you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
               utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
                                    anti-
                                            qua-      
                                                         -so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
                                Marxist-
liberal-
                                         Hegelian-
             whatnot...
                                                they don't
use abstract prefixes,
                                          their prefixes
are concrete,
                        they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
                                      the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
                                      con-
has to be conservative
                                                  pro-
has to be socialist
                                     you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
             ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
             *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!

I do not think it’s important to do
I think I would rather just think
I’ll think about all of the books and the arts
And even my own kitchen sink

I’ll think about how the world's gone wrong
And all the injustice I see
I’ll contemplate everything and then think some more
When I eat, when I sleep, when I ***

There’s so much to do, so little time
But there’s also just so much to read
How can I know if my actions are good
If I don’t know where my motives lead

I stare at the corkboard in university square
Ten thousand calls to action thereon
I think and I think about which is best
I’m sitting there thinking till dawn

Perhaps Marx was right, and all of these causes
Save one, economic, is right
Perhaps all the rest are just there as distractions
Keeping us home from the fight

But then again, perhaps that’s not true
Perhaps they all DO need some help
Perhaps each struggle for justice is just
Lets save all the whales and the kelp

But I think, I think, I don’t know what I think
But I’ll know when the thinking is through
And when I’m done thinking I’ll have an Idea
That will dump all my thinking on you.

I think that this thinking ‘round which I center my life
is really a tool of The Man
And I think that they think that I’ll lay down my knife
To think about my empty hand

And I think that it's working because I don’t fight
Rather, I sit here and think
I think about all of the books and the arts
And even my own kitchen sink

I think about why I think what I think
I think about why I exist
I think about why they all hate them all
I think about why they enlist

But I never stop them, I just don’t have time
There’s really just too much to do
When I finish this Zizek I’ll move on to Sartre
And then, I’ll read Heidegger too

I look at a billboard and think to myself
That’s propaganda He wrote
I give it no notice and keep walking by
Give it barely a mental sticky-note

But ten thousand billboard and ten thousand signs
Now that stops me dead in my tracks
I look at them all, and analyze each
Criticizing their mindsets; false facts

Too many opinions too many books
made far too open, too free
I sit, I absorb, don’t know what to do
As people die not blocks from me

I’m lost in the maze of my ivory tower
Trying to get to the top
To get to the cheese that I know I can smell
And regardless, by now I can’t stop

I think revolution at graffiti strewn walls
What who when how I should fight
And cries of black children beaten by cops
Go unheard by my ears each cold night.

it would appear, that i can keep my mouth shut,
for a prolonged period of time,
as i can forget to write;
frame of reference:
   23rd November (departure) -
hiatus interlude (that is, today,
  27th December) -
9th January (arrival /
            end of hiatus) -
   also known as...
only yesterday i was watching t.v.
and an advert for I.P.A.
                        came on...
   a hallucination in the mouth ensued
with a burp...
              god... what wouldn't i do
for a bottle of ice cold Indian Pale Ale...
what has it been,
  5 weeks in this self-imposed
"rehab"?
                     sure all hell,
it wasn't a Gehenna -
               albeit the first two nights...
3 or so hours sleep between the two,
cold & hot sweats...
                         and then into
reading the second vol. of Sienkiewicz's
trilogy... potop (the deluge)...
   and so the past weeks...
mornings spent drinking strong coffee
with 32% cream and sugar,
smoking cigarettes,
solving crossword puzzles with my
grandmother...
- but you: prior to this:
  three "poems" entitled
boxing day I, II, III...
       but in each no conversational
overtones or, telegram scatter -
so?                        well...
                  me and sober,
me and sober and a blank page...
me and sober and a blank page
and a "poem"?
                        it's not going to happen...
unless...
  a moment of reflection:

(a) and there i was thinking that
the youtube jukebox was broken...
but... apparently you can "fix"...
you can change your location
to the United States,
and turn OFF the restricted mode...
so all the old new suggestions
pop up

(b) boxing day...
was basically a list of all the new
music that i began to forage...
thinking, having succumbed
to listening to the local
95.2 / 100.9FM in Poland...
- had a thought...
   am i really that far behind in
new music?
am i out of touch?
a list of bands with viewing
in the range of x,000, **,000, ***,000...
give or take...

e.g.: beehover, nord skin,
black elephant, swamp sessions, 1000mods,
ruby the hatchet, greenleaf, the silver seas,
sleep, spaceslug, witch, elder,
red scalp, castle, broken bells,
place of skulls, naxatras, UNV nation,
the heavy minds, RAMA,
fabricantes, savanah, dune pilot,
freedom hawk, king buffalo, kurse,
the machine, astrodome, sleeping widow,
colour haze, magic pie, kalamata,
witchhelm, ingrina, sandrider,
fuzzcrafter, black tremor, wolve,
promethean misery, mother engine,
monocle stache, lee van cleef,
welcome the howling tones,
somali yacht club, silent monolith,
the blue sunshine family band,
REZN, the devil & the almighty blues,
kitchen witch, 88 mile trip,
****** praxis, electric zoo,
the sixth chamber, mythic sunship,
whoopie cat, dog days the horned god,
IAH, kosmodrom, deaf radio,
camel driver, mystic sons, weird owl,
sun of man, elbrus, stonehenge,
mudfinger, gin lady, hey satan,
dd blood, bees made honey in the vein tree,
sonora ritual, gnome, godsleep,
ordos, mountainwolf, buffalo fuzz,
black dust, may the fuzz be with you,
transpanda, RHUS, breath after coma,
electric octopus... the white flies...

but that's not the end of it...
basically... a year's worth of... material...
democracy in the arts...
well... if we're all going to attempt
to be pretentious...
i can't digest all of this, either...

(c) listening to socio-political
commentators... the whole Patreon
this, censorship that...
decent weeks sober...
   and... why did i listen to these people
while drinking?
  legacy media this, legacy media that...
interlude, 5 weeks break...
no wonder i'm moving on...

mind you... two words have been
encircling my head for
the past 3...
               if this neo-right is throwing
about terms like
cultural marxism...
what with Zizek, the Frankfurt school...
the whole nine yards...

  not that this could be anything
new...

  whatever happened to
the critique of the predominant
culture of the neo-right?
surely there is an immediate answer
to what is cultural marxism...
there has to be...

  what else?
what else if not cultural darwinism?
i was wondering for a long time now,
why is it that Darwinism is
so predominant in the anglophonic
world? it seeps into every nook
and cranny of "life"...
     it has become so entrenched,
so dogmatic...
that it just had to argue with
the low hanging fruit of biblical
study... we already know that
poetry died prior to any death
of god with that book...
_________
  
   well, that was, the draft,
turns out, i can unearth plenty of drafts
i never published,
given the suspension...
such petty narratives are left
for people who almost always
desire a "freedom" to speak,
rather than a freedom to think...

only yesterday, an argument in the garden,
next to a cherry tree i planted...
people your age travel!
they go to places!
they live!
          a constant reminder:
you need to be honest about
your alcoholism...
   sure... i'll be honest,
they other become honest,
   and i don't have to play into
this solipsistic mea culpa *******
as if: i'm not taking responsibility,
as if i am always to blame,
like... my translation of childhood
naivety is not a curse...
because: if i wouldn't trust people,
and make friends,
well, then,
would i just be your atypical psychopath?!
what were the choices:
either wrong, or not good...
wow!
      a grand assumption:
to be governed by laws that only
favor the rich, but slander
the poor...
            victim-who-whom-hood?
did i name, anyone?
am i rat?
       that's what it boiled down to,
that i behaved like a rat,
i said: more like a fox...
no, more like a rat...
   because i like to walk at night,
when i see women
faking conversation
         over their mobile phones...
to feel, secure?
i stalk the predatory mind-set...
    a woman pretends, or doesn't pretend,
to talk over the phone,
while walking home, alone,
at night, as a deterrent...
        i know how this works...
she'll scream into the phone her location...
i'm not interested,
i passed a woman once,
who just, had to, make it,
adamant, i was not to "****" with her...
ever see a running geisha?
i have...
        i mean: a horse needs a whip,
stirrups, reins,
  a woman like that?
who forces you to react,
to give her a reaction against
the canvas of intimidation?
laugh...
       then you'll see a spriting geisha.

and as i write this?
     in the middle of three candles...
my power-saving bulb went out,
i had to resort to igniting three candles
and sit in the middle of the nocturnal
                    Δ(ηλτα)
        or             Δ(ελτα) of "occult" illumination?
i never know which is which...
sure as **** (c)at
                 is nowhere near to (k)aleidoscope
but, hey, it's greek...
         you have eta (η) and epsilon (ε),
you have omega (ω) and omicron (o)
         you have Φought,
                       and you have ΘilosoΦy...
the stories they tell,
  about languages, that do not employ
diacritical markers,
     but insteal have to balance an orthography...
based upon the "quadratic" system,
for the aesthetic to appease "the gods"...
                EE, OO, FF, foe?
unless you spreschen ***-
           -dish, or high hebrew...
          but still... even there...
               א (alef) and ע (ayin)...
          eh, but the hebrews get away with
the fact that they hide their vowels,
in imaginary niqabs...
                akin to diacritical markers...
the hebrews treat their vowels,
like a people, who would apply diacritical
marks to either vowels or consonants:
plainly in the open.
        so some people have gone places,
Egypt, Thailand...
  i've also been to places...
kant's critique of pure reason,
heidegger's being and time...
russell's history of western philosophy...
i've been to place,
   this world cannot offer me,
a source for solace, or for envy,
    i've transcended the globalist
frenzy of people moving aimlessly...
     i went back, to the beginning of the 20th
century, nay, even further...
sure, let people travel,
       i don't mind:
  but as long as they don't come between
me (fox) and the chicken-shack (books),
we'll be just fine...

      mind you, this question opened my
narrative...
   who makes a better ms. amber (whiskey)?
the scottish, or the irish?
i can tell you, even if it's in a ginger ale
mixer...
         jameson and...
    what am i drinking right now?
                 tullamore dew...
   i mean mainstream whiskey...
              these two specimens?
  competing with, what?
          whyte & mackay... as i'm pretty sure
they can...
   but... bell's? the famous grouse?
the whiskeys that are like laphroaig
and smoked salmon?
         the irish are definitely better
at their brewing than the McDoogles...
ol' paddy McGuire figured it out,
amber, looks like diluted honey...
so it must appeal to the sweet-tooth palette!
well... if beer is the gods' ****...
then whiskey... is the gods' blood...
    have i ****** my life away?
sure... i have...
                  but i've also acquired
a capacity to see more in my mind,
than others have seen with their eyes...

The debate


Jordan Petersen the famous Canadian Professor debates
Slavoj Zizek, the equally famous philosopher, is facing off.
The Canadian is dressed in a blue three-piece suit that is too tight
he wears expensive leather boots, looks calm, but his voice crackles.
He thinks capitalism is for good, and I think of Ayn Rand,
he is a formidable debater but has inner anger of something
unsolved on his mind.
Slavoj looks like someone homeless, T-shirt and tennis shoes
He doesn´t belong to any group but thinks Hegel is excellent and often
refer to his saying; Slavoj´s mind is sharp and he jumps from subject
with the greatest of ease.
Jordan is very much a junior in this debate that is about Marx and
the nature of love.
Jordan gives his opinion of Marx but is constrained by his thesis
of capitalism, Slavoj picks his opinion apart; there is a tremble
in Jordan’s voice when he disagrees.
When debating the nature of love, he vax lyrical, Slavoj does not believe
in this at all, he compares lovers’ *** as mutual *******, (often it is)
but sees no wrong in this. Jordan is a one-dimensional professor, while
Slavoj has a world view that encompasses everything  
the world has to offer, he is, in my opinion, a generous genius with
a sense of rude jokes and laughter.

I watched the Swami quoting Heidegger and Zizek so admiringly.
Heidegger, who only just quoted the Swami's own ancient masters. How serene he delivered a blow to all of so-called western philosophy - even going back to the Greeks. Not a hint of anger anywhere on his dispassionate face. This is what I see as Divine. This is God living through some other flesh. What else could hold such horrific truths and smile at the damning lies? What else could pluck all of history, a dying flower, from one vase and hold it next to a living, green being of infinite beauty and call them both good?

ludzie! to jest sie poddac!
do woli zycia!
nad Boga kochanego...
to jest pierw nad monoteizm:
to jest poddac sie
woli zycia! z bogiem czy bez!
ale to jest zyc!
pasierbica: stepdaughter:
regardless of the enchantress
as some beggar woman
who i gave 20 quid for shelter
the other day:
blah blah: i spent more
on prostitutes...
        regardless! i'm still the *******
beast! regardless of my charity...
i'm still the ugly beast of
intellect:
oh Reyla: i know you...
you loved how i said to you:
i'm locking the door,
i'm keeping the key...
you will be locked up in this castle!
regardless!
you can't come out!
you'll be trapped!
don't open the door to anyone!
you hear?!
so me and her mother went out
on two date nights...
first night... King's Theatre...
Phantom... great nights...
second? more of a **** take...
**** take on the English National Opera:
oh the modernism didn't bother me...
but how... can you... square in...
circle out... the notion...
that... a German... opera... could be...
sung... in English?!
stick to your ******* Adlew Woyd Vebbers
and sing-song musicals...
forget opera: or at least don't
sing what was originally intent in German...
ah... theism... hmm hmm hmm:
i have a higher will...
beyond the will of submitting to God...
beyond the will to power...
i have a will: a Latin man's context
of wha tthe ancients were and how
the modern Italians are an abomination
from the simple rhythm of man's
context of fluidity of ***: beyond
*** as trans...
i implore the fluidity of the concept
of fatherhood...
the sexuality of a stepdaughter without
that taboo of: ugly monotheistic
butchery of ******... i... am... *******...
the most elevated... cosmopiolitan!
i go to bed with such ***** flicks you will
never see!
Disney is **** to me...
**** in the zigzag Zizek rereading of Jung...
daredevil... **** yeah...
i submit wholly to life...
ad-islam...
                 life and colour and pictures
came first...
god and sounds... and letters...
i think that comes later... much later...
don't you think?!
i don't i do = i am
i think i don't think = being...

        words like no gender and everything:
most fluid...
is this a ******* joke?!
this is the highest counter intelligence
hype: gimp stressor the western
culture could provide for me
to *******... trample?!

         this is it!? ****** joke: more...
give me a bone to choke on...
                at least Russia i can take in earnest
as not brain-dwarfed into genital-ego conflate
scrambling eggs...
    you ******* be serious in your...
cognitive: it has reached a stage of miasma:
post-cubism miasma:
the thinking has started to become dressed
in stench... a sense-awareness never before
experienced...

  the actual thought process is filfthy with bad:
bad as ****... ******* smells... ugh...
i think i'll need to snort and hark some phelgm out.