A woman arrived early from Minsk
Hoping to get a nod from the prince
His procession went by
She never caught his eye
Now her fondness for him is past tense

Everything is an illusion
The baby birds live on my balcony
I sleep there too--my confusion
I read Julio Cortazar
I shop at local Bazar
I dress at the second hand store I drink
in the park
Nothing can be more pretentious
but I fully embark
my emptiness, my fullness and my despair
I sleep on the coach, and I sleep on the chair.
I read many books and I know many words
nothing can be more sinful than serving two gods
Yes, I am so unusual but I am boring too
The Immortalist is in my purse
He is my king Tutahkhamun for the night
he is my curse
my interplanet flight
I drink *****. I am turning hands,
and I am burning my gods.
I am burning my guts.
I am making fans
Nothing can be more pretentious than
to die alone
Sunday Minsk, and despair
and I sleep alone...in the chair...

Consider the background to this war in the Ukraine, consider the effects of the accumulation of generated rage over the decades?

Russia has historically subjugated Ukrainians since the 1930s when Stalin, motivated by racial prejudice and a desire to dominate, implemented a policy of extermination which systematically starved the largely rural population to death in the phenomenon known as the"Holodomor"... and forbade any complaint being uttered by the suffering peasants with the penalty of being frozen to death in the gulags of the wilderness of Siberia.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Ukraine became an independent nation by popular decree. This was not received well by  Russia nor by the Russian speaking populace of the Donbass region in the East.

In 2013 revolution occurred in the Maidan Square in Kiev where protestors revolted against the thuggish government of Victor Yakunovych who had implemented, in the face of Russian pressure, a forced decision against the popular choice of the people for the Ukraine to join the European union.

The Maidan revolution resulted in the collapse of the Yakunovych government and his forced sudden retreat to Russia. Pro Russian separatist forces in the Donbass supported by euphemistically titled "Russian Military Advisors" in February of 2014, attacked loyalist forces of the Ukraine in  the self-declared Donetsk and Luhansk republics. Military escalation continued through to 2018 including artillery exchanges and the decision by Russia to militarily invade and annex the Crimean peninsular.

An undeclared war began between Ukrainian forces on one side, and separatists intermingled with Russian troops on the other, although Russia attempted to hide its involvement. The war settled into a static conflict, with repeated failed attempts at a ceasefire. In 2015, the Minsk II agreements were signed by Russia and Ukraine, but a number of disputes prevented them being fully implemented. By 2019, 7% of Ukraine was classified by the Ukrainian government as temporarily occupied territories, while the Russian government had indirectly acknowledged the presence of its troops in Ukraine.

In 2021 and early 2022, there was a major Russian military build-up around Ukraine's borders. NATO accused Russia of planning an invasion, which it denied. Russian President Vladimir Putin criticized the enlargement of NATO as a threat to his country and demanded Ukraine be barred from ever joining the military alliance. He also expressed Russian historic views, questioning Ukraine's right to exist, and stated wrongfully that Ukraine was created by Soviet Russia. On 21 February 2022, Russia officially recognized the two self-proclaimed separatist states in the Donbas, and openly sent troops into the territories. Three days later, Russia invaded Ukraine. Much of the international community has condemned Russia for its actions in post-revolutionary Ukraine, accusing it of breaking international law and violating Ukrainian sovereignty. Many countries implemented economic sanctions against Russia, Russian individuals, or companies, especially after the 2022 invasion.

The Russian genocide handbook was published on April 3, two days after the first revelation that Russian servicemen in Ukraine had murdered hundreds of people in Bucha, and just as the story was reaching major newspapers.  The Bucha massacre was one of several cases of mass killing that emerged as Russian troops withdrew from the Kiev region.  This means that the genocide program was knowingly published even as the physical evidence of genocide was emerging.  The writer and the editors chose this particular moment to make public a program for the elimination of the Ukrainian nation as such.

Legally, genocide means both actions that destroy a group in whole or in part, combined with some intention to do so.  Russia has done the deed and confessed to the intention.....and incidentally, recently Ukraine geophysicists discovered vast gas and oil deposits in the, then, Ukrainian administered segment of the Black Sea. These deposits would have had the capacity and potential to render the Ukraine, not only independent of Russian hydrocarbon dependence but also capable of being developed into a major commercial supplier of oil and gas to the European community. Russia's annexation of Crimea and the recent military occupation of the Eastern corridor effectively opens the door to Russian monopolization of these deposits...and closes the door to Ukrainian aspirations!

Ukraine bleeds, Russia’s Putin must live with the guilt of the suffering and destruction he has caused for the rest of his living days. Emotions are running high on the vast steppes of Central Asia, whatever the outcome of this turmoil, decades of hate and resentment, violence and vengeance have been wrought by this action, the birth of this animosity shall grow and pervade, unhindered, for centuries in the heart of the angry denizens of this poor, tortured land.

Ukraine, Ukraine...Cry the Beloved Country

M.
20 April 2022

To her who knows who she is.

I realize If you Donetsk in this world you don’t get,
so I thought about it Turin those nights away.
My mind would Rome.
As in to walk Cologne down Rhodes
my feet haven't wandered Faro while.

It seems you have the Kiev my heart,
Zagreb a Piza it in the Palma your hand,
Nevada let go but to keep for all time.

I’d been longing for York kiss,
Hungary to have you Lyon next to me;
thinking how Nice it would be
for you to Guinea your arms,
And wrap them around my Jersey.

Reno that in the Split of distance,
we are hanging on to;
‘We Chelsea how it goes.’
I Bern a little Kos knowing
Havana wait for those crucial words means
I don’t get to Hanover a love
you’d never get Bordeaux having.  

When Ireland and you Symi
you’ll see that I don’t Minsk my words.
You’ll sea I was never in the-Nile,
so Danube worry about that.
I want to Brighton your days
and Tokyo somewhere we could be
kings and Queens.

I hopes that where this Texas;
we’d be eventually
Edinburgh place to call home.

Gdansk and Lodz of love….


You know who

Più i giorni s'allontanano dispersi
e più ritornano nel cuore dei poeti.
Là i campi di Polonia, la piana dì Kutno
con le colline di cadaveri che bruciano
in nuvole di nafta, là i reticolati
per la quarantena d'Israele,
il sangue tra i rifiuti, l'esantema torrido,
le catene di poveri già morti da gran tempo
e fulminati sulle fosse aperte dalle loro mani,
là Buchenwald, la mite selva di faggi,
i suoi forni maledetti; là Stalingrado,
e Minsk sugli acquitrini e la neve putrefatta.
I poeti non dimenticano. Oh la folla dei vili,
dei vinti, dei perdonati dalla misericordia!
Tutto si travolge, ma i morti non si vendono.
Il mio paese è l'Italia, o nemico più straniero,
e io canto il suo popolo, e anche il pianto
coperto dal rumore del suo mare,
il limpido lutto delle madri, canto la sua vita.

how unfathomable to be unable to listen
to new music...
              i sit and want to rearrange
bob kaufman's poem
  o-jazz-o war memoir: jazz...

      samsung + google chrome
doesn't like bitchute...
   i have been unable to watch a video
of weeks...

lenovo + google chrome
doesn't mind bitchute...
         well... it's not terribly important...
i have installed pale moon
but i'm being terrible lazy
and... i'd only invest in a VPN
to get masterchef australia (.au)
                     recipes...
                  i can mash up: punk
a steam-roller forward...
   it's not necessary...

but i will not rearrange that bob kaufman
poem...
           a little bit of rereading
the brautigan sonnets...
honest to god:
   when knausgård finally came...
i was relieved from having
to shove my eyes my tongue
my brain my: casually automaton
not-thinking
    away from american poetics...

i aspire to return to:
the i, maximus poems...
         because i've been a good boy
and i didn't visit the brothel
because even at 34...
well... you just tire of ***
because so many others seem
to have progressed to the higher
acts... protagonists in b.d.s.m.
role-playing... candy-torture...
something? opaque?

the book is dear... nearing 40 quid a pop...
i will only make
peace with american poetry on
the promise of reading the maximus oeuvre
(i have to insert the name,
like a junction - delight in calling
it the M25 around the home counties -
the bloated A406 teasing Ilford:
orson... ****... not welles...
charles olson!)

    acronyms in the vocab or...
dropping names... voluntary work...
departed and death's hyphenation:
assured - by - a designated project...
it's not a thought-out complexity...
it... either rains... or it shines...
it's either a night with a lonely
dog barking... or... it's a silent night...
perhaps a cricket... or some far away
cushion of traffic monotone humming:

like a refrigerator: the avant garde
of music: white noise...
but always the welcome wind...
either the earth's yawn...
  or the cavern solid depth of ****...
which is... not the passing of wind:
but... luck... in a more... eastern tongue...
teasing the geography of
little moscow i.e.: minsk...

well of course nothing spectacular
is happening...
beside reading a newspaper in
the morning... a few essays in the afternoon...
sitting and contemplating:
a platonism of homosexuality...
at home... teased by genitals...
as from an early age...
when a foreign body fiddled with
my possessions... a toy...
but now... a 60 year old craftsman...
perfectionist...
   a plumber but most necessarily: irish...

what's in english TH and in greek Θ
is also F            and also: alTHough...
                                   is also THat
             is also THorough...
is a surd isn't a surd...
          is -gh deaf...
                                   etc.
          irish? well... t'ought...
                                   t'is...
                  t'ou(gh)t...
                       target tatties: bomb-zickle-bomb-zarch...

such a loaded word: ****-eroticism and
platonism:  bias for commeradry
because there's a higher tier
of friends with "benefits"

          it's a terrible tango this very tease
of greasing a gauge:
time flows through the impersonal squadron
of perchance...
      
as ever: there comes a moment of
completing disbelief:
       in what makes one churn
the advent of the democratic voice...
put simply: i don't believe what i'm writing...
nietzsche is forever only a teenager
fanboy...
          how anyone could get away with
that sort of: sorrow of my own
inability to loot a blank...

                 if this was written
with a conviction in fwench or spanish...
a distant russian...
but it's only a tourist english of some
****** immigrant...
             i should somehow will myself
to write in mutterzuerst:
             zunge von tod... a chicago glamour
glistening in my mind...
h'america can capsize and retain its
20th century's mythological "geography"...
  and "history"...

i don't think the eyes would be of any use
when seeing anything anything more
than the letters and later the words
and later the sentences of noting
the hebrew junction...
         i'd like the literal fetish...
because a literal reading would allow me
to focus on dreaming up the impossible...
not reading the ol' bib'complica-ca'tion
into a poetry exhaustion of:
metaphor and the philosopher's stone...

the guitar lick of sowing the solo...
invitation to giving diacritical stressors...
whereby rhythm is noun...
whereby rhythm is sentence: judge jury
and executioner...
    
to drink! it's all about drinking and not
******* your pants...
it's about the mea culpa and
shooting yourself in the foot... or not...
i'd love to make william burrough's narrative
into a ******...
although i much disagree to
the detail of the life behind the sacred
pax of jeez and juicy juicy dorothy...

lullaby or an alibi...
       lullaby or an alibi... much contested:
of the satellites of the soviet
picturesque: because there's only
genius to work with around
the culmination of events...
for all that's recurrent of the 20th counting
nil and the flowering feud of
the "most"...

                  such a pressure to
somehow find some variation of "anew"...
for the best in poetry... the h'americans
siding with...
the iron curtain and now the silicon
curtain and the lessened tensions
of a: would-be-bomb...

            mr. clear stick figure of:
the oppenheimer...
        who was hardly a pope or a bishop
and there was never a reconquista
of such loot...
   but this current inversion
               of pennies from niqab:
and there could only be an unfathomable
triad - snot, phlegm and salt...
i find myself suffocating to
transcend while the metaphysical
ogling of an oasis...
contesting with sardines...
an antithesis claustrophobia...

               borrowing scent and the pristine
mini-skid-alongs of
churning umbrellas into skirts...
and all those cliches:
best to forget the existence
of the mind... better to reflect...
on the banjo and some walter skinz:
   or... herr im schwarz...
that best ******* of a german
forgotten "soon" with no inclined
to a borrowing of a son...

had i written the most spectacular freefall
bonanza... lucifer loots out
all other useful nouns on the dole...
there must be a boa architect and a
familiarisation with choking
on a peanut...

               best pleasing a hinterland of:
impromptu...
these khaki shoes these khaki shirts...
these mustard green trousers...

             it's impossible to write when one
is still a s schoolboy with a robert pinksky
attention to detail:
pauper... european...
the myth of and if... someone should
keep a calendar denying the sun...
that the moon can also shape itself
toward a frigid

that there's a mongol and he's
not a chinese or a thai or a japanese
culinary invitation...
that i somehow have to tattoo my mind
with such details...
because my skin is best sacred
by not being "scarred" by idiosyncratic
details of SE664397B...

the currency of youth in england
is still composed of a "memory" of Hastings...
such an inglorious battle...
given the norman archers...
and the tumbleweed of flesh of the saxon
protectorate desiring a towing
of a downward ***** of:
the confessor's epiphany...

  dear edward dear little england...
prior to ambitions of empire...
and that zenith...
dickens... jack the ripper...
jester jane... mr hyde...
   it's like... shakespeare is no necessary
rubric: 2 + 2 = 4 new yorker
sauvage...
                              
it's such a currency of suffocation
to have to tow... a height...
the variation of stink....
               a broken bone...
squeezing a delight...
             a marrow juicing of a rattling of
bone...
       procreative on the strategy
of instigating chimes:
variations of skinning wind teasing...
        
my my... it all looks just as plentiful and
as about right... as the currency
invested in a slavic discoteque...

            slaves the partner to
the germs; on high minded peoples
are the hybrids of a sa xony:
modulated to an export..
and an island home...
                 riddle with a homage
to having encountered an ancient:
    "amore" and "psyche":
                       belittling this quest
for taming haggis afghanistan.

HAZE HER - an all female...
pretend... football league sq...
gets a happy sancho ****-virulence
of "hope"... stages a ****...
the group accepts the "nuance"...
the media subsequently deals with
the wound and some maggot...
festering...
i grieve for the 19th century romance...
when... and... where...
women could be adored...
rather than abhorred...
as these... butchers' off-cut sludge...
and slices...
these: me no toy not 'appy...
'appier in bangkok kwing...
   und a lesser queer...

       procrastinating over
fraternity videos...
            because... i am... a sadist...
but because this requires a sadism...
i also have to watch these videos
as a *******...
that famous plumber!
that famous... the "fiction" of fame...
as one... that assures one a permanent
check-mark of continued work...
it's not an Elvis fame...
it's not... rising **** of the new
yearning *****...
it's not a fraternity side-project of;
all are inclusive in...
a game of shame...

    i once enjoyed 1970s *****
cinema... monica rocccaforte style
italian flicks...
    ava lauren ***
         shyla stylez... follow through:
grown attires a ****** readied
exclusivity...
but... what i'm seeing?
that's just ******* base... crude...
juvenilia inc.
              a specctacle
of a suffocating sparrow:
to aid the progress of science...
like ego is the holier than thou
makeshift pilgrimage & pilgrim...
as the dust settles...

the scent of watermelon and of strawberries...
******* with sorority pledges is...
if one could... wish for...
the concept of *******...
and... the delight in teasing a glug
of an oyster... one would... always...
shy with a hope for...
an arabic sensibility...
but one never does...
       one always expects...
russians in afghanistan...
and a miracle of iran to counter...
the ottoman plebs...
given their byzantine inheritance... etc.

one of those impossible tasks
of jerking off while drunk...
with an impeding "hangover" of...
a... "delight"...
in how... ******* can feel...
synonymously akin to scalping /
extracting the *** from new yorkie...
the kippah from
a bar mitzvah...
         a pleasure from an agony...
a pair of eyes from a niqab toll
of *******...
a toothless:
      toothless bake relief...
       a nugget... a toothpick woo..
  watching agony ****
that's not italian 1970s classic...
it's not this belgian sour fetish...
it's this crude: women also play
soccer and toy with game-think...

           it was ****... whenever it wasn't...
and it wasn't... ever...
you can disguise a drunk with a *****
and a pair of *******...
but a drunk impregnate-
              sapphire: blue orb or:
orc stipend...
   which revels in turning chartreuse
into a moss ****** and...
itch...
           that's how i party...
a colour is beside a mere identifiable
word... it's also a sensation...
which... colour can muster...

******* of the sheiks' limbo...
what are these martyrs' promised?
can't they... "somehow" satisfy themselves
with what can already be given...
weißhuren: beruhigendzerbrechlich...

nein mehr meine mutter:
        tod die mutter von alles!

what are these presumptions these assumptions
these decadent dubai posits of camel jockey bribes?!
******* indolent question...
cold warsaw slab.... the farao island "gills"...


festmahl von freur!
                    hören der wind!
conceive a flemish inquiry with
anatomy to mind...
                     ich bitten die meer...
                             pflege für mich...
alt-mutter-meer...
              
                    schoß von und walfisch!
a bangladeshi will cite:
camel jockey and sand-******...

white *******...
      i don't have the heart...
to juice on the hex...
                        
sport akin to *** is for the "uglies"...
as a man... unfathomable...
because "******"...
and the "inconvenience" of
baking... leotard game of gym / ballet...
covert homosexuality...
the whole biological female... ***...
orientation... bypass... wizard of oz...
no thanks... menopause...
new age ******-sadism...
the next earned puppy...
ms. is not a mrs. bovary...
my ******* grandma...
              i'm not gay... just covert...
              sorority ***** vids...
and... auschwitz maiden voyage *** teasers!

like... ich wantz...
         i wollen: ein schälen...
       all remains a chemistry in german...
all is an anatomy in: pennywise
the wicked... puff... and curious candy...

candy kept cain perfect
of h'american'ah...
like some abilist abel... ****-somewhat-"wit"...
no...
no glue for a new, new...
it's the same old... salem witchy-witchy...
dutch lisp...
some better than before belgian congo...
the diamonds! the diamonds and cochccies!

we are weeds in the garden:
the shadows brood concerns first...
the glistening soft affairs
of village people having
to export themselves
to a grandiosity of lunatic stakes
in urban pointers of credulity and concreteness..
i want to call it the death
of a sparrow...
the annoying rebirth of a magpie...
the limbo of a gravitating
silver spoon as the best prized
mythos...

calls a substitute a mother-in-law...
some variation
of a pick-me-up
Beirut granny; boom para giggles
hint.

.if you want the fresh impromptu, you might as well skip this unpublished draft, i'm even starting to think about leaking my hellopoetry.com password... but given my suspension... FOR 8 MONTHS because of some soccer mum not having encountered something akin to a harlequin novel... i'll leave it at that: •••••••••••••••••, here's to some depeche mode... last time i checked, even africans have the same inside of their hands "whitened"... there is no racial difference to be allowed to read into chiromancy... i met one ***-, tomikuni... he also inquired about reading my hands... we're all pale, governed by the thumb, when asked, or not asked, to hold "something".

and what is the only variant of classical
music, heard on a radio?

    well... there's the fama radio night
sessions - with not adverts
   radiofama.com.pl -

it might be your take on what the french
tell the english, i.e.: euro-trash...

but no adverts...

                          and there is no reason
to concede to reviving punk,
hippy music didn't see a revival,
why should punk?

   a variant of classical music radio,
akin to bbc 2, or classic fm...

       that "oddity" of a morphed bbc 4
internet coverage, akin to lionel nation...
and what i mean by that,
is not h. d. thompson's gonzo...

          the allure of the, un-scripted...
and all of this is raw, flesh,
language at a smithfield
                   or a billingsgate...

talk-radio as the logical conlusion
of exposing your child to classical music...
it's genius -
   reverting back to classical music
once you're older, and don't play
an instrument?
                      what's the point?

dr steve turley bashing out a medieval
mash-up on the guitar...
            and that's "not" even
inspiration for a rock star status...
i like his smugness -
    it's... zesty, lime-like:
             certainty of the twinkling
of the eye that consists of:
    a remaining - intact, i.e., sane.

bbc radio 4?
      what, with zee archers nonsense?
this radio novella
that keeps propping itself up
like a bad take on eastenders without
the kray brothers?
          
                  talk-radio is all about
a non-existent "script":
       the flamboyance of spontaneity...
with the crux, being?
                
                                     ensō -

the only aspect of ζεν, a ταoιστ might
respect.

      p.s.
                  do i believe in u.f.o.  s?
(****, acronyms and the plural article
attached to them, mind boggling)
     no... but i've seen one, so the belief impetus
is, kind'ah missing in me...
             i've transcended speculation,
a question-worthiness on the matter...
since the question no longer manifests
      itself in the narration impetus?
the impetus for narrative, is narration per se;
and how lovely, it is to see
a noumenon...
      when the world of phenomenons
reads like this:

  the times newspaper, saturday, july 21,
2018,
               OVER 70,000 CHILDREN
PUT ON PILLS FOR DEPRESSION...

great headline...
     alas, a chemistry degree (3rd)
from edinburgh uni.,
     am i chemo-phobic?
                 i should ask myself that
same question, when i next
brush my teeth, apply shampoo to
my cranium,
   or wash my hands.
__________
as any drunk might,
   now i know why my parents decided
to leave Poland...
   Chernobyll...
           when you hear the facts...
about a single gram of Uranium, U-236,
2.34 x 10 to the power of seven, years
being the "half-life" or...
****, i should have read over my
chemistry notes from Edinburgh...
before the particle fizzles out...

                 i was lucky...
i am to born again with the age bracket
of 33... which means i only received
a Cain tattoo on my right shoulder-blade...
birth-mark,
apparently i suffered greatly as a child,
hernia and all...
            i had the birth-mark removed,
i'm pretty sure i was a donor,
my flesh became donated to
   some scientific lab and studied...
here's my Shylock pound...

given what's currently happening in my
home city...
with the slow decay, the ever more increasing
number of cancer victims, middle-aged....
they're talking about the sort of cancer
that... moves, visibly, under your skin...
people are freaking out...

     it's not a joke,
   the soviets wanted to hush hush the whole
affair...
                   3.2 of whatever scale...
was hushed... but the reality was
aquivalent to 400 x-rays in a spell of a minute...
i was under the impression that i was
the child of economic migrants...
   eh eh...
               i don't think that's actually the whole
picture...
   come on! if people were hot and bothered
in Minsk... Belarus...
           this wasn't a ******* tornado...
tornados come and go... we're talking
500 years of after-effects...
               even my great-grandmother
remembers how the trees in the local park
were affected... streaks of autumn trees...
among streaks of actual spring green
phosphorescent trees illuminated
by street lamps...
          like the current phosphorescent green
oaks in england...

   they fled... and took me with them...
who gives a **** whether i came to england
without speaking the language...
hiding in toilets at my primary school...
but then... one day...
after self-teaching myself the language,
studious, labour of the mind,
books and books...
i was the teacher's pet...
             i remember this one time...
st. augustine's, near barkingside...
i was the only kid doing long arithmetic...
while the "natives" decided to
stage a: lord of the flies sort of coup
against the replacement teacher...
and what happened when our...
  ****... ms. mcguire! can't believe i still
remember her name...
  i wasn't happy that the children
were scolded,
  i did my work, they didn't,
and i managed to do whatever i wanted
while they had to catch-up
on what i already did...

         for whatever childhood i had,
i still remember it fondly...
    my father being unable to teach me how
to swim in the english channel,
me teaching myself to swim out of sheer
will and determination: competition...
i know people brag about:
how smart they were so early on:
                             yadda yadda bull... ****!

now i am here to take out my investment
in this language,
   to... peacock and strut...
        as i am also glad to not brag about
being a polyglot or a... eh... somewhat polymath...
either this... or a slump in depression
and suicide thinking:
   as always... i don't get out of bed
and think of one impossible thing,
   i get out of bed to overcome one suicidal thought...
not all suicidal thinking is the end game,
some of it relieves you in having
integrating a kick-up your **** to get out of bed!

so... the picture...
well like any past-time of any: happily to be drunk...
walking is one,
the other...
       i wanted to experience a hamsa...
     i was going to do the whole hand,
but i figured: spare some of that ink
for what you're going to write on your grandfather's
80th birthday card...
poor ******...
     he still remembers getting sweets from
two SS-men in black,
  sweets that would stick his hands together...
he still remembers how his uncle
laid in a patch of green, shot dead,
how the russian soldiers would rather prefer
to sleep in the barns with the goats
on hay rather than in beds,
how most of them were teenagers...
and how my grandmother's ultimate insult
to him was: that he was a skurwysyn:
  *******...
     well... he does have 3 other brothers...
half-brothers...
                         eh... clown needs to juggle?
however bad he was...
we did go fishing together...
    but now that he's demented...
and has a dementia routine...
                    it's hard to tell what it feels
in this, transition period of the perils of
us, the mortal men...
                  i could never associated mortality
with any sort of morality,
other than it being dictated by one's
own ambition: to keep as many people
from my private life as possible.
           so when my jewish neighbor
recently converted to islam drops by and
comments about my barber skills:
you and my son look like you've just been
released from auschwitz birkenau...
we laugh...
            and how it suits me... beard and all...
monk...
      cool cool...
   i'm still studying the qabbalah...
                    christianity became... too poverty
stricken for me, in terms of points of reference...
although not circumcised...
why would i be?
                          that extra bit of skin is
for me to not be ashamed of jerking off once
in a while...
   pije... pali... konia wali.

            and this is where the: right hand doesn't
know what the left hand is doing...
regarding chiromancy...

              tzayach's...
i tattooed over chokhmah,
                chesed and netzach....
for the love of god...
there's no     girdle of venus on either
of my hands...
  either hand looks like there's
a letter imprinted on them: M...
                i had a "fwend" in high school
once... god, what is it with the muslims...
either they want to **** you,
or convert you!
    started his own muslim chiromancy...
talked **** about how there's
the number 72 on my hands...
the number of names of the goat-blood
                               allah god...

no... i'm pretty ******* sure that's an M...
anyway...

p.s.
and then you look up those words ref.
chiromancy...
                 as ever, better to bewilder yourself
with what's in front of you,
in your posession than to *******
yourself around the zodiac brothel of
          ... well... even the zodiac killer
is more fascinating than all this: "constellations
talk"... yeah, and a paragraph of
marquis de sade's writing is more
of a hard-on than some harlequin novel!

i tattooed over the words:
    chokhmah...     in the sefirot tree:
wisdom... yah...
            chesed...        ditto:
    love... el...
               netzach...             ditto:
victory... adonoy tzevaot...
   2, 4, 7... those are the allocated numbers
to the sefirot tree...
   whether or not gematria is your thing...
because i'm the type of, "guy",
that likes the maxim: i'll meet you half-way,
now you meet me, half-way...

how could any muslim,
think i could convert,
  to the brat ******* son of christianity,
who keeps nagging,
and nagging, and punching and screaming...
if, that is, monotheism is a noble cause...
why would i look toward
the evolutionary direction...
no past, only forward,
how much of darwinism is about:
forward...
   all our ancestors were idiots...
ah... but what will those,
who will inherit what we... floundered think,
of us?
         not much, by the looks of things...
what have i done?
   to love wisdom,
is to find victory...
   the will, will come from itself,
and the power, vested in it,
i don't need to look for the "logos"
via the christian deity...
   i merely look at the genesis of the idea...
Heraclitus...
            and that's it...
and why do i do "stupid" things when drinking...
like pretending to tattoo my hand?
i do not possess the luxury of dreaming...
rarely... i do, but mostly:
it's the abyss that entertains me...
so i have to do something stupid
within the framework of a "today",
that i might sharpen my memory for
a "tomorrow"...

       i have nothing to learn from
the christians...
                  i might as well turn to paganism
if, and only if,
my... deposed fascination with
judaism diminishes...
                    i don't even care whether
i'm a jew or not, a yew: paraphrasing
the prefix from yiddish...
those people, were citizens of Paul-on-a-leash...
land...
                this is the best i can offer...
i'm not... **** like the ******* caduceus
of protruding veins wrapping
the ******* intact?

****... here's a chimera for you:
**** of a Hermes, heart of a...
     head of a...
                  feet of a...
and a tail of a dobberman-albino-monkey:
when it was still aesthetically pleasing
to trim the ears and cut off the tail
of that particular dog breed!
   and... i'm still drinking...
                      what have you...
bitter, inconsistent, whatever you like...
i'll just trap this in the internet index,
open a newspaper from sunday,
that big one, format,
                   the old school way of reading
an english newspaper:
   having once tried folding a page
on the tube (underground)...
              never mind, thank god i still have
my *******...
i don't look like a ******* loser
all of the time jerking off
without having one...
         yeah: i'm pretty sure the kippah
has something to do with:
the imitation game, of medieval monk's
donning the tonsure haircut.

p.p.s. em... revision, it was actually U-235...
and the core of a nuclear power-plant...
being exposed...
   like 40 ******* Hiroshima explosions
in one hour, non-verbatim...
but Chernobyl was a ghost town
without the sort of tourism manifesto
of Zionists...
who would have to revisit
the grave of their ancestry...
                  no "big" deal though...
m'eh, just a little glitch...
no children in Frankfurt being told
to not play outdoors...
just a glitch...
                the holocaust is forever
the major no. 1 human disaster...
pre-planned...

     say... why study jurisprudence,
when not having studied the thesaurus
helps, i mean:
isn't all of the jursprudent concept
based upon access to a thesaurus,
aren't all nouns: "suspect",
readied for the synonym spaghetti
counsil? no? my bad?

  oh, oh... good to know! really great,
great to know: who the ****
is peddling this sort of *******!
weasels.
even your own shadows will
not forgive you...
mark my word...
whether angels, demons,
your own shadows will not forgive
you...
you'll be dancing the *******
1518 dancing plague:
whether you like it or not!

      let's take a summary:
what looks worse,
Chernobyl or, Auschwitz?
how many tourists visit Auschwitz,
how many tourists visit Chernobyl?
hmm...
    tough number to crack open
for comparison...
          this is the one time i will
craft a crux for / of moral relativism...
who was gagging for it,
and... who wasn't... when it happened:
"out of the blue"?
        let's just say:
Chernobyl wasn't premeditated...
Auschwitz, was...
           now i did start learning
about the qabbalah for a reason:
the holocaust wasn't the worst horror
of the 20th century,
the 20th century prime tattoo of historical
events: wasn't Auschwitz...
       and i will, continue,
to learn qabbalah, denoucning my "christianity",
for this, sole, reason...
the yews, jews, yids,
aren't the only people alive in this world,
i'm not going to buy into this
solipsistic narrative complex...
esp. when i will, forthrightly:
denounce who was crucified...
      i'm done... with the unearthing of
the nag hammadi library in 1945,
complimented by the josephus ben matthias
historian...
             how jesus, "son of god"
played chinese whispers in the gosepl of
st. thomas...
   n'ah... n'ah mate... i'm done...
            find yourself a ******* imam
or a rabbi: my mind is made up!
ich will tanz diese tango...
              egal du wie es, oder nicht!
sorry... whether deutsche or not,
west saxon grammar translates itself:
*** essex bound.

the upper-house of the *****: the slaughterhouse...
  that / the / it...
    "        
"ta" wyższa-izba rzeszy: rzeźń... point to argue:
                                           rzeźnia...
why then... am i conjuring up
a don't from a do not...
    with the shortening: rzeźń?

i hardly don't know what to make
of the post 2004 mass migration
from the newly acquired: "proto-roman empire"
expansion project from those
Belgian chocolatiers...
          if this is a joke of the vierte *****...
which it is... the drei ***** and the 1000 years...

depends on the locality of said tongue...
once a token ******... never a token... ******...
not when the beer and sausages were shipped:
i never felt more, nor less:
home...             beside the ground on
which i stand?
                    all this talk of home...
home... dom... the sky?
               wait until another whimsical trickle
of russian or german to settled the matter?
will then: herr... zeitundimmerstrikt  &
                       товарищ сейчасзагадка...

mellow this... branch of the house of ßaß...
                  
- hardly an impromptu -
      there was no chance that a polish-liathuanian
commonwealth would
"come back" together...

  not through the civil war: that can hardly
be deemed a civil war...
which - whatever the beginnings...
the ukranian cossack uprising...

and sweden and russia and the ottoman
empire nibbling...

what arose or was drawn with better
stencils than the middle-east...
            only left "us" with...
a sub-group of people that...
spoke their own gvara (vulgate)...

whatever was left of "us"...
sooner or later died... L'viv was deserted...
the Volhynia...
                   "schizoid"...

that "we" didn't become the prior to
Yugoslavia...
the difference were already apparent...
the Galicians and the Kashubians...
i'd venture as far as to call the Masovians
the Prussians of this little nugget of land...
let's in part call one the Welsh...
and the other Scots...
              but... no more will a Miłosz...
or a Mickiewicz cite odes to Lithuania...
when what was Lithuania a lore ago...
   which it isn't now...      a baltic enclave...

how terrible of me to come with
the beer and the sausages and the sourdough...
i blame that on the 2004 spike...
they're all returning home...
     a "home" the remains soon to be written off...
the grandparents...
soon to be written off...
             i'll be coming "home" like
a ******* tourist... perhaps one day...
Toruń will oblige me with me in it...
or Lublin...

                 to have made a home out out
Edinburgh...
         hell... if Cardiff could have retained
an old quarter... of architecture... i'd have settled
for it and took up lessons in Welsh...

and, this is not a joke:
why won't you find, a willing rabbi...
to convert you...
the muslims on the other hand...
are so willing: i was a german on edgeware rd.
once...
why won't you find a willing rabbi...
to convert you?
if it was only a "concern of detail"
for the kippah and a circumcision...
but... over-arching... you weren't "chosen"...
proselyte...
   what's the definition in islam...
not apostate: not a non-believer...

a proselyte: pawns on a game of chess...
that they were nurtured without
their own knowing...
   the mamluks and the janissary...
                
such grand words being thrown about...
  Galicia... Ruthenia...
        
the old world with the old words:
oculus per oculus - an eye for an eye...
           guilt a burden of both the righteous
and the ignominious:
that... a wisdom bound to serve:
a toothpick... since a chopstick does not
suffice!

  guilt: a burden shared by both the guilty:
and the guiltless...
           that i should be the one to know:
the difference of good AND evil...
one and the same... a "working progress"...
well: with AND...
i probably, i suspect:
  that i shouldn't be able to state:
EITHER good OR evil...
           i have to drag this empty coffin
to the burial ground...
to know the difference between: good AND evil
is NOT:
   you will be able to say:
it's EITHER good OR bad...
                             good and evil muddled...
it this... grand... spectacular:
"plot twist"!

           home is where i decide to pluck
consonants and vowels from:
apart from the spike circa 2004... no more...
i just need the minor distinction of letters...
if you'd want to see what sort
of a catholic church whip! and leash!
came after: pope! saint! jean-paul II...
  to have this man glorified...
for simply kissing airport tarmack like
a muslim imitation of prayer...

      the greatest footballers from the former:
satellite commonwealth: "whittle poland"...
of the 1970s... polish jazz...
    the cold war blanket...
              typo riddled scripts itching to get out
of east Berlin and G.D.R. - Berlin, Prague?
****... Cracow - hardly the selling point...
nor is Bratislava or... Masovian Minsk...

Sorbian? yeah yeah... that Serbian of the north...
gentlemen! we have infiltrated zee *****!
   ode to the: Lusatians and the Wends!
project glasgow! speak us much of a joseph
merrick english as is required:
but no diacritical markers!
   leave the "concept" of orthography to Dickens...
making a survey of: d'ah d'um 'uck of
cockney and 'ears... p'p'***...

                clearly i do not require enclaves...
or... those... birmingham esque minarets...
          i'd very much like to keep my ******...
since "i've" lost the lithuanian to project: подчищать это!

the ukranians: bandy УПА...
     the croat nazis: NDH...
                      the ukranians can settle their... ahem...
"differences" with the tsar and tsarina...
but i'm happy to have indulged in the smuggling
to tobacco... case in point:
lately from Romania... and Moldova:
which could perhaps be: one and the same...
the selling price in england: circa 10 quid...
on the black market? stepping up to 5 quid a packet...
once upon a time: three-and-a-fifty (pence)...

limitations of "******* anonymous"...
   peerage... eyes looking up...
         the lost stars... the moon and sun...
                thus gained?
            impromptu suggestion:
                glued to a hypnosis of a...
            mantis... slobber-mouth... smeared
with tummy-juices...
    and nothing of a LOL...
                        when... at least back then:
clean-shaven... it wouldn't have mattered...
to reverse the: gorge-job...
came the slippery p.s. from gomorrah:
we eats ******* 'ere...
*****: ergo: no go zone-out...
    postulating the birth of a tapeworm
from a sprout of squeezed acne... plush: said
the very-berry and... and over-matured plum
and pear trickle graffiti...

which brings no known point of introspection
when she's doing her:
milan kundera moment:
do you pierce - the eyes are a needle
and a thread: and there's also a camel...
which very much depends on kissing
the lips and... gorging on a "flower"...

spaced-out monkey-zombie brains...
endowed... h'america... a land of lazily associated
english sounding town-names...
around noon: father fatigue...
           crisp cut: mississippi lobotomy blues...
is a ****-muncher a citizen of gomorrah?
that's not a question, not, really...

             imagine william burroughs attempting
to write a comic book script...
while shooting shelves of paint urns
onto a canvas: what sort of comic book
reads when pursuing an adventure into
Kandinsky?
                   it's not pretentious it's not
indigenous: but a proper bacon wrap is done
so... with a dollop of h.p. sauce...
period...

milking the natives shying away under
the moon and crescent:
look no further! from under the hammer and
sickle... sun and scythe...
from under the iron curtain into
this limbo la-la-land of: the silicon macabre:
niqab'aeh...
   that: ma'caaaaa (b) (surd) - almost...
forget the trill... the rattle-snake...
                              the peerage of: your lordship!

           pleateau of the readily available
butcher's choice... murking the waters...
  there will never be enough of mud...
  to cover these tracks of ***** and celeste!

   tyler bates - cucksocker;
******* on corks with no screws...
after the fire - der kommissar...
            
a soundtrack for all those "girlfiends" you'd
want to top up with...
when playing videogames...

no... beyond the scope of tenchu:
i lost the plot of peering onto a canvas
that seemed to borrow too much
from the mario bros. respite...
the detail: the graphics:
the sims and the simps and all those
words that never:
was it merely i... or did...
graffiti simply: do the dodo project
act and antic?!

           party time at the brothel:
does it matter they're all bulgarian pretending
to be romanian?
does it?
        
this goes pop... i'll be rummaging in my grave
trying to curb my shadow from
turning into a neon-flare:
but i won't...
                    this is registered under
the "pseudonym" of under-paid: sent...
i lick the envelope...
i lick the stamp...
imagine my disbelief that i suddenly
do not become a philatelist!

                the cheap cigarettes is a'plenty...
i will never wish or hope or dream...
of disturbing that 'appy 'appy land
of psychopaths and the beatles *****
taking a sly turn via
ohio having a punctured rubber...
because in the land of cain...
celebrated as they are: those *******...
no...
      not "here" not "anywhere": not " now"...
h'america i'll be most glad to look
away from...
       but thank you thank you: much kudos...
and the IRA have served up
their signature to the collective
research project...
stemming from the chants of Tehran...
via the...
             we had coffee over in Beirut...
at the time when...
all the trash-workers were working
on the symphony concerning
                    down syndrome's take on
h'arab schpring!

Tyrone in Tangiers: in the 1960s...
because love of man for man...
back when...
   harems and polygamy was all a rage
among the arabs...
it was either jerking off..
joining the army...
finding the next of kin and kin:
"plumbing issue"...
to eat out ****... became equivalent to
butterflies...
and the gardener imploring:
i! hippocrates!

                 strobe disco lights... epilepsy challenge!
cue lazarus: goodbye rodeo!
               that boyfriend you could...
but this isn't Prague...
    and there's no... you could:
or an i hope to: either...
Berlin green... elsewhere all but blue...
but in germ-and-the-many...
it's: gween...
              
                    neon-gween...
       ­                             exfoliations of the ****...
when... sitting the crucified pose
of being strapped to the throne of thrones...
all that is required of us...
is to...
        rummage... sift... and...
                     place into rubric cages...
these following items...
sacrilege (a)...
             sacrilege (b)...
                            lacklustre concerns for
catholic intellect... beside the pompous fwench:
item (c)...
the crucifix is an instrument of torture:
i hear avow... the need to gesticulate...
prayer... before the altar of the womb of mary:
the ******... the iron maiden!
i will consecrate my knees...
and my quote of shakespeare: as to how
hands do the bidding of lips...
when monks pray and... sub-se-quen-tly...
n'est ce pas?

                                  enough! the curtain
is about to fall sacred: to either the sound of silence...
to the hush of aghast... or.... applause!

   a tale of david: the story of...
because... somehow... the same letter...
had to find exfoliation in: beside geometry...
how nabla married deltu...
            ∇                       Δ

both of the same "eye"...
         ∇: this is moses...
                     Δ: this is, "the" pharaoh...

              please... no amount of shoeline...
or... these... the pork not eaten:
because not kosher: made into shoes
and belts... will do away...
with judaism and her ha-gar: sarah:
islam... the son of the cocubine... ishamel...
islam...

desert people politics...
      such are the affairs of people who know
only sand, wind - water and shade...
who have no concern or concept for:
the fern and the pig... the forest...
and the siberia tundra...

"we" were "invited" and at the same time...
appealing to the rationing of "beliefs"
lost by the greeks...
doubly lost by the plagiarism of the romans...
zeus became jupiter: the sacking of troy...
blah blah:
keeping onto a past: when asking a people:
who, "had, no, past"!

          in praise of older women...
one comes to mind... Khadija **** Khuwaylid...
muhammad was illiterate, yes?
who wrote the first verses of the quran?
mein gott! a woman!
when all turned against him...
and before... he could... somehow... much later...
find his metaphysical bride: Ayisha...
blah blah centuries later:
toying with a kandinsky!
toying with a kandinsky!
    to hell with a linear narrative:
the "proverb run quote":
i'll sooner watch a cactus grow from my
outstretched hand... than i'll see the germans
re-unified...
so was the saying...
and so is the "counter" and "proof"...

        "home"... what a nice... sleeping-beauty
concept of / for concerns...
oculus per oculus...
                      because christianity wasn't
spreading fast enough...
and that new adventures up north
would only be revealed much later:
jawohl! mein kommandant!

                    did islam... emerge: to speed up
the process?
of turning... the crucifix... into anything
more than what was already required?!
a Q's worth of a *****?

          forgive me... if i don't pay homage
to this... hieroglyph... perhaps i might:
tool a "dyslexic" impromptu or tow: two!

by the time islam emerged...
               it took another 600 years to convert
lithuania: which poland defended...
       no matter: "we're" to blame for...
what?!
                 Q - the ***** and the egg...
which also means:
eqqs: ekks: not eggs...    
i try to eat at least one poultry
abortion a morning most willing come!

can shadows filter: dust-sodden-clay?