to have been cheated so

we went fishing, we went cycling...
the best years
circa 2002 through to some other
circa...
we went to forever distant places...
we allowed ourselves to
stomach heights of mountains...
now come to "think" of it...
i have tabloid and graffiti where
bow-ties and mourning should be...
the world just preserves
this insistence to continue:
with or without a status quo...
because today i am shuffling into
a currency: the world so happens...
the anglophone sphere is
insomniac awaiting election
results... i'm hardly invested in it...
i wish to be so oh so concerned...
that i might forget - yet now remember:
the reconquista of much
of europe for the ottoman turks...
but it's not like the turks are arabs...
never mind...
               i itch with skin i tease
myself over an asset that's these eyes...
i sip a glass of water,
ciemnota that is gladly ruled over
by counterfeit, bb'ah'ah... bb'ah'ah...
actors...
less of what's to be done
and more of what's to be...
how i imagine myself being (a) man
rather than doing the expected
manly-"thing"...
          if it was oh so simple
that we were all born turtles...
with knowledge of plumbing apparatus....
i am less as being
and forever diminishing as having
done... employed by a "miracle"
of the undo...
               revision quest...
there's no reality of a gaping hole
or: ex nihil stalking me:
  no: born of death....
              latin! latin!
          natus ex mors...
we went fishing and how we bicycled
around a never-ending stupidity
how i extended my youth
while you preserved your old age...

grandma was a bitch to the last...
no?
  3 months to spare...
she could have noted: he's not feeling
well... some aid would be nice...
i feel cheated my heart
thrown into a heap of stones...
i'm expecting a heaving lung
in return...
not this close...
not from family this anger arch... ing
to subdue my unfathomable
shadow, come noon,
come the moon:
puppet! how's lore?!

she could have called and said:
instead of 2 day's worth of baggage:
you're in the hospice breathing
your last...
i wake up to a tomorrow
and hear the north.east.west.south...
apparently you're dead...

for all those estranged examples
of dictated family...
i should have extracted ms. bitch
from your wife: my grandmother:
how she would suddenly be found
gloating: pinning you to
a pampers shit soaked... etc.
gruesome details: n'est ce pas?

she was so adamant about inheriting
your pension...
she was moreover adamant
on me taking out 500zł each day:
it's not like you amassed a lot of savings
to begin with...

over 7K... dutiful grandson...
i remember when she first encouraged me....
you were drunk and i would be stealing
pennies from your trouser pockets
left hanging on a chair in a room
of much darkening...

well... there's no unthinking this one
through: i'm the better drunk than
you will ever be: i fathom a need to
write some odd doodle while you
were exhausting the last remains
of memory cinema...

i'm gaining friction from people who
have started to notice:
i am not using english
with any orthodoxy, catholicism or
the sushi entree of protestantism...
looks like this language
i alone must own:
i will not be among the throng
of false prophets speaking
to the natives for corrections...

i own all that is readily available...
the natives can go burn
wickers and churches: in all honesty!

TUMANY...

                   it's theirs? they loosely(,)
just disguised themselves:
as... hinter...
          and the lapsing of aggrieved:
solo quests...
their native language doesn't translate
back...
it's theirs or is it simply mine?
how much this integration will allow...
i need more heads decapitated
saluting lazy tongues on pikes:
i am sure!
before the zombies will start sleeping: again!

if i were to stress my:
formality all too readily...
i remember days when we used to go
to school...
and meningitis was rife...
and a rifle too...
and we complied to the details
of the herd...

but not this, not now...
i can get a haircut i also can:
sure as hell wait for an irritating death
from a toothache!
sooner the pains from
a bad-hair-day...
i'm waiting for my teeth to
grow into fangs...
into elephant-esque tusks...
since my mouth will be unable
to impossibly keep them...
but my hair is more prompted
as: kept attention of "detail"...

suicide never made more sense:
all the excuses are in situ:
on the ready...
and i wouldn't even want
to blame these explorers...

             as ever: english in the "gulag":
how dasein translates into
"concern":
how happiness could ever be
substituted for inquisitiveness...
mind you: my eyes are darting
fathoming a whirlwind...
a roller-coaster...

i was debriefed by happiness
once...
i left the same sullen & sulk
signature as i ever might...
it didn't budge teasing an amassing
zombie-feud...
to begin or end with...
after all... i was born into a land-mass
that once claimed pride...
from sea to sea:
the baltic and the black sea
was, "in question"...

land-locked manoeuvres -
too many fucking vowels!
too many fucking vowels!
              there was a part of me
that somehow understood the genius
of the russians:
hence all that jazz of russophobia...
but there was no need
for claustrophobia and a siberia
pairing...
ugly feelings: mostly hurt...
or somewhat...
the terrible price of disgruntling
a slab of turk:
having confused it with a slobbering
over, over a camel jockey's arab
surprise...

saudi promises regarding
yemen...
                and all that was to remain
of bahrain...
like syria...
thank god for the closures
of the "ummah"...
bite the horn: ring the tonsils:
a church bell's worth of an uvula!
tongue this gluey
extract: my teeth a soothing
coming together: hey presto!
a shell for this slothing cringe
feast...

my grandmother with 3 months spare...
you told me:
ring me each month...
check up on my whereabouts...
i could have expected so much
from strangers...
"fwends"...
not from the ugliest
floral pattern of cunt that was
a granny..
you were a drunk:
i'm a better drunk of the whole lot
of us two: twinned...

this unrelenting presence:
to have been allowed witness of your body
so well fashioned for
a funeral: mr. navy...
mr. now...
            
        i suppose a thank you is in order...
81 years in waiting is
the only way to die...
there's no need to tease turtles
with envy that extends into
a century...

now i want to remember edinburgh
through 2004 to 2007...
it could have been manchester...
it could have been an itch
like southampton...
pressure me... creases of
a Penzance... reverse the tide i probably
couldn't...

perhaps i want to chase learning
a game of chess...
perhaps i want to relive those summers
i lay on the balcony and read
the books i read..
in your abrahamic bosom...
cheap-chow-mein-of-wording...
here's me... better clued-in...
better suited to sniffing the porno-feel
of 1980s pop music...

little ol' grandma i will hardly:
perhaps at best in my heart
i'll be wanting to piss on her grave...
perhaps i was expecting
something dramatic...
some phenomenon...
naturally... esque-borne revelation...
some earthquake some
waking into...

not how you seemingly "merely", "passed"....
ol' grandma: i wish to have her
shackled into a niqab: because
i last sentence these provocations
when i wilt to solve the crossword puzzles
with a 7am and a coffee...

death didn't rob me of what
you had already stressed:
the mortal feign...
            i had 3 months to spare...
detail for me the breaking
of the riddle of conscience...
                 i have to heave this last
salvage pin-point...

while "we" must be dictating....
people's loop
crescendo limiting bogus....
hey no new presto!
welcome
to grief... the limbo cowing-tie...
my litany of arbeit:
macht... frei...

             now that i dare
merely think it...
robespierre...
                 i heave ol'
yo-yo... because no one
would heave such
exhaustions.