zza okrogląnym (stół
z powyłamywanymi nogami)
ogonem jak smok
w szept kręgosłup przed i w przeciwku
kościosłup'a zwanym krzyż:
te naiwne ocza węża
w futrze:
będą gniewem
na wiele isrk które
zapalą hektary igieł lasu:
i tyle, skoro on robi nic
to wiele nadejdzie -
a ja w nadzei nic zrobie takrze,
tzn. to samo, czyli będe spać:
o wiele mniej zmarszczek
i o wiele więcej
marszu brzucha w śmiech:
na czele wojsk którymi
nie zdobęde chociaż jedną walkę.

ale czysto w tej E - U - Ρ - Ω - Π - J - Η.

islam leiben historie, nicht Ottoman,
Ottoman pseudo Khan, islam leiben historie:
eins, zwei, drei und vierte maulkor'bzeugè'naussagé
(sausage marathon); they love their history
mind you ψι and τρι...  kaganiec u stóp w
krok stu odpowiedzi w jedną droge:
raz jeszcze, w las i w cienie iglą tej tętnicy wybryk chęć
na gre, by zadać zbyteczne  pytanie! na odpowiedź
oskarzyć czas z wiedzą zegara,
i tą ostateczną, wartą końca, namylsnością...
ponownie oskarzyć jako począt narodu -
tylko golasa, warte imie kroka ka ka kar Kasymir'ah!
wedle Tsara, czołem w tło wymagań na wyryte
zapomnieniem lat: oddech'u Uzbeku chafta
wspomnień wiatru i chorongiew latawcy
jak niby urojen konceptu narodu...
ja człek tylko w psiarni! i tak powiem, tak,
wiara, panem na zbyt wiele pamięci Janosika
i Radio Maria;
o tyle czerpie zgon, ponownie, ponownie,
by ocalić, niby swiętego, i pogrzebać swój naród...
ale wstyd! wstyd! by ocalić jednego niby
swiętego, lecz nadać obszar rodem Polak'a
ponad Polske i w ramach Irlandie; jaki to wstyd
nawet ten mnie wart, co nie nada snu!
co za wstyd - nie warto umierać wiele razy,
kiedy ten ostatecny oznacza raz jeszcze -
                      *quo vadis, qua lectio? -
ten raz jeszcze, i ten ostatni, o tyle wiele poradni
przed wieloma nocami snu.

Dzień dobry,  ok, ustalimy koszty na 100 egz. zajmę się tym po świętach, bo będę wyjeżdzać. Wiem, że miał Pan prawo zwątpić, ale w Polsce inaczej mimo wszystko podchodzi się do poezji, mam wrażenie, że tu nadal jest ona ważna. Bardzo wiele wydaje się tomików poetów - amatorów, są oni zrzeszeni w klubach poetyckich. Cieszę się, że Pan ma też swoich czytelników, to super, myślę, że tomik Pana zadowoli i oczywiście wieczorek z poezją też. Może uda się Panu przyjechać ? ale to jeszcze dalsza perspektywa, mama mówiła, że może sierpień. Pozdrawiam.*

oczywiście, skoro pani prosi, przyjade... wiem, ta niesfoboda różnic perspektyw, na zachodzie jest ważna muzyka, ta forma ubustwa poezji... rym na rym na rym etc. ile czasu jest potrzebne tyle racze zgodą i kiwaniem głowy, nie chce sie wpraszać z tą obawą zaniedbania... w sumie nie ja wykonuje tą "brudną" robote publikacji. oraz dziękuje za brak formalności z tymi słowami przed moimi... chociaż rękopis by wiele więcej wykrył w ramach odpowiedzi, tzn. czułosci; jednym słowem: dziękuje.

transcript from a cult movie

bolec: O! zobacz bracie! spójrz jak oni sie ruszają; nie sądisz że polskim chłopakom też by sie przydało troche luzu? przykómaj te kocie ruchy! mogliśbymy sie od czarnych wiele nauczyć... koko-dzambo i doprzodu! to moje hasło, dobre nie? czasami żauje że nie urodziłem sie czarny. hej! chłopaki! a może macie ochote objerzeć film? ja ogłądam po kilka filmów dziennie: pościgi, strzelaniny, wojny gangów, to mój chleb codzienny... mam nowy zajebisty film... "smierc w Wennecji", nieźle brzmi, co?                spokojnie, zaraz sie rozkręci...

fred: ty jak ty sie nazywasz bo zapomniałem? kolec? stolec?

bolec: bolec.

fred: no, więc posłuchaj mnie teraz uważnie, bolek... byłeś w stanach?

bolec:  nie...

fred: no właśnie... a ja znam kogoś kto był... i opowiedział mi to i owo... w iesz skąd przyjechali czarni do ameryki?!?

bolec:  z afryki...

fred: no właśnie... handlarze niewolników przywieźli ich z Afryki... A myślisz, że to taka prosta sprawa wysiąść na plaży w Afryce, złapać w siatkę zwinnego, silnego murzyna i wywieźć go za ocean?!?

bolec:  chyba nie...

fred: no jasne, że nie... udało im się to zrobić ponieważ wywozili tylko takich co albo nie potrafili spierdolić przed siatką, albo byli największymi głąbami z plemienia i wódz sprzedawał ich za paczkę fajek, bo i tak nie miałby z nich pożytku. i ci wszyscy nieudacznicy pojechali do ameryki. pożenili się, porobili dzieci... świat poszedł do przodu... pojawiły się komputery, amfetamina, samoloty, ale co z tego, jeżeli ich serca pompują tę samą krew, są potomkami człowieka, który na własnym podwórku dał się złapać w siatkę, więc nie uważam, że naszym chłopakom brakuje luzu... kapujesz?!?

and it takes just another big **** to have a one night stand,
and a big enough heart to have a relationship
so the soul enmeshes the juices - that famous
W.D. 40 moment - and a cheap U.B. 40 moment too -
it's a drag like that, he can run a 100 metres in under
10 seconds, but when he swims you just hear
dolphin cackling in the background - not **** aqua
for sure, that's me, with the myth of Atlantis -
orderly, please! line up! take your badges and disperse,
we'll be back here again at the fire-evacuation point
in the the near future - in the meantime do whatever
it is you do, and do it. shame really - you ever see
the fire equipment of 1666? a large water bucket...
people either had a lot of common sense back then
or had magnanimous airs about them
(see how many lawsuits were made in the past decade),
primitive technology - i guess people thought a lot
back then... no talk of dementia - they were hardly literate
but they thought a lot, becoming literate meant
becoming aristocratic degenerates - excess wine, *******
***, scab and crawling ***** on the cranium
intended as barbers - then too many synonyms came,
you said barber and he knew the beard and moustache
was an extension of the head - sure, softer keratin, the harder
version being - i've ***** on my face! i've ***** on my face!
short and briskly - freshly mowed lawn... mm, nice -
fiddle the other part, i'll take a Sikh's beard and make a
violin's bow on the sly - see how Mozart sounds after
that. the Mongol stank and conquered the Alexandrian
Dream - before the arrows pierced, the stench overpowered.
it's just a dreaded affair - in order to give pleasure
i have to give my inner life up - the Greeks called it
barbarism the over way round - words from a *******
as if implying i get really jealous and bring out a knife -
the wonderful phenomenon of the schizoid condition,
or as prior worded, premature dementia, yet such people
continue to be fully functioning in a sense -
language debris - a meteor's tail - politicised psychiatry -
the easy route - say the noun hammer and you know
exactly what to do, unless it's Heidegger's hammer
and you realise he's implying two labourers talking
philosophy while working manually - in that
the ego (nail) should be hammered into a plank
of wood (thought) as easily as the reverse - the reverse
being the hammer (extended into the profession that
uses it frequently - i, carpenter) utilised (being, a) -
i.e. i, being a carpenter, nails, hammering in.
i didn't think this through - what's bugging my certainty
in how to explain it without conversation between
two carpenters discussing philosophy, which never happens,
is not what i'm bothered with, the real issue is i have
with the inherent negativism of subjectivity in English
interpretation of philosophy, crudely:
subjectivity is bad, wrong, self-indulgent, pseudo -
this stress in English thinking with its glorification of
objectivity is, to be honest, strange...
it comes from a book review of Wagner's Ring of
the Nibelung - equatable words: banal and subjective -
banal - trite - well given the "success of the human species"
i'm surprised it's not a universal truth that
we've come a bit trite given the numbers - i've seen
cucumbers fresher than people, we're bound by
an approximate of 70 springs, cucumbers are bound
by 1 spring, you get fresh in a supermarket,
you don't get fresh in books, what with the third butterfly
species σκoνιςμυγα (skonismyga - so not -muga?
up Saigon? i thought you cut off the bits you didn't
want and put the other letters with the cut offs together?
no wonder - upsilon [u] isn't said - just like in Latin
in English we have why - iota not y - dust-fly, i guess
Babylon did survive, in the variations disguising "dyslexia")...
but why is subjectivity so horrid? i thought
we all had our take on things and none of us wanted
to speak for the whole of humanity? Nietzsche warned
and defended individualism like that - who
would want to speak for the entirety of humanity?
in the political realm in the west subjectivity is defended
rigorously - because if you begin championing objectivity
in politics the Iraq Invasion was a bit stupid -
despotism, d'uh - yet in England the tradition is to
have a culture of literature that shuns subjectivity
and champions objectivity - why is subjectivity so
negatively perceived? oh, you're afraid someone is
so ardent on their choice of interest they they might
by accident speak-spit into your face?
subjectivity can't be so ****** negative, it's an expression
of an escape from what objectivity already
defined in the pinnacle by Descartes: res cogitans,
(a) thinking thing - we only write subjectively because
we've been caged in that little no. 2 of a waiter's james
bond tux - we staged an escape, a self-worth fanaticism
on the subjects we love rather than "have to" investigate
without passions, just hubris - which is what
critics use - hubris, disdain - the study of language could
have a similitude to the math of
1 (hubris) and x 1 = hubris, 1 and x 2 = audacity, etc.
in the synonymous table - the lubricant factor.
so, anger over, back to Heidegger's hammer -
nail (ego)            plank of wood (thought)
hammer (therefore)                   a table (existence) -
so why need proofs? why do i need to prove i necessarily
exist (when i don't) or that god unnecessarily exists
(when he does) - why prove something?
so another million schmucks can come along and
prove it either way? it's the nonsense attributed to
Descartes - he stressed an impossible objective-subjectivity
(grammatically more understandable, rigid:
noun-noun doesn't work, ah, objective-subjectiveness -
noun-adjective, pencil-sharpener, pencil-needs-sharpening)
in terms of others - hence the existential other -
well impossible for anyone else to have thought it up,
the impasse of wanting to plagiarising it - a real cul de sac -
well, that's me done on the topic - sonic -
as far as i'm concerned most people keep rigidity
a tight collar of using language not coming across a speedy
suggestion to not think about:
the speed-game of preposition juggling and contras etc.,
the acquisitive use of a language v. the inherited use of a language,
two different ballparks - what i acquired i thus express,
what the organically-historic entity inherited he
will primarily convene to call Poles vermin - a little
perplexed by a more labyrinth style of language used -
it gets personal day by day - but of course the ******* are
a protected species due to their colonial roots - at least
with skin-shallow discrimination you have the obvious bang,
and the immediate retort... this **** is swelling, slowly...
slowly... slowly... those were 8 million or so
Polish-Jews... also vermin... this **** already imploded...
it hasn't exploded... it's a dummy bomb... it imploded...
it's swelling... slowly... slowly... slowly... and when you
won't know it... BANG!

and you now see what they made me do? i'd never thought it would come to this, that i had to crawl back to the mainland of europe to find a publisher, because the appreciation of publishing poetry in england is null, nil, zero, nothing, a mustard seed's worth of hope; this mediation of saving the amazon rainforest to save up on paper and the first yawn of the digital age, among cat videos and ****, there you have it, a massive blotch on the intended utility of this **** thing - i'm not even angry any more, just ****** nervous - or as the old writer said in his appreciation of poverty and feeling guilty concerning what he deemed to be his riches (a record collection and a private library): happy trails kids.*

Droga Pani Anno,

przepraszam za popszedni email, mianowicie że był on bez poważnej formy i tematyki, taki po prostu skrutem. Lecz przez osiem lat nie-ustannego pisania, pisząc do osoby w pozycji umożliwienia publikacji wkroczyła we mnie trema opisywania rzeczywitości - tzn. kiedy widze śledząc pisanie innych poetow na internecie - i tą marude znaną jako rozczarowanie jeżeli chodzi o szanse publikacji, nie tylko jednego wiersza w magazynie poetickim, a o całej książce własnych wierszy to już ża dużo można powiedziec o aborcji dalszych i utrzymanych ambicji. Myśle wiec ze 100 egzemplarzy nie jest asz tak nie realistyczne, wiem że poezja snuci swą muzyke dla nie wielu czytelkników, określone najlepiej dwoma obserwaciami: w angielskich gazetach można spotkać recenzje książek na wiele tematów (autobiografie najczęsciej), lecz o poezji praktycznie nic, oraz fakt że nie dawno tylko jedna książka poezji osiągneła sprzedaż ~10,000 egzemplarzy w Angli - a mówie że 100 nie jest nie realistyczne poniewarz na jednej stronie (hellopoetry.com) mam około 40 zawziętych czytaczy - 936 wierszy i wszytkie przeczytane przez tą skromną kadre - a na facebook.com mam 178 znajomych których poznałem czy to na uniwersytecie czy też w szkole. Tak, a więc 100 egzemplarzy.

Mateusz Conrad E.

as i once told a woman nearest to me
whom i was part of for a cycle of 9 months...
nie wyprowadzaj mnie z równowagi jak inni...
osiem lat słucham i wszystko co słysze to gówno...
wilk i lis ze mnie nie ulotni się bym nawet nie mówił jak jeden
z nich, dziki i wsciekły... moje słowa bedą jak kły!
(wiele partii czy tam głosów... prawdziwa demokracja)
przepraszam... nie raczej nie... SORRY (typowo angielskie
podejście na wszystko, dwu twarzowiec^)  że twój ojciec
sporzywał alkohol na imprezach... dla mnie alcohol to sedatywa.
^chociaż irlandczyk natyle głupi aby być dosłowny
i tępy jak kamień (na nim wszystko można
zaostrzyć - wkluczono wzrok, zgubione
okulary na czole wciąż) nawet w substancji kundla;
a to za gitare "maciupki" janie.

Siedząc tutaj, w chwili przemyślenia,
Mając takie wielkie marzenia,
Daje mi to wiele do myślenia,
Ty i Twoje dziwne zapatrzenia.

W chwili smutku i goryczy,
Twoje imię w głowie syczy,
Dalej łzawie, kraje serce,
A Ty stroisz się w sukięce.

Tyle bólu, smutku, draki,
Twe serce wyrzuci mnie za fraki,
Pieniądz, władza i igraszki,
Bedzie spektakl z mej poraszki.

tybi Bo'*** ciebie potseb: od tego zaklęcia w nagie rogi ostrzem wbić, wygnaniem ja dziecie a tych Lachów zbyt wiele, bo dorośli, laughter at the polish plumbers i ta WIOCHA UCZONYCH! uconych... tsa tsa wedle tsara!

as one Cossack said according to Shakespeare's
titus andronicus
said *titus:
what fool hath added water to the sea
(if it be unsalted, i could understand such a fool
pouring a glass of water into lakes and rivers,
but did he mention salted water or unsalted?),
or brought a ****** to bright-burning Troy?
this defines the 21st century, this quote
(minus the bracket insertion)
from the early obscure play when performed at
the globe over 100 people fainted...
this quote defines modernity,
what fool would bring thinking into an arena
of so many discoveries! what fool would
dare to pour his own thought into the sea
of knowledge! well, maybe it sounds better in reverse,
but it doesn't, given the Socratic nothing bluff
having knowledge of undermining dialectics
rather than knowledge of nothing... ******* bluff...
the 21st century speaks like titus' exclamation...
pour a glass of water into the sea and
no fish will succumb as it might to a fishing-net...
bring a ****** to bright-burning Troy and it will
still not prevent Nero playing the lyre while
Rome is prevented from being a camp-fire that
warms the closely associated, yet disperses and
invokes panic... replicated thought original by
Nietzsche and the madman with a candle
in the marketplace at noon thinking he could
prove god or create the candle's shadow...
we're so, so bound to plagiarise, i fear that humanity
fears the onslaught of plagiarism and replicas
more than death... for plagiarism is so time-consuming
it takes a whole lifetime in order to lie to yourself,
while with death the immortals lie to us too being
immortal with a snap of their fingers, and, we're, gone!
indeed the 21st century is likening bringing a torch
to the burning Troy (London 1666) or pouring water
into the sea (Xerxes' madness lashing the sea for
obedience)... the 21st century just said:
what fool bring his own thought and postcard it
as of any worth to be mentioned as an addition
in the bank vault of savings, of knowledge that
the 21st century self-assurance has claimed to be
as zenith and no further attempt to climb
a miscarriage of physics and entry into metaphysics?
what fool dare usurp the savings of our prior inquiry?
by mere thinking?! who dare he claim to be?
what knowledge is he to provide by mere thought?!
perhaps a woman out there, not known to
the associates of the royal society of physicians might know...
but why bother with such hopes... let's leave it
as a stone upon stone could have been a stoneman
if idiotic prowess of man over cat snout and
missing mandible thumbs didn't instruct him to
construct a pyramid... then i'd **** into a sand dune
a hundred times and mould you father time.

i sometimes read the "elitist" poems and poets of
poetry-foundation-dot-org...
and i wonder...
well: there's no real distinction between
the "ancient": pre-technological-mass-reproduction
anticipatory essay of Walter Benjamin
of awe: find the Louvre and the Mona Lisa...
awe... such a tiny painting and...
awesome... entertainment value of what used
to be entertainment value of movies...
i do love the grit of 1970s cinema...
the 1980s futurist macho-"fascism"...
hell... even the 1990s had some great flicks
a great round-off of the medium...

a LAYLA BENITEZ-JAMES
translates a BEATRIZ MIRALLES DE IMPERIAL

such words are: not borrowed
or rather: in ****** it's A in Deutsche its Z...

jestem otwartą raną
języka

mówić tak nie wiele boli

-

ich bin ein offen wunde
von sprache

zu sagen so klein weh tun

-

apparently it never hurt the Chinese drunken
poet-monks to write anecdotal
syllable counted observations
concerning seeing a blue moon
with drunken-blood-shot eyes...

the Japanese or Chinese poets never complained
that they didn't have a novel in them,
quiet the reverse of this scenario...
there's the budding novel yet to be written
by a poet...
   is there?
a true meditation... a few words...
no need for a novel... an eternity of thought
mingling with everyday tasks
and then... hopefully: a spontaneity of
laughter recalling words akin to...

no kanji, no hiragana...
back to square, one: katakana...
katakana Ki - tan - ah...

   フルイケ    ヤ
     カワズ     トビコム
   ミズ    ノ      オト

no oto: the sound...
i'm guessing water is... mizu: return to
kanji: a returning from to:
   水 a word as picture...

but there's no budding novelist in here,
nor is there pain...
frog: カエル (kaeru) is not a picture-word,
it is a word-sound...

              self-explanatory "bias"...

ワタシ (watashi - i am)
      フショー     シタ      (fushoo shita - wounded tongue)
i absolve myself from entertaining
any conspiracies of entertainment
for the mass of later: distinction...

alternative route while cycling:

サイクリング (saikuringu)
    air, open mind...
wind: my soul - a silence
a lost intrusiveness of the helplessness
of others...
            クーキ
                        アイタ (aita) マインド (maindo)
カゼ (kaze, wind):
stone for heart...
               イシ (ishi, stones)
                              ココロ (kokoro, hearts)...
trickle... like sand... from desert
by time: a mountain!

        ヤマ:
                         yama - mountain...
parrot in the snow...
        オーム  (oomu)
                               ノ
                 ユキ (no... yuki)...

oh **** no... i'm not moving to Tokyo...
i don't want to speak fluent Japanese...
i just want to escape what i last saw
in the feminist panel on Vice News...
i'll ensure that Japanese is like me
in that film about the mad genius mathematician
of the film Pi... i'll put a drill to my head
prior to having to somehow:
now insure myself concerning these
blaze... arguments of "reality" of:
Plato the Plumber and the reicarnation
blocked-toilet... sort-of-speak...
i'm ******* off to Japan...
at least thinking about how the "Samurai"
encode their speaking is a relief
when listening to this Iron Maiden
of "heroic" gymnastics of post-feminism...

i feel completely... oblivious to what's happening...
just today i took a very magnificent route....
i challenged myself...
it's not spring yet... it's not summer...
i'm not allowed the later hours of the day
reserved for these seasons...
Cold-harbour dumping ground next to the Thames
was willing me to do a lap...
ah... maybe next time...

the route? from Collier Row through to Hornchurch...
then onto Upminster...
from Upminster toward Aveley...
from Aveley toward Purfleet...
well... seeing the Dartford Bridge Crossing...
no wonder i could get my geography straight...
the Thames never feels south... even though
you're orientating it from the perspective of the north...
up to Rainham...
obviously i had to venture into the little village
of Wennington... the one that was burning
only August of last year...
because... hey... it's not global warming...
a return to the ice age i reckon...
this little Arab interlude and palms will last only
so long...
my god... burned down houses...
get me a ticket to 1990s Sarajevo!
   that's how bad it looked... they're still clearing
up the mess...

from Rainham back toward Hornchurch and via Harold
Wood toward Harold Hill...
i know there's a Paris... i was a teenager in love
with Stendhal and i visited Paris solo...
i know there's a Paris but i'm starting to think:
maybe: MAYBE there is a "Paris"?
just maybe... this is London on the outskirts this isn't
London for television...

コドク (aloneness - kodoku):
        (existence with everyone)
ソンザイ    ト
           ゼンタイ            (sonzai to zentai)

nope... i'm not learning fluent Japanese...
i'm not going to travel to Japan to pay
taxes, to buy ******* sushi
and feel: a part of apart...
however boldly bad: grammatically...
i hear some ******* argument in
the western sphere... i start to scribble
katakana... i look into the scripts from India...
hell... i go as near as Greek allows...
i morph Latin with European additions
of diacritical markers...
i don't want to be constipated by an "argument":
or lineage of: ******* arguments of people
who have... zero... absolutely no...
inclinations how funny it all must be...
for someone misdiagnosed as schizophrenic
circa 2008... looking at the year 2023
almost gleefully... Beelzebub rubbing his *****
hands... the madman turned out to be...
pretty sane... given the current currency of
consensus!

    i have not invested in having children:
care to complain? me neither...
am i earning enough money to complain that my
money is going toward up-keeping
the mistakes of single-mothers? no...
i'm earning enough for a solo escapade...
i don't earn enough to be taxed!
i stopped drinking...
i can start imitating the bear in the realm
of a perpetual winter of contentment...
i can realise an ape imitating a bear:
i can exist-hibernating...
                            if i don't need to go to the cinema:
what's the point? i can...
go and see an art exhibition and wonder...
once at the paintings...
second at the old women trying to push
these young girls into my orbit as if implying:
go talk to him...
  but i'm here to admire the paintings, aren't i?!
am i here for a date?!

plus... i don't need to own a car...
i can cycle to almost anywhere in London of my own
volition and ease of exercise...
i don't need to spend money on *******
that most women would spend money on...
i have a recycling fetish...
i have little ambitions of curios adventures that
don't really require me to stress hard-pressed
constant hard-ons to compete with other men...
if i really feel like it...
i'll declare *** for recreational purposes as:
probably most boring...
given the adventures of cycling and swimming...
but if must-be-must...
hell... the brothel with me and it's all over:
proven point... in an hour's worth...

i am a truly liberated man...
thank you woman, for showing me the path...
your liberation has liberated me beyond
your wildest anticipations!
i am once and for all, truly freed from the precursors
of what freedom might have tasted like...
if not for the social-stigma of the bachelor status...

フリーダム (furiidamu - freedom)
                  ハイカイ (haikai - loitering)
スワル (suwaru, sit) -
                  ハクシュ (hakushu - extol)

perhaps one of the last few glitches in
the youtube algorithm...
i once mentioned the channel
    hakiri ditari...
               looks like... 666MrDoom is feeding
me up-to-speed 2020 releases...

beside the point...
           brain for fudge... packing...
no exoskeleton to crawl into and become mush...
even if... ms. amber dresses herself
in a cancan attire of a bourbon tongue:
slick...

no real geometry for a god, no god...
thought... here: jigsaw says 'ello...
      and bye-bye...
           when the body is fully retailed...
for the debt to be paid...
for the worth of day...
when all bones are given the ol'
arithmetic... and some new muscles
are discovered: that... "once upon a time"
were treated like mollusks
on the dodo-pact of exodus from existence...

a snail exists...
   i, man: insist...
          a vicious cycle...
          a stone a moon a sea simply is...
a snail exists...
i, as man: insist!
               the golden calf is coming...
i'll look more mediterranean by the day...
i'll become indistinguishable from
the... libyans... or the greeks...
sacarcens or... whatever float me boat:
that particular day...

   lucky me... vamp in december...
i truly can't remember when i last sported
a farmer's suntan!
i'm... white?!
         pass the porky crux of burn...
avaricious suntan...
          suntan... not heretic... antynom...
ah!                    fa'n'ah'tic!
       suntan fanatic... briefly...
               this year... because?
what a strange spring we've been having in
england... no one can remember
such a glorious april! no one can cite
to memory: such a blissfull may!
              i'm white as a... what remains
of the boar: through a pig...
and into what becomes leather... shoes...
and a leather belt...

   everything is treated as an economic gain:
everything: except for the oink...
pig ears are a delight in manhattan... apparently...
if only the pig had...
   crude... camel... hardened toes:
well... you wouldn't eat them...
or bite your own...
bite your nails but find gagging mechanisms
when it's not a fly... but a hair...
floating in your soup...

                 exoskeleton of the body...
or for: the body... god, thought, soul...
sorry... i was too busy today...
i was so into using this brilliance of a...
    magnusson hand-saw...
that... well... it looks like i "forgot" to
check my "other" blood-pressure...
or... i want to reach the point of maturity
where jerking off will be too boring...
where: like today...
the hand can be used for better things
than checking for impotence...
or... frost-bite on this tundra of love in:
zee...         westliche länder...
   hyphen? westliche-länder...
no hyphen compound? westlicheländer?
hyphen? westliche-länder...
no hyphen compound? westlicheländer

i.e. heidegger ponderings VII
"aphorism" XXIII...
         'why do the french have an academically
governed language'

i was just about to ask a... similar question:
why is english a shotgun (shrapnel)
of german...
  moreover: why is german a chemistry-noun
enterprise compounding fudge-patchwork?
more so: why are there remains
of german in english in chemistry...
only there... are there blatant distrusts
of hyphens...
                       dihydrotestosterone...
in english...
              freundschaftsbezeigungen        
in dutch deutsche: no... no dutch...

hyphenated / compounded... myopic i...
    shrapnel 'oi! over 'ere!
                     painting and... laying bricks...
contra...

  hand-saw? well... that could be up for
an oxford dictionary consideration...
the first stage is an inquiry for a hyphen basis...
hand saw has to make entry as: hand-saw...
before it can tease... the german...

    hand saw / wood saw...
                      either way: shrapnel at first:
petition to the oxford dictionary:
it might get a hyphen: precursor to the proper
compound...
                       handsäge / holzsäge...

handsaw / woodsaw...
                   umlaut adam-isch:
ä - yes... sage and thyme (surds of bindi) -
and rosemary... sa'g'eh...
    rose mary: rose-mary: rosemary...
                   all that is required?
a plural article and a pronoun:
    i saw hands!
                        past participle of: seeing...
a mime!
            and no mimic... eh?
tough little brandenburgian-chesnut to
swollow: since: the proverb states:
if the swallows are flying high in the sky:
no chance of rain for tomorrow...

i tried to dissect a liter of bourbon
into 4... the best i could get away with was
a portion of 3...

the old germans and the new germans:
the prussians...
and the otherwise shy germans
of austria with the hungarians
in their bosoms...
to remember: when the prussians
and the lithuanians were the last
pagans of europe:
and the teutonic order...
having pickled barbarossa went back
home...
where to: mein herr?!
east: north... tease the rus!
           such is this old matriarch
of a continent... i have no expatriate
sentimentality of the english
fior italy... or the new found cheese fetishes
of the ****** women for...
i'm so obscure when it comes
to love affairs with the p.i.g.s. -
well... yeah... even greece...
                    rozpierdol mnie na serbii...
albo... macedonii... lepiej!
wrak na krymie! lepiej jeno nie wiele
lepiej!
    
      will there every come a time when
i'll fall in love with Warsaw?
        will there be a time...
when i pass through it...
   and not feel... like a paranoid schizophrenic?
east end of london...
    i submerge myself into what
a h. p. lovecraft couldn't stomach of
new york... and... no... none of that
eerie oddity of...

from under the iron curtain...
it's a make-shift of a sicilon veil and:
that joke about how copper-wire
was invented: two scots scoubbling
over a penny - stretching it...
and of course... the pandemonium
of the pill in rubber...
the hounds from under the iron curtain...
if only i was looking for
a marriage meme... if only:
most certainly - and love brings with it
that sort of certainty -

   you have to excuse me...
lost all ambitions to express a freedom
of speech with a video...
i much like kierkegaard's posit of what
writing allows:
where... is... the megaphone?
to write is to escape the often bout
of thought: beside the "narrative" of thinking
and its mingling with claustrophobia...

"too many" ukranians and mongols
in the parts of warsaw i've passed...
   and that... is hardly this...
disneyland of bubblegum and pink that
london provides with its...
deserving reach into...
how did the raj indians survive if not
bribe their way out with well-above-average
culiniary-skills?!
the spaniards and south h'american gold...
gold contra the spices...
blah blah...

ever hear a greek speak and forget he was
either greek or speaking greek
and think... outlandish of me... i must be...
speaking to a spaniard...
lisp signature 'ere... lisp signature v'er...
****-oh-little-me...
this world is too big for my little problems
and conquests of...
     propensity! it's like...
watching: four weddings and a funeral...
thinking that england, circa 1994...
was some sort of mythological land...

       i was ate... back in 1994... and i was in
Ęgland... yes: ******* liberals with that N
of yours... have your way with it...
Napelon or Nig()er...
bounce bounce: siamese twins:
twiTTing... giGGling...
                                                       gaLLoping...
     because... like... "never"..
   N-Dynamite wasn't a depiction of...
                        jeffrey dahmer -
the lesser: more sedated "if only" scenario...
"orthography": or a tux without
a bow-tie scenario...
because i still think of orthography as:
it would be desired...
to have some diacritical marks...
since... hydra: the hovering d(.)t
above... can be cut...
and there would be no clarifying certainty as
to a... noticed "difference"...
ȷokıng asıde... ȷust lıke so...

   mind's split: and the apostrophe?
a susan: i don't know...
well... cyrillic... please!

                Wojcicki (what's apparent)
                Вoйćıцkí (what's being revised; as...
                what's being: under- / over-stated)
    
         and no cyrillic! doubly please!

perhaps in exile - perhaps just scouting -
perhaps less an immigrant and perhaps
none of them: the above...

                             ottomans for supper?
anemic anglo-saxons for aperitifs?
                           right now...
                            "elsewhere" confirms
the same concerns for crux...
vector status as might: "being" and a "here"...
here: da... and now: jetzt...
                               clearly...
       some words as just pardonable in their
confines of english... they might as well
become relegated to the status of myth...
clouds... psychiatry and / or...
a spectacular gem to behold...
   not in real life... but in the acted
representation of a james murray...
                    
               this is hardly a medium to
bemoan... or to call forth lacklustre scrupules
of indolence... to breathe...
with these words... in a limbo of libido...
and what's happening "elsewhere"...
how shouldn't i pay a visit to a recess
of my mind... and make clusters of
a memory that erases all that comes forth
as... pitiable justice to further a hope
for eloquence... without all that:
of a desired / yet derided...
                                             etiquette...
the straitjacket contra the liberal arts
of attire... the catwalk seen-by-the-other...
the god the mystical "other"...

                    does... peeling an apple...
slicing it...
take away the joy... of eating it... with
each bite... with the skin intact?