because, at it seems:
      after reading a work of such majesty,
you rarely have a coherent argument,
what you get is a narrative,
   which takes the back-alley route, and sometimes,
just sometimes, the few essential
bits & bobs pop out, i call them less
regurgitated maxims perfected for a mundane
"critique" / "understanding" of a work,
and more: jack-in-box-but-guess-which-box-
jack-is-in-when-rummaging-throug­h-a-warehouse-
of-boxes...
        it's either a game of greek roulette -
or plain dumb lottery, your pick.
    but then it creeps up, this drunken sensation
akin to way back in the old days
when actually did get drunk and have
hangovers...
                   i checked my weight too,
115kg way back... 110.8kg today:
       wow! i'm a slimming jim-joe genius!
****, beside the point...
          in vitro, in vivo,      &? in vino!
it's all chinese fireworks when i sit down
and read the genre of philosophy,
  like i said, i don't need to make this a pompous
affair, method acting, for sure,
  just pretend to be stupid and you'll
end up loving this genre...
      mind you, at school i was better at history
than i was at chemistry or biology,
even though i went beyond high school
to edinburgh to major in chemistry,
  it was obvious that i took to reading philosophy
like a gun to a barrel filled with fish...
can't miss 'em...
                 but i esp. enjoy reading, say,
heidegger's ponderings, when i become frustrated
at not being able to solve a sudoku puzzle,
or when i try to escape to some mundane
the times on sunday magazine article that
just feels like washing my eyes with
a toothbrush dipped in wasabi...
                 it's like: ugh, and oh, and huh?
and then the tears come...
          and to be honest i have no idea what
heidegger just wrote, point being -
if you want "coherency" in language,
you read the linear genre - a novel!
        you want a breath of fresh air,
  and some alone time without a reality-check
gravity thought-pattern dragging you
into the everyday, + a sigh? you read a poem
(or try not to, given all that free space
in poetry, no wonder novels in paragraphs
can feel so claustrophobic by comparison)...
and i hate cute, pooches, coochies, itchies,
'oochies... whatever...
but it was the already stated italics -
   in vitro: in glass, yourself looking out,
looking in,
      in vivo: in life, yourself looking in,
looking out,
   in vino: just looking at veritas,
                                                       i.e. truth;
and the former two do sound very much
like george harrison's greatest contribution
to the beatles' oeuvre with
  the hyper-hippy train wreck to india that
was within you, without you...
no wait... it might have been that groove
with studio pagol's take on rain on yours...
jiggy jiggy jove, jiggy jiggy remix by jove jr.
so why do so few people read philosophy,
as an equal genre of literature
   with the same plateau stature as novels
and poetry and all the art books and what not?
1. it contains too many questions,
2. you really don't know what the person
    is implying,
3. its the primordial / archetypal form of
      subversion (socrates was a spartan in
      athens when the two factions were
      at their necks),
4. it's technical, in that, it's non-reproducible,
    in that it's also always original (if
    written with a spirit of authenticity),
5. it sometimes whirls in a language akin
     to sentences that read, much like
     chemistry: CH3OH etc.
6. it's non-linear narration, always backtracking,
    or layering, akin to geology,
    orthodoxically known as systematisation,
7. unlike nietzsche: i find systematisation
    an honesty, because systematisation is
    not a dishonesty, but a pulverisation of
    a single point on the wheel,
    i.e. it's the representation of the tangent...
    and as the world rotates,
      times change, whatever "metaphor" you
care to desire as implicitly as this "poem" -
      well, the ever fleetingly touching,
              but forever meteorically fleeing;
8. it's written in a language of thought,
  rather than action,
           therefore the grammatical category
   of the verb is practically missing,
purposively, since action as much as talk
is not an extension of thinking -
  why? how many mindless acts, enigmas
surround us (lost vegas?), and how much
idle babble in the houses of parliament?
9. god... every sensible philosophy book
does not avoid the:
  noun inside a noun inside a noun inside
ad infinitum...
      as such: to me god is a paraphrase -
the sharpening of a thesaurus,
  or, to better mention -
               to narrow the thesaurus in order
to find one's on vocabulary bank...
one's authentic storage of words -
  that does not deviate as it sometimes does,
so ****** obvious, by novelists who
sometimes reach for that "smart" word that sticks
out like a fifth limb in a sentence
  on the odd occassion;
  and why is god a paraphrase to me?
  look how many times that concept has been
reworded,
   the jews have a name for him,
       the prime 7 and the esoteric 72...
   the hindus have more gods than actual
names for a single deity,
    the christians don't have the father's name,
   the muslims bak bak hark allahu and then
miss the other 99...
         to me the best version is to call it by
way it really is: ditto.
- and now off to making hamburgers and chips.

As I reach the last stair,
I discover a high rise shrine
When I stare at the peak,
I'm close to fall on my head

It has a large baroque door,
Not closed, so I enter
I leave all the maps outside
I'm full of spice and zeal

I see an elevator facing me,
push the illuminated buttons,
envelope myself in the dove,
and it takes me as a letter

Into the highest floor, I fly
When I land on the terrace,
the man made-day falls asleep,
and the night sky erupts

I find an abandoned telescope,
remove the dust mask,
put my brown seeing aerola
around the soft eyepiece

The silver optical tube
absorbs my golden vision,
takes it on a celestial mission
Delving into the cosmos in chroma

I see a lumen hanging
like a washing line
between two galaxies
An odyssey to discover my heirloom

Now I'm a brainbox,
I surrender myself to
this luminous flux
It looks like a feeder of earth

Everything turns anaerobic,
when Angeline and her siblings
begin to play trumpets along
A hymn for the Oxygen Crisis

I put all the aerobics in vitro,
in order to live in vivo
I'm in the S shaped column,
the centromere of the soma

In a blink of an eye,
an asteroid hits my lighthouse
My kernel explodes
I'm trapped in a series of epochs

My nom de guerre is Helios
The sun calls me Apollo
Driving a chariot of joy
with two racing horses

Until meiosis begins
A king is announced
when a stallion dies
Nucleus or karyon

And I drop back as an ****
Embryo into an egg
thrown in a steam
From Eve to a man sunk in debt

well i just love the self-laceration in western society,
because it just makes sense ot keep him hanging
on that tree like it would make sense to keep him
shopping in ikea; no wonder i’ve been drunk for
the past seven years... doing sanity sober with you
was like doing anything else with you... almost half
but i halt to say that: completely crap. can i have solipsism
depopulated please?! i’d like to know my self with a thought
that was not entouraged with you or your mother-in-law
scuffling for a chance she might be rid of you...
next time you have a mother and live with her
because of the escalating house prices in order to ****
and be ashamed with... i’ll tell you to be ashamed of not
being a scientific embryo originating from vitro if anything,
to be honest... worth living; but i’m sure you originated prior
to this wording... and once you have, you have subsequently
defended the gray accumulation that provided you with
a higher answer that found these words in a desert,
dying of thirst of that famous thirst known as silence.

If I care about the fate of the innocent,
be they killed as innocent bystanders or killed in vitro,
and I vote accordingly, I am called the religious zealot.

Then, when I vote for life,
irrespective of my reason for voting there,
I am labeled with phobias, angry, and mean.

When I vote my conscience,
With respect to my own beliefs,
I am attacked by those who call themselves tolerant.

The blatant reality says that if you agree
They give you tolerance, false love, and Little peace,
For a short time, and now, they feast on ******* birds

nothing warms the heart as a butter-scrub
of prokofiev on a dull & uneventful life,
i'm still to fathom the mastering mystery,
but lieutenant kijé romance
always makes my ***** into an omelette,
and for all the wrong reasons:
i like it, joked aside, it almost like
watching a monkey play the trumpet
in the odd joke of jazz quarter (
antithesis of the punk power 3)
with the elephant... ****... what would
the elephant do given the ability
of a trunk?!
          tap dance, or attempt a pirouette?
i love the she said he said questions,
she said: madam butterfly, he said
      la traviata...
he cried, she simply stared at two russian
girls making airs,
talking handbags and their usual
schoolyard deal about a chubby nose,
which she did, and we would have
wishes to actually bite...
         i hate those nationalist tourists,
chopin means as much to as a need
for chop-sticks...
                          its 4 30 in the morning
and i still have to drink something...
and do i love her?
well, i love writing about her quirks,
would i love siberia?
would i love anywhere without her?
i'd probably love dr. zhivago in either
spanish, or kazah...
     hands up: i am having
a literary love affair, and i pray to
gott that she's making a competitive
counter to my shallow affair of not
inviting enough pubescent imagination
counter imaginative girls to my camp...
that despised number by men,
you know they're only teen girls
keeping the jailbirds swarming in jitter...
they do grow up...
      and then you throw in a fake
muse into the bargain,
and then you keep hiding the real muse,
more and more,
               her nose becomes your
obsession, foremost because it's russian,
and second-most because she wants
to be rid of it...
     say it how it is, heaven awaits those
who manage to upkeep a truth on earth,
hell is filled with perpetuated liars,
and there's no greater story that the devil
minds than a lie upon lie,
upon the grandest of lies: that
his realm is but a poetic "indifference"...
i will drag my bride into the depth of
behemoth and call it bohemia...
     i will have my words: forgive me
echo by the church bells of the church
of mariacki in cracow...
           she can argue all the wants,
she will be as unwilling at my quest for
that eternity tasted in st. petersburg
once upon a time...
        and all that muzak near the fountainheads
will means at little as the fact that:
prokofiev was actually loved...
and that tchaikovsky was a degenerate
peasant...
    and for ever what my poetry i wrote,
she reaches her 80th b.d.,
       i will not mind the same "respect",
i've visited a brothel...
   came s.t.d. free...
           if there are 72 virgins waiting
the islamic martyrs,
   i'm trying to keep count of the prostitutes
in the harem of crusaders...
i just about scratched off the word malta
from a t-shirt, just so i could get
the hospitalier crux remaining...
       and have a field trip of double-glossing
in mirror the fervent journalistic
        somewhat, or other of "compensation";
then again,
              verbis ultimatus, est verbis omni
dignitas custodia;
don't even ask me how i conjured up
the phrase,
     unless you replicate the same in vino,
and call in vitro veritas / in vivo veritas
to question.

There are no flowers standing in my garden.
I find them resting underground.
I believe they sleep in silence.
Avoiding the cold.
Not missing the frost.

They hide inside bulbs.
Buried, as if deceased.
Come the sunlight in spring time after being ladies in waiting.
Dressed in spring green they may peep up, first as tiny shoots.
Faces beautiful, they shall surely follow.
Lest they sadly drowned in vitro.
(C)LIVVI