and there's still that elusive concept of
a tomorrow, made into a summar:
how to work well with pork belly,
somehow integrate a fennel root into
the equation...

and... well... for every trans-woman...
out "there"... there has to be a joker
to every batman "concerning"
a meta-man...

if trans-woman is so widely accepted:
without a flinch or
puffed up doughnut cheeks
that are supposed to ease out a smile...
then, yeah...

trans-woman is bonkers...
we're still talking about men,
aren't we?
i am a trans-woman requires me
to fathom: sex-change...
so genesis: a man...

well then... i'm a meta-man...
this will never catch on...
since... (b) since there's no (a)
implies that...
last time i've heard the physics of this world
hasn't changed....
nor will the metaphysics...
and if the "head" is not in its
"right" place...

brain for worth of jargon
and all that once came but now has to come
from a pickling jar of testickles...
"confused"...

for every trans-woman there's a meta-man...
beside this current,
a-bollocks alphabetical-arithmetic
of "concept" and "concerns"
for hierarchy...
the... alpha-male... the beta-, -male...
look... they went as far as to give
the omega- prefix status...
it's not longer a letter:
it's an integral part of a prefix...

and a meaning... directly... focusing
on the pyramid... structure and
a staccato...
staccato what could have been
a diacritical mark: but never was...

vermin and bookworms...
from and toward what...
dare i compare dust on a bookshelf
to ash in reincarnations'
cranium god-send of a crown
that was to be attached
to the head by grinding teeth
to manage: donning it?

what else: if not a counter?
if there exists a trans-woman...
then there must exist...
a meta-man...

what's left? ortho-politics?
ha! ha ha!
and the prefix para-? will that help?
i'm out... alpha prefix and cursor
dynamic of:
when was the last time we could
have possibly staged a healthy,
competitive... tennis match?

when the "curious" demise of
bewilderment...
injecting money into the NHS and wondering
"where did it all go"...
sure... the immigrants...
but i also thought that...
bureucracy is a glutton...
it's a sponge that can suck up money
like water...
where: give a man a fish
and you'll feed him for a day...
give a man a fishing rod...

works well within the confines of
bureucracy...
for me bureucracy is a synonym of democracy...
words in: BOLD...

if i were the last aardvark...
or the most horrid: when i was a young water hog...
england: a socialist arm
confined to a capitalist body...

i'm actually not that bothered in
that i am... when i get a chance to play a game
of: beside the chess of white pawn black pawn...
we're playing a game...
an escape from crossword puzzles...
or at least that's what's most gratifying
to be spectating...

we're still playing some sort of game...
a game doesn't involve gambling...
a game doesn't involve speculation...
or an investement in moving chess pieces
that could be translated into a pound coin,
a penny, a 10 quid banknote,
the 5 pence etc.,

but i'm bothered... to have to listen
to the sort of english that would otherwise
require me to sit in a classroom...
don a catholic school boy uniform and
sit calm, collected, with a teacher by the altar
of a blackboard...

if they were... less forceful... less demanding...
those idiots and non idiots...
those... something invoking a bypass...
people i don't want dead...
rather... people i want to be... or become...
abstract... a circumstance of having them
coexist with me, but having the ability to cage
them in a generous drift into both
the abstract and pomposity: for their sake...
not mine...

i want to remain: most hidden,
shadow, vermin... scuttling with my demands
into the parliament of deaf ears...
perhaps the mountain will settle for
becoming a jehovah for me in this,
it can substitute me...
pan zastępów
(herr antithesis of reincarnation)...
democracy, allowing me to vote...
i can vote... but... i'm not exactly sure whether
i can speak...
what, good, is, that?

oh but if language is to flow like blood...
can i quest for a question
akin to...

what is the objective value of gold...
when being staged (in question)
for the objective value of wheat?

boring is the quest for a question answered:
to consolidate the universal with
the particular of Socrates...

that was too much:
the universal was never to be consolidated
with the particular...
since... we had to rest
upon the object / subject dilemma:

bend me at the knee...
then break my on the spine...
tilt my head toward a heaven
where the only solace is the moon...
and i will count you the required
number of constellations
and the respective number of stars
bound to them...

wheat: the object...
perhaps bread / pasta is an object too...
but it's more a subject than an object...
the object transitions from a per se...
into... and out of...
and then back into:
an ingredient... but bread it much more
than a rubric follow-up...
it's a talking matter...
something requiring baking...
and the dasein of bakers...

however many hands touch raw
gold... the end is the same as the beginning...
not much changes...
whatever metallurgy magic elevated
the raw rough...
the pursuit and its demand are
as hollow as...
knock-knock on termite hollowed-out
timber...

in the end wheat becomes flour
becomes bread...

gold? gold remains gold remains gold...
insufferable, this process...
in giving it the highest value...
then having to dress it up in
geometry... a ring and coin and what not...

you take wheat: it becomes flour...
it becomes bread...

now apply that to gold...
it still has to go through twice as many transformations:
but it does't change its value...
it's "somehow" inbred a priori...

and people are to be expected to be:
sensible, reasonable... objective...
yet all this passed-on subjectivity surrounding gold!

we're flicking switches,
opening doors... throwing stones...
what is so complex arranging these simple
words into such simple sentences?