Yadda......yadda......yadda
he's dying of loneliness
Go listen to the news
They're Nine million people lonely in the country
You're all known for your coldness
Some don't even know their neighbours
You abandon your parents when they get old
Put them away in Retirement homes
when was the last time you saw your elderly mum
when was the last time you called your sister
Thank God for the GRASS being the scapegoat used by crooks
To illustrate community mobbing let us all gang up together
Now you're hugging the Asians and the blacks are your best friends

yadda......yadda......yadda
come join the club we are all mates now
against that outsider grass we welcome all
the ***** ******* are molesting women oh it's just
to make grass envious cause we've stopped him loving
talk to me I hate you no more because grass is more hated
no more bullying you just join us and help us harass that grass
don't trouble that foreign shopkeeper we now want him to join
welcome Muslim brothers and sisters come join us
we now like you cause we have somebody else to hate
hey Mr ugly come here for a hug just make sure its in front of grass
you my loner friend be lonely no more you are now a club member
you Somalian, you Ethopian, you chinese, you Ugandan no matter
everyone is friends no more hassle just hate the grass as much as us

yadda......yadda......yadda
this is politics we fool and fool you all
when we need you you are our best friends
we show you our commonality and bring you into the fold
just make sure you do as you're told and don't grass like grass
we will give you opportunities to make grass jealous
we will forge a grapevine from here to Kathmandu and beyond
we will teach you hate and poison your stinking minds
we will imprison you and make you our slaves to serve us
just make sure you give that grass a hard time and come for a prize
this is all our secret and your minds belongs to us gangstalking crew
make him lonely make him friendless and show viva democracy
You are all simpletons and that's how you will stay in our pockets
this is a union of morons by morons for morons and the crooks win
yadda......yadda......yadda

"Hm", the girl says in your bed.
Red wine and yummy chocolate - what a great mix
Moving and grooving to the beat of the music
Oh, la la.
A pleasant smell in the air, flowing, in and out into me
Colors of your blankets, subtle navy blue, velvet red (you might disagree)

Reeses, what a treat! Something devils would eat
Talking food, one of my pleasures, Ethopian - I want to eat!
Let me speak for Ravenswood, it treats me well and keeps
me toasty!
And Juanita's, Fiesta bag, crispy not too greasy
Crunchy in my mouth, mmm!
An offering of a chip with special sauce, thank you sir!'
Sauce man, confidence

He says he had heart problems
The consequences of the pleasures of food
"I need to end it but I don't know how to"
"It'll come to you"

Your roommate,
Sid

thus each tear i shed unto your people tribalised by a religion, unto each child of your womb a tear of mine, that i might return from the prison of islam that became a “home” as instigated by islam, and into the home i know of, as being the enemy, in judaism given respect, guardian of the tetragrammaton as the trinity of s, n, t and the hidden vowels.*

and if my prison was islam,
why have my caste resemble
agianst your beauty, brother?
you only made me biterrer
to have my ugly form moulded
against your beauty i see in god
mould you otherwise
akin to god's thought,
so why have you delved in demasking me?!
why have you attmepted to demask me
and give clothing of your nakedness
with angelic spires of the wings?
you demasked me...
and by so doing you made me more beautiful
than you could ever be...
thus i shed a tear upon listening to
the islamic call to prayer -
and i could have replaced a love music
for the wahabi doctrine of only listening to
the call of prayer...
but brother... i write this with tears in my eyes...
why did you unravel the mystery of aesthetics
that god allowed me to be a tourist among these forms
in placebo represented as their own and mortal,
thus sunsets above the wording
that did not revel in reading but in action,
and the few under pseudonym erasmus bothered
with the antonym of the former and left the latter
to idiots, which you claimed descent of from the idiocy of
a prophet that... simply... didn't bother...
he thus trading olives and nectarines
tried trading words and found himself bound to only
one paragraph expressed: and the dictionary of his eloquence
only reached the letter m from a rather than ending in z...
in that onomatopoeia of m n l o t p sung in dyslexic silence;
saddly enough genghis khan wrote more
and killed many more than the supposedly heaven sent
muhammad...
but the mongols were never destined to revel in living
under oil... they lived under camel fat all along...
and never became decadend like the saudi arabs became
with the european ******* ready to expoit youth of flesh
than subject the flesh to the forces of swan encompassing
a stature of the idea encompassing marriage;
well european ******* are cheap: you could
mistake a bulgarian ***** for a romanian one
every other day of the week, and it still wouldn't
feed the ethopian advertised by western charity companies
needing more money to feed the western bureaucrat
for digit input pin: x x x, x x x, than
that ethopian chirch adopted child eating quasi-sushi off
a maiden head of a crap dipped into the depths
the dark thus recycling endearing the construction
of mollusk protein in m.e.n.s.a.

I've heard it said once.
I've heard it said twice.
I've heard it said a third time.
Told to me, a fourth.

Said by a Ghanese.
Said by a mother from Greece.
Said by an Ethopian.
Said by a man also Iranian.

Are you from Somalia?
Bist du von Marokko?
Kommen Sie aus Eritrea?
Are you from Ethopia?
From Indonesia?
Nay. Ich komme aus den USA. Aus Amerika.
"But America is better than here."

Where in America do you come from?, I'm asked sometimes.
Washington.
Why are you here?
To live here.
"But America is better than here."

This is what they've heard. So this is what they think.
​This is what she's been told. So this is what she believes.
This is what Lady Liberty says. So this is what he knows.
This is what the land of the free and the home of the brave, the land of opportunity preaches. So this is what they understand.
This is what those living the American dream said. So this is what many believe.

​"But America is better than here."
It depends on how you look at it.
It depends on what's important to you. What you value.
When you say better, what do you mean by better?

"But America is better than here."
In some ways, yes.  In some ways, no.
Every land has its' up sides and its' down sides.

Besuchen Sie oder bleiben Sie hier?
Ich bin hier bleiben.
Germany ist gut.
Es gibt gute und nicht gute Dinge über Germany.
"But America is better than here."

I know why I've chosen to live in Germany.
There are a number of reasons.

"But America is better than here."

.yiddi yiddi: breakdancing via the yod
to establish the mongrel language of
                                     yiddish in german,

since he always would speak with pronounced
  slavic accents that even, without a kippah...
   payots' worth of the rastafarian dread:

the ethopian connection, that's settled! applause!
what about that spaghetti drying piece?
  the tzitzit... spaghetti drying...
   or a collection of tapeworms...
i grew up above an estate agents
                     overlooking a synagogue...
21b beehive lane gants hills...
i'd notice the rat-imitation come yom kippur...
the orthodox would scuttle for a sly prayer...
in nike sneakers...
being unable to wear any animal leather:
whether shoes or belts or hats...
i watched, and i watched... sha! schtill!
come to think of it...
i like to think of the bastardißation
of hebrew via deutsche... yiddish...
i guess the hebrews began to blossom:
making themselves comfortable!
sha! schtill! as if, "as if" borrowing from pop culture:
ein botschaft von der taufel:
haben sie je getanzt mit ein rabbiner
                              im die blassmondlicht?!

    hobn tog
        zayn oyser aher...

                  that's the beauty of the jews...
nomads... or gypsies...
            casimir III understood this...
lucky parrots...
or parrots in general...
                    but i can't imagine
that much of yiddish survives in modern
hebrew...
israel: he who struggles with god...
of course i would be drawn to judaism
away from christianity...
   why would i succumb to islam if
the only plus is the antithesis of usury?
as a proselyte i'd be treated by the muslims
in the way that the janissaries were,
and the mamluks were treated...
bangladeshi slave labour in the u.a.e.?
        for every rabbi a guardian devil...
  
   un oyb em horav tantz?!
                             ikh tsu veln tentsl!
   (mirtseshem)...

cheap joke:
   a jew a nomad and a gypsy walk
into a bar...
'we're not going anywhere,
anywhere but here,
all that anywhere is is this everywhere
that's already bound to a carousel...
and is less a people,
a people with bureucracy...
a nation... we're here for the folk...
the people can do what
people do when they need to be
people and when
being a people is not enough...'

                        loyt neyn farshribn din...

out of the 2 slaps i received on
                                                           my face:
                       one was justifiable...
at a party, drunk,
        showing the *******
at the host...
  (i remember sharing
music tastes with her only two years
prior...
            big into mortiis,
   and that german guy who
made an abandoned warehouse
                    his home)...
                              fair enough:
that sort of slap you appreciate -
like a coffee in the morning...
but the first slap?
           that was the jealous,
   suspcious one...
                as if i had another woman
on the sly, in a different country...
and there i was thinking:
this is the thanks i get for all
the *******, home-made dinner
                                 and what not?
beside the point...
   so i wanted to tell the two apart...
two nights ago
   i started pounding my face
                              with 20 punches...
only today has a slightly plum eye
emerged... (when you're doing it yourself
there's less velocity) -
    sorry it's not a proper bashing
in a brawl:
                 apparently the hand moving
back with an intention
of a clenched hand is not as effective...
    i wanted a line-them-up
argument...
                        the ******* had to be
found somewhere along the way...
20 punches and a black-eye later?
    the slap that came from:
probably my best ****-and-****-with
anatomy of a woman's body?
   20 punches later:
   the slap still stings...
         like drumming in the rain...
    snappy...
          pulverising with a resonance
that only raindrops and the drummer's
sticks might
                   rekindle, to the effect of:
                       simultaneously.          
nothing's changed...
   in a bowling alley we used to run
into walls...
until one of us pierced the plaster-board
(me)...
                   but how
desperate do you have to be...
to make amends for a slap in the face
   with 20 punches of your own
mea culpa...
                                   circa 11 years later?
not to mention:
you have to ease the knuckles
              into being bruised...
                    before an honest face
mash-up?
                            comes a brick wall...
to level the knuckles...
     meaning that the 4th is slightly bruised.
that one slap, from Eleanor i
can understand...
                  that other slap from Ilona?
hence my 20 punches...
         and, my my:
    how the world is -
      without any "why" -
                              and this mishmash of hows;
hard not to join the queue
            of addressing painting on
                     an already painted canvas!

perhaps with the muslims...
we could explore... like we did with the jews...
we all know what happened to
the muslim population of europe,
once upon a time...
in the Balkans... when the Serbs (sleeping
Nazis) did with the muslims...
but these current mulsims?
  aren't they trying to find the short-cut?
they're going for the short-cut...
the jews never lent themselves to shortcuts...
me learn rigid arabic?
  look how hebrew adapted in german:
it became yiddish...
  maybe i'm blind...
but i don't see arabic bending the knee
to mongrel itself with some
european language...
  all i see are pseudo-arabic speakers...
english accent and one or two words
of arabic...
             if the arabs adapt...
mongrel bastardise themselves like the jews
did to become yids...
and create yiddish...
    no problem!
                       but these puritans won't...
where am i? in england, or saudi arabia?!
hell... might as well be talking to turks,
after all... they were the only muslims who
figured: it's best to adapt the latin script
if we are to control the balkans and greece...

the rest of the camel jockeys
should look into learning some mandarin
to compete for the most complex phonetic
encoding with the most:
   displeasing aesthetic of resulting speech;
arabs and the chinese:
sure... it looks amazing on paper!
until they open their mouths...
the beauty sooner than soon
fizzles out.

me? every time i'm reminded by
my body that i have
hidden, waiting,
unhinged
     rhythm sections of a body,
hand, fingers, tapping
on a folded knee,
a dragging leg doing
the basis heavy bass
of a drum-kit...
               these ******* are from
the all-spice of the iberian
reconquista...
         sign me up...
                back on the old continent
these are not mayan hybrids...
no covert-slang
of an ethnic group...
i'm pretty sure the Spaniards
are still Spaniards...
   ****, i had to return
to an alternative to
the tetragrammaton,
and a Jewish influence
after netanyahu
did he best to remember
his ancestors
   seeking refuge under
the umbrella
of mieszko...
yes, thank you...
now wipe your feet
clean before leaving...
you want a ****
you'll get your
**** and your yom kippur
to boot...
  (oh, such a nice, looking
"boy next door" jewish
****-it...
           cow-lick
of a Hitlerite comb-over) -
(here, seeing fame,
or an ongoing comment
section...  n'ah...
   i'm good with the jack,
              chill)
big mouth,
ordained with a:
appear taller than
you already gifted 6ft+...
   scare yourself with
a shadow
that in your possession
like spare change...
     sure...
is little Judy bringing
her Ethopian friend along?
    - because:
i just haven't been mind-******
enough sieving through
all the post-colonial society
crap of... once great...
now just east anglia,
northumbria...
          and a bit described
as welsh-land...
                and devon...
rap sounds better (in) Hispanic...
  la poloné
                      of Haiti...
take me back 150 years
and claiming: a Gnat on Leon's
collar was only a good man...
yeah... but that moustache...
being short wasn't as bad
as donning that comic tash...
  and that ugly: mustard brown
of khaki... ugh...
    lagerfeld would have
had an opinion about that...
sure... SS-schwarz...
       on a mission statement
from the fashion industry...
   the nazis just knew how to dress
their pawns...
  except for the leader,
stuck in a nostalgia of khaki...
or as IS used to say:
send your troops
attired in loose clothing...
         schwarz pyjama(s)...
airy, fairy, ******* breeze
*** the Iraqi plains wind...
                   o.k. i found no
path in h'eh'zeus...
       perdón mi virgen novia...
guess we're going
to the opposite sight of a harem...
3 to 2 ratio of available holes...
            plenty of *******
             fudge to boot...
oh i like my foul mouth...
which is what happens
performing oral *** on
a *******...
no protection for the tongue...
good to know i'll ingest
whatever is "necessary"
and fry it on some
      hydrochloric bath-time...
seems like i rap...
   albeit in Spanish...
    perhaps they're bragging...
       perhaps they're doing
anything what a cotton-afro-head
would otherwise do
with a tongue...
       i'm pretty ******* sure
there's little oral to genitals
action in the department of:
a man sat on a chair...
a fifth leg appeared...
  ancient jokes from ancient
greece
about the size of the phallus
and the status of whether
barbarian or the civilized man...
me... neurotic about...
that extension?
        oh sure...
                the minute i think about
owning the responsibility
of a woman
i start thinking of the rare
instances of...
girlfriends armed
            with hammers...
i had to relax on some judaic
influences...
        but then i discovered
a "counter-culture" to religion...
i figured...
before i fall in the abyss
of an animalistic
       genesis...
beginning to explain
and ending with an explanation
via the chimp...
         i'll let religion go...
        it's only by coincidence
that the tetragrammaton
encompasses
both the strength to laugh...
Há
     and to sigh,
        āH...
   vowel-catcher and a vowel-crutch...
    laughter-skeleton...
a British sense of humor
can become so exhausting,
so nuanced...
           that... the obvious byproduct
would always become
               sit-coms with canned
laughter...
   since... when is it a joke...
when you (also) have to explain it?

yes... Y the inverted implosion
of gUD γΥΔ:
                     three-dimensional
space (0, 0) corodinate...
  and the wave of W...
              for the cosine graph)

huh?
delta (letter)
from wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Δ is life, i live for Δ. did you
know Δ is the key to life? i did. Δ.
this page was last edited on 20
        February 2019, at 00:50 (UTC);

well there was that fetish of
mine for both hebrew theology,
german and...
the question: why did the jews
find safety in poland,
but...
             only crafted yiddish
from german?
                
now i know there's a safety
net...
        juggling...
3+ languages standing
on the ledge,
and before me...
flight...
   and all the etymology i will
ever want to cipher through
and have no assurance
in being given the stage
to apply to today's
everyday usage...

        beside the borrowed
prefixes from latin: dis-
or greek suffixes of some variant...

fashion statement:
clothes worn like
     an animal would wear fur(r)...
i also tend to forget changing
my clothes on the whim,
on the hour, for the occassion...
fashion statement:
to wear clothes like an animal
dons fur.

learn from the best:
                               **** the rest...

And somehow
My mind goes back to two summers ago
My mind seems to always go back there
I don't really know why
Maybe it was because
I was in love with you
At that time
And I didn't really know why...

I remember sitting at the bar
In Florentine
without knowing a soul,
I looked  across the bar
and I see you there
with your dark skin
your impish smile
and your curly hair,
you smiled to me and offered me a drink
and to hang with your friends
I took you home with me
and we went out for a month
I remember waking up
to the smell of cigarettes,
and קפה שחור חזק-(black strong  coffee)
and smoke flying all  around you ,
I don't know why
but all I think of is you
still all this time later...
I haven't gone back to that home
that I lived in
,two years ago
a city away
for that time in my life,
had so much pain and addiction in it
but I still have so many fond memories of that place
so I think one day soon I'll go back
to the coffee shops in florentine,
to the parks that I used to sit in
and dream about life
to the bars I used to drink in
to melt the pains away ,
to the bar I used to go to ,
when I met you
and to the bomb shelter
that I stayed in
as the bombs flew past me,
yes Israel has been hard
but I forget  sometimes ,
that it also has lots of beautiful memories
in it too,
like meeting you
and your beautiful Ethopian,
frame face and culture
opening my mind
and showing me how dark
racisim can be
and what a beautiful soul
you are,
That race doesn't matter
And that beautiful souls do.
I have learnt so much from you
David
So when I saw the Ethopians protesting this week
About the ****** of a small child,
I remembered you
In my apartment
In Telaviv
That eve,
And how close I felt to you
With your dark eyes
Your dark smile
And your cigarette  breath
And coffee smells.

can't help but see a somali smile
whenever thinking about god,
          an ethopian heart,
            and the feet of an englishman...
the left arm of the french,
       and the right of the russian...
tongue of an american,
   and the feet of an argentinian...
others get the nibbles
         on this crude pseudo-fantasy...
a reserve of any notable
examples of life with the chinese,
          and culinary antics
                       of the blue indians...
and then i think back to
an "identity"
                   of my own, pauper-kin...
translated into american
  as the gran torino:
                              ****-wit ******
in the form of clint eastwood...
sikh generosity,
  turkish speciality in giving
man the finest barbers...
         and the arabs for their prayer...
mind you:
         two days spent without
speaking a sentence in my immediate
vicinity,
      and you circuit
a numbing sensation...
                             to encompass more
trojan horse than
                a sponges' worth of a brain
comparative...
                only yesterday
the day was half awake, and half asleep...
   and i minded both
the insomniac, and the shadow,
trying to listen in on sparrows
          during the shortest night
                     encompassed by a june
on the english isles...
            typically within the confines
of: just shy of 4a.m.,
               but i still can't fathom
the blank slate, blank canvas *******
around with a set of rules
in the domain of grammar...
              not exactly sure why this bothers
me, but, then again:
   maybe it doesn't...
               there's always a chance
that i'm writing spew,
        out-dated
                                      concerns...
up to: and more importantly:
               true... till the day of my parting
is made official...
         between a caribbean concept of
lazy, and the mediterranean equivalent?
        hardly a choice...
                      it's not exactly true
that i fell asleep out in the open
     in a kenyan resort translating
night back into day,
      but that someone managed to drink
the brandy left just above my head
on a table...
                   i'm guessing
                  a macaque stole it from me...
    hard to exactly translate certains
animals in the: wild, wide open...
                                         baboon thieves?
lined up with
                             shiny red butts
                             like celebratory ulcers?!
can't exactly write about
     a macaques: fear-face either...
         you have to see it to "believe" it...
ooh! as a word is hardly
                        a snapshot of the reality...
which is enough to confine
you, happily, to a balcony,
               finding shade,
               as the hobbit monkeys
                tire you with their presence:
            in a much ado fashion
               munching on little bags
of saccharine... can't remember:
                          could have been sugar...
a comparison with people became
the last thing in my mind...
          clearly kenya gave me
         anything but an exchange
of cultures...
                        what sort of european
whitey would not act out
      preserving the little time consisting
of 2 weeks among other tourists,
   and not attempt to spend the time with
actual, authentic, monkeys without
the european caging of them?
    ever shared a balcony with a macaque?
not exactly petting a bonsai feline...
        but i'll admit:
            an animal as a concise tool...
    a labrador
              to walk the shadow of the teasing blind...
the alsatian
         and how sensible the provoked
bark...
              a rottweiler: which is,
actually my fetish in terms of ownership...
     addict sniffer dogs at
airports:
           sniff a line: can't keep 'em
on a leash for much longer...
                  ever shared a balcony with
a macaque...
    the bonsai representation of
some far removed cousin of a past
                  consisting with the current you?
black priv.,
             there's nothing else quiet
like it...
                it's like the complete pointlessness
of needing a mirror,
or a narcissus mythology...
     furry golf ball of
           moment...
                 man and the death of time,
and monkey: with time's birth...
and yet the two behind a glue factory
of not being completely detached...
maybe i'm reading too much into
this...
               as any memory:
    cinema cameo...
                     like the one in edinburgh...
   i have had too many
cognitive faculties erode before my eyes,
to "suddenly"
      allow memory to be
crippled,                 untouched,
                            "unfathomable"...
                               "off-limits*...

which springs to mind
  the first time i've learned of schizophrenia;
that pale-shade of a woman
who phoned me up and started
screaming about auditory-hallucinations...

i was on a roof of the scottish widows'
HQ tiling the concrete with
water-proof insulation...
             what was i supposed to answer?!
then it crept up on me...
         can mental illness take the form
of a virus?
              evidently...
           like any good idea can spread,
uninhibited...
                  an illness of such "abstract"
nature
                      can become contagious...

here?
     us, lepers, poets:
    with solid handshakes of a waggling
tongue,
               nothing more.

perhaps out of curiosity,
                          perhaps out of spite...        
              
i'm still to fathom the dichotomy-exit-point
from a cartesian merger (dualism)...
                     hence no adjective...
but it's there...
               but i'm hardly going
to not consider a physical reality of
         a cognitive dissonance
                       congregation-synonym...

  there's hardly a parallel...
              perhaps a misappropriation
of timing:
        but certainly a revealing crux,
later a pivot,
        subsequently a sine / cosine libra
dynamic.            

that humming sensation,
    of a breath pushed through
pursed lips
        allowing a vibration...
                  a vibration that's also akin
to being tickled...
      
   had i but two eyes in my mouth
to see with,
   and know, what i have two tongues
to peer with, lodged in
my eye-sockets.

i sometimes try to envision london as i skim past
warsaw... i'm always missing...
the key ingredient... a mongol... here or there...
it's hard to imagine this whole scenario...

it must be said: someone is paying...
undue "compliments" to this affair...
eastern europe: "clearly"...
             or something of that measure...

just throw chinese sweat-shop sneakers
at the "covenant"! sneakers and glitter and some
readied women for the carousel...
and we'll be having this party till next year...

come to think of it...
the current mystery of the grenfell tower...
some gammon terrorist probably
left a stove on and left his home...
because... that didn't spark... the desired...
protests...
all those choking marshmallows wasn't
the tipping point...
           for the one man needs to be "excused"...

i somehow pity the comparison that
westerners have concerning their...
token friends... their "pet projects"...
the noble savages...
                  fair enough...
beside... a 5ft10 european somehow
manages to catch a 6ft2 zulu goliath...
and hey presto:
i can imagine harded work than...
foraging... the fields...
it's not like... the people were used to...
mine coal...
          
perhaps because the mongol never impregnated
the western imagination...
an actual... horde...
the huns were a horde that displaced
the germanic tribes...
etc. etc. -
but when i think of orcs...
i think of mongols...
and, when in warsaw... you can sight-see
these... "tourists"...
        
   it is known: the Kraków Hejnał...
          st. mary's trumpet call...
                    did i mention the ottoman lick
of the continent?
such peace... anyone with enough...
curiosity...
what saved japan from the mongol invasion
was... ride horses +++...
build ships and sail them...
for the love of minor deities:
that prayed and conjured up a tsunami...

one albino chimpanzee talking about:
the forbidden fruit... metaphor...
the serpent...
and... the crooked mirror...
mirror... the false spine... the teasing...
loot of imagination and time...

2 tonnes of soil moved...
the drainage established... grass worth of envy...
come the watering of the pride...
to pass the time: three beers is not enough...
to pass the time...
idiotic arithmetic...
20 minutes worth of: 1.7 x 3...
          7 x 3 = 2.1 (0.7)...
and 1 x 3... round-off at 5 units of alcohol...

it's so generous to think of...
the orcs like any former slave-trading nation
might... because... the mongols were always...
the little people, no?
grand disclosure... chinese new money...
but as a horde... a people that would move...
with women and children...
always... those empires built upon
the sole purpose of: earth-farming...
land-locked empires...
what alexander sought...
what the mongols replied with...
what the romans made quasi...
when the british imitated the greeks...

             history has become a geek funfair...
or... a drinking **** of...
because with all the scientific facts...
one can... actually... abide with the alternative
already at hand...
the history that was written down...

race baiting and "racism" and
the statement: am i... after finding a willing
cherry-*** worth of glistening choc...
one that with enough coccyx would
ram a plum into the pouch of softness
just above my phallus...
and... i'd grow bald there...
while attaining a spawn of a bearded pride
on my chin and jaw line?

let's juggle... very crude arithmetic of being
unsure... some crude geometric shapes...
sticks and stones...
the easily offended...
because... sorry... slam-dunk millionnaires
of the 12" extension: that chapter in the kama sutra
of: one size fits all...
and... the zoo of chisel oops: daddy-issue projects...
i care... because...
i care to recycle bad news...
            of envy: that there is beard envy...
that turks are naturally born barbers...

i don't like race baiting... the fun boy and the supposed...
much later... matrimonial... and material...
race baiting is like...
   forcing an inbreeding of a scant origins story...
and never is...

i tried to remember why i wrote to begin
with...
       i had to reread some of...
jack spicer's words...
  trust a homosexual to kiss with wording
when there isn't an unlikely woman to bed...
hetrosexual metaphors of ***...
******* as: yes... eating an icecream
is probably that trans-****** focus point
of translation...

   and to have quit smoking... a massive no no...
i have a rancid idea for a dream...
it is a colour... but it's not primary...
i might have a scent... but to sniff it...
you'd have to: SNIFFZ it like a line...
it's called rancid cinnamon...
but it's actually chilly...
       an idea for word that can disguise...
the colour...
                  and... come to think of it...
most words are colourless...
formless...
              apart from square red...
   which is... ◼ and... crimson... rose...
           it's not that language is limited...
but that there are no limitations of its banality...
should art... and not... the cordial...
formality of it being readily available
after pressure and time and enough
of what goes behind... pedagogy is finally
made to be: society-proof inclined as:
corporative...

i love the currency of the joke...
"native" h'americans... and...
                  yew'ropean "descendents"...
probably interchangeable...
otherwise... the crip-cut... staging of events...
concerning... a people...
that... were never... really... invaded...
because... who the hell does that sort
of thing these days...
when the soviet union disintegrated
and the metallurgy industry of poland
was eaten away by some unknown
rust of time...
some "tao magic"...
and sooner or later... everything became
dubbed: the little-chinese-centipede
of invisible hands...
the masculine... plumber...
or... metallurgist... became...
the soap shop clerk... on the rare occasion...
the bewildering ears and eyes
of the ****** diaspora all over the world
probably second to the hebrew context...
because... the arisotracy...
and how they ****** the crown...
and... when some foreign king would...
sit on the throne and exalt...
the same sort of love that...
richard the lionheart: zero anglais:
perfectemą frown-sez...

        it should be a nursery rhyme...
came the mongol horde and the ottoman turk...
came the gust of swede the german loath
and the russian loitering: time borrowed...
to elsewhere: an island near...
england some, land... some...
   little figment of our imagination...

that wasn't a rhyme... this isn't a people...
and that's what...
if you lined up 100 yugoslavs...
and put among them...
5 croats... i could probably pick them out...
hard to know... being...
an african-h'american...
the pride and prejudice...
       if one isn't so... spazz and zpezial...
when in kenya... no?

then... like the older generation
and thier flimsy belief in paper:
looted: and the diluted worth of geld...
the א and ת mobster crude... rule...
that there's an "internet" bias...
    a litany of falling stars!
and bypassing editorial scrutinies
of... a one and only... Willard Bunn III...
in the medium of democracy:
the elect: the poets...
this... the cringe: orb of delight...
of... welcomed criticism...
     a McAfee tequilla morning...
loiter... then loot...

     the... pedantry of a people
who imported their problems...
   Nicaragua, El Salvador...
              Honduras... Costa Rica...
bananas ripe... ripe enough...
to be... straightened... republic implies?
concerning the elders...
first the republic... of the elders...
then the democracy of the youth...
this glue will not necessarily schtick!

there's only one *** diaspora
to counter itself and to not... counter:
that of the ****** hind...
            picking cotton is like: what's for
dinner? candy?
the current tirade of a people:
who have never! and will never!
know or even acknowledge being
invaded! except by ghosts!
dead chinese bone sinew being
recycled... the currency of water
has been replaced with a tease
of salt from the alive... work-******...
******* at a job... the great yawn!
of a... "perhaps"...

    grovel like a pig:
   jut in case: you might have to feed
the "needy"... devoid of the need...

there was no "forbidden fruit" to solve
our paradox modus operandi of
inquiry... which served us...
pretty well...
      but the false prophet that replaced
the serpent...
the **** similis: the ape...
that gave us...
less the hope for our fruition...
but our... regressive narcissism
to mind: the current...
low-brow crime of "now"...

               that there's even a pronoun
debate... "debate" to be had...
is... because... english... as a language...
has not... have to...
cater... for a... completely alien...
grammar re-schooling
to begin with...
it's not like... the german zeppelins
landed... when instead they only
dropped bombs to give london...
a crew-cut... "revision"...
gender neutral pronoun debates
have no place...
for a people, of a people of a language...
that reads: prescribed...
that this language...
is like an archeological / etymological
find... and it needs to be...
preserved...
the hebrews have no pyramids...
yes... but they have...
niqab vowels...
              the architecture is... consonant:
resonant...
but their vowels are ethereal...
     kametz (a), tzere (e),
           chirek (i), cholem (o)...
                    shurek (u)...
                  why not envy the yids...
the hebs? for their want of a country...
what overpowered their trait by god
a divination, more... than...
this mere... from this earth you came...
unto this earth... you will return?
if the hebrews are not to be envied...
then they can't be despised...
since... god must be excused from the mind
and each will be governed by
the roulette of chaos...
gambling with "choice" contra:
the "eventuality" of will...
            the jews have their... israel...
2000 years struggling with god...
you'd think: juda'h can be confirmed:
ishrael...
      but no... there's a final test...
much more insisting to be carried through
than a "mere" holocaust...
oh people of "little" faith but of:
great ambition thus planted...
            they would rather keep...
their h'american diaspora...
than... come... and... salvage...
a 2000 year old whim...
  to make their race their creed a home...
among the arabs / the sons and daughters
of... Keturah...
                    desert people... it's not like
they would... become the siberian tundra folk
or the forest elvish kind...
but... they came with their circumcision
and their kosher rites...
and their... "mowhawks" / payots...
envy... i crave to cling to envy
when there is...
to preserve a letter...
than it is worthwhile to claim...
    because... the pyramids of the egyptians
and the pyramids of the Aztecs...
oh i wait... for the phonetic encoding
markers from south america and the north...
and south of egypt...
is... this torture instrument: ♱...
a letter... in the ethopian alphabet?
why not... the pike... hands tied...
ukranian noble... groaning for days upon
end?

oh i love ****-erotica of literature...
i'm a bit tame... when it comes to...
replicating the ****** acts...
missing the ****... crushing the pevlic bones
when... praying to gravity...

- otherwise? how could one ever...
conflate / confiscate /
   what one is supposed to do...
when one... deflates the worth of...
toasted rye...
like... that's somehow... worse... than...
a toasted croissant?
if not better?
to eat a brick's worth
of architecture...
                 clark gable... occupation: amant...
censor... herr...
the following list of housewife
escapee dreams:
            rock hudson...
                   humphrey bogart...
         cary grant...
                    gregory peck...
james stewart...  tony ******* curtis!
and clark gable...
the myth... the non-existing marvel (marr-veel)
franchise... the amant...
     my escapism sack of time...
for footie... snooker...
playing cards... drinking...
and that all-round... degree in being...
pedigree **** "quasi-alpha"...
the corpus christi: omega man...
to conveniently sum up the maxim...
    stanley K'OH-VAL-SK"Y"...
        an i or an e... does... it... really...
******* matter?
ever heard of a spanish tortilla?
me nigh-ver... neither...
           but there's the m'eh-he-he-he-co&co
omlette and such...
now for pitching a tent...
and tending to... peeling an apple...
and a... semi-serious... the end...
since... semi-serious...
is... what denotes this loot of writing as...
well... it's not a novel...
nor a paragraph as borrowed from one;
the hope is...
that it might be treated as a...
exhibit (a) a gnome - apostrophe...
"silent".... gggggggggggggggurgle...
or... exhibit (b)... a tall ******* lebrechaun!

how beautiful the world: ought: and was to be:
but now the serpent and apple
is no more
there's only the tongue like a worm
wrapping itself in parasitic form
around a heart of stone:
my heart:
i implore: i do give kindly...

             it's the way this beggar woman approached
me speaking at an angle 10m apart:
which is a far enough gesture to get
my attention:

all i had was the fear...
the one fear i fear most...
listen to the prologue of the Beauty and the Beast
to get to know me: better...
i am prince chamring fearful of the Enchantress...

she asked for shelter... from the storm:
currently the methodology of hieroglyphs,
cunneiform and Ethopian molasses...
what a strange dream i had:

so she asked for shelter:
40 buckles or pounds of Shylock's testimonies
came through
via a messanger attired in flaming eyes
and Ku Klux **** ghostly voodoo:
not the end of Octoberm, yet...

i flew over... all over America: H'america:
and i dropped ***** juice across
Greenland... a whiteness of the whiteest source:
insomniac suns and belly full moons
these ******* satellites!

orbits that make moods and tides
of the seas...
from what i know the Atlantic was
a dangerous crossing:
esp. from Liverpool back to homeland
Ire...

so the Polans were the people who swayed
with feld like the mongol tribes
driving horse blood and playing
arithmetic with Baghdad skulls:
i don't care the sacrelige is already there:
the Israeli barbararism of Lebanon:
only when Liban and Lebon
become invaded by these: scrupules...
then i invite the thought:

and the Vatican stranglehold over England
with the Cathedral of St. Paul's...
there's so much more
but then i don't think you have serious...
interest...
i need to book a month off from the bare
minimum of work...
i want to get hitched to an American
Girl: oh so Tom Petty...

i gave her 20 squid: a quid to squander:
i admit i do hate the English ambition:
Elgar was a terrificly terrible musician
but what a wonderful life:
orchestra in the lunatic asylum...
the life more interesting than the music:
i'll stick to Slayer...
the grandiosity of birth of Bertha...
and the generosity with it:
like...
           dyslexia is on part of the conundrum
before start to plagiarise and utilise AI
to make church bells sing like uvulas
and the reign: curators of the art of silence:

but there is a storm a happening
and Bob Dyland is out for baseball
or whatever the lackey former icon
feels like right now...

                   two check calls: coming:
none: coming...
ridicule my passiveness...
but it was so heart-warming to try to fall asleep:
i ended up with a dream
of eating out a **** of a blonde
with the perfect tash...
she raised horses on a ranch...
in the middle of a Pacific nowhere...
as i was eating out her ****
by ******: of her intimidation:
i noticed...
i was eating a **** of an angel:
lacerated on the chest:
having both wings, formerly...
and a pair of ****...
cancerous growth made this dream-*****
of mine a survivor of breast cancer...
i didn't see a pair of *******
like i might see the eyes
and nose and mouth for *****...
so the dream is distortion...

then i think...
but no: now: i doubt...
if i doubt i therefore must be in double-think
mode...
i listened to the wind
and how superior
came crashing... the concept of caves:
rather than morph the tree:
the comfort of a tiny wooden hut...
heat it up real quick and cool it down...
the wind: agape...
started to sway then talk to the pines
and other trees...

it creaked and smackered a revelation
so clear..
but i'd hate to feel like the idiot
of simply giving a woman £20: buckles...
squid...
   but she said it was her birthday
and she was an intellectual mirage...
and i'll come investing so much
   trajectory Hawaii...
i do...
            i'd rather... i will...
live under a volcano... a graft of gods tectonic...
revealing the tectonic shifts with
the births of volcanos like
the dead stone of mountains: not...

Poland is far away: like a quote
from Neville Chamberlain about the foundation
of Czechoslovakia... capitulating:
like Milan Kundera making his:
mind... right up...
Poland is far away
and somewhere in between
the history of the people of Germany
and the people of Russia...

but i'd rather...
to before God...          than the Eiffel Tower...
i'd rather be in the shadow of a mountain:
who names me her gift: his gift...
i... i must have performed oral ***
on an angel that had
wings but decided to chop off
its Sphinx suckle on them ****...
            
Gryps... the language: vernacular: slang:
of Polish prison inmates:
i'm starting to question... questions...
answers... quakes and accusations...
        
                                      there's a language
to behold: uttermost, absolutely free...
           then there's the language of the Morph...
like spice was
now dust is:
   i feel the need to feed off the dead in
ceremony...
                judgements judgements
such petty hyperbolic suggestions: to qualm:
pacify: gesticulate with sordid
ambition...

                           i am in prison planet mode:
once upon the time the world was so unknown
while everyone was seemingly known...
now that the world is known
and beyond the world the moon and stars...
so much hush-hush psy-pacifism
of the modern scrutiny of the least
modern hybrid: the chimera...

                        feast: fishing in the agony
of the mirror for the fish of ego:
but with such currents of the collective cognition:
no thought belongs to anyone:
god simply ***** thoughts and oughts
out having established the taboos...
clinging to thinking as if it were our own:
our own: there is:
how we managed to sample the cognitive stream...
the Holy Draft, formerly known as: Spiritus:
is this stream of thought:
like the Jungian collective unconscious...
parody: almost...
this living stream of thinking that
God simply deviates from...

         i doubt: therefore i must think twice:
i must think that i think...
and i have to also... alleviate myself
with seeking nothing... god apparent...
we attach ourselves to this freeflow of thinking:
no origins of coincidences and originality
will, ever, arise!

thinking arose from the ****-est-godly-manna...
in man: conjured by the ego:
ooh! that's me! perhaps... maybe...
or just: ha...  ha...                  ha...
next time you give 20qids to a beggar woman
seeking shelter:
just ask yourself...
   am i being made into a fool?
if she's honest... i made a gesture worth salvaging
to prompt memory to overcome itself
and counter with imagination the flow
of thinking like that's the only proof of god's existence:
that we simply think for our own...
what?

last time i heard thinking was squandered on
daydreaming, on logic...
on puzzles...
which shows the proving of shining:
the unstoppable agony of thought
the moral compass
when only the basic were given
and the basics, were: enough!

                        a thought is a unit of moral ought:
not law: i won't be so harsh:
because at the end of the day
there's the schizophrenic confusion
of how the hierarchy works in those sentenced:
like a ******* is the lowest of the low
and will be beyond the innocent man
falsly incarcerated...
or the murderer and the thief...

     thinking is not mine: just...
how that wind spoke to those trees...
and how the earth trebbled: in troubling and trembling...
before the wind was talking to trees
to creak and lasso lisps...
there was talk of the wind with the seas
and how there must be a siege of England!