Emiety – Short, pop story.

All felt like a shackle. She pushed and pulled, attacked and retreated: The fetters that attached her to life frayed; what she hated solidified, the chain’s locks tightening, un-tethering her soul and passions from the everyday stroll. Perhaps Emily sowed colours and ideas that simply would not match.

The tiring effects of the light, radiating from the pretentious chandeliers that hung at every opportunity and space the ceiling presented, matched Emily’s senile movements. “Hi, sir, would you like anything to drink,” she said, contriving a smile incongruous to anxiety vibrating inside… “No, thank you,” replied the sullen face, his now loose skin imprinting a permanent ‘sulk’ for his temperament. Though she knew it was an affront to her, even though it was not. “Ahh, why am I met with such reactions.” Her hand’s skin fraying unremittingly with every bleach soaked scoop of the dark brown tables. In fact, Emily’s hands were wrapped in cloth most of the day; her limbs functioned as a mop. She hastened to lay the scooped dirt on the cleaners, emancipating herself from the responsibility, a benefit that emanated resentment among co-workers. The skilfully sustained room temperature pierced with every swing of the kitchen door; a rush of heat with each shimmer of the saute chef and jarring temperatures accompanying the impressive work of the kitchen porters: Fluctuating temperatures intensify as the distance with door narrowed. Fellow waiters shifted from table to table, replacing each empty glass and answering all in-considerate demands of customers, smiles seldom abandoning their faces. The door swung on more time, the air crashing into her face, strangling, metamorphosing into a harness, enslaving her… Heads move to and fro on the other-side of the door’s circular window, etched with dark-green lines, forming tiny boxes…

A motley mixture of faces – some sad, most manic – almost converged into one: A diamond-shaped face, with angelic curves – reality and loss of it crashed into each-other… Sporadic bursts of lustre images and colours battered every thought and pierced every attempted interaction with reality it converged with – incessantly moving towards being a constant. A shudder passed through her body, shaking her limbs to near-numbsness as she pushed open the kitchen door… not her mind detached, her body moved without her consent… The image of a beautiful angel, a creature with glowing, ever-changing colours maintained a static imprint in her mind… She wanted to smile, her heart aching; but her mouth did smile – not with her free will – without her consent. The apex of her mouth enjoyed the image as much as the heart. She did not want this to abandon her, though anxiety culminated, her body flushing with the Siberian cold and the North African deserts’ heat wave…

To be continued…

My bed, my world

My bed is the vessel that punctures the most vicious of waves

The mind alive; I am stasis, organless in the cave.

Days and seasons pass in my wake; then a dish of change bakes: The ingredients confused, the chef on a break.

Let’s wassail to health, until the flavour is fused to define my stake.



Why I care less

The sorrow has been evaded or I have diverged to a new destination – indifference, perhaps. Fascination with saving the world – a tool for morbid occupation with grandiose ideas. I remember day-dreaming about being the principle barer of peace amid a war: A megaphone in my grasp, I would exclaim: “Stop, you are not designed to kill each-other for brutes that care nothing for you.” The last time this image passed through my consciousness I was eight and until its final ingress, the image gradually declined in vividness – the sounds, vapid. I am not going to venture to save the earth or the species from its eventual demise. I am inert to the point of being inept in this humanity business.

Altruism is the thief of hearts, the renderer of nonsense onto our moral understanding and discourse in ethics. Everyone is in delirium about it: The Youtuber consternates when his/her channel is not flooded with admiration about his/her kind heart: “How I housed a homeless man”; “A cop buys shoes for a poor kid”, etc. An affable face of declining media discourse and capitalism, the cop who defends the brutal system against its victims, have riveted their understanding of life to a false sense of morality… the bona fide audience rests intellect for easy, quick, simple emotional solutions to the problem: Charity of the lowest form. Here, the sage of revolution or change, may already be dis-heartened and join the cynics.

The liberal confuses, solemnly, the Nazi treatment of Jews with the revolutionary reaction against Nazis. “We must give them a platform to speak.” So they are elected thanks to skewed notions of change and false altruism that strokes the backs of the rising idiots class: a group of people, the new generation, that can imagine zombie apocalypse but is too imprudent to forsee a better world – a future without zombies and a post-nuclear war landscape. Yes! The worthless, valueless millennial even sees himself, only himself, herself, in the destruction of our species and collapse of civilisation. But one must not worry, for they have liked the altruism of others and the good people.

The revolutionary is confused, the peace is hastening further… Where do we begin with the so easily offended crowd; savage beings with not an iota of self-existence, but a meager dew from the waterfall of superfluous unity… They are unified under the gains lazily ascribed to liberalism. The millennial, his beard touching his toes, her hair a different dye from last week, Starbucks coffee half full, quirky nickname scribble on the plastic cup, perceives itself a constituent part of humanitarian apex, for the LGBT community may fuck in peace, women now have jobs and, of course, these are all naturally evolutions of ‘time’ and not the result of deep, violent struggles of men and women… the liberal millennial revels in the profits gained by the struggles of people who struggled for the very system they claim brought us these rights… And, never-mind the declining life of poor, single women or the farmers forced to pick the coffee beans; let’s us not discuss the LGBT muslim’s life under the millennial hero’s ally, the Saudia Royal family. Their only defence is the other-side.

Of course one requires the inferiority of the other to re-assert oneself. Yes! Trump and his supporters are emblematic of the anti-matter of this amazing merger of change and time… “Ah, Trump is racist, I hate him,” he will say. “Not every muslim is bad,” he will cry. But never will he, she, ever think of his or her own nation’s crimes that resulted in the formation of these Islamic ‘terrorists’; nor will it occur to them – perhaps their own soldiers are terrorists… “Not all cops are bad,” they will say, while the baton incessantly punctures the skin of many, filling the streets with the blood of the honourable. Oh! It is the bad cop, the KKK office, the trump-supporting minority in the department that makes the rest look bad… Of course it is not the racist, sexist, classist laws, the slavery of the prison industrial complex – the totem of the profane existence of racism… no, no, just a few baddies. The discourse oscillates between the fool and the racist; the rest of us are dismissed because a man name Stalin killed 90 trillion people and therefore we must be wrong before we even speak or think.

It is late, the screen is way too bright, I am tired, tomorrow is a new day and I do not care enough to elaborate. So, I will day-dream about a lover, a friend or the next book I will read or, maybe I’ll foray into the world of wine and list the brand that’ll accompany me while I stare down at the burning world in silence – Placid. Keep your increasing abhorrent ideas of humanity to yourself.

Art to life’s strife

Sonnets must ensue with every conversation;

pouring a drink is art…

I must paint over my aversion – to life. Today I am in strife – again.

I remember her: She stares down on my dreams; a spectator with me…

I love her eyes behind thickets; her laughter in a busy city…

The rukus with self is passing… “I am ok, we will be fine,” I hear her voice in her absence.

I am alone, baby, save me…

You are the key… unlock my pathos, I want to live, venture in it…art

Or… I am a mere snippet.

I must drink her love from the start; Epistles induce in our kiss.

Seeping romance is art… the drink pours itself from the start…

The cute girl cafe

She incessantly ripped what she wrote; who taught her this, I suspect a musing of a therapist. A person who believes to speak from an edifice.

Rip your withering: Therapeutic;

To destroy art is perdition: Therapy is mythopoeic.


A sip of Arabica, she gazed up – a contrived smile.

My book on the table: She stole looks at it – a woman interested.

A blossoming girl…

Men venturing this pearl – They lay inertia, trembling.


London is a place where nothing exciting happens. All hap and stance, any adventure finds root only in the mind. It is venue for an exhibition of humans who are now products. Their smiles vary according to ‘material’ persona; nothing outside the egotistical trait of the market exists. Everything and everyone is a product and everything and everyone is depicted according the flow of individual status, created by what one has, how they look, their car, how they feel about a place… Discussions persists of “but I”; “But I like London and fun in places like Soho: The external world is surrendered to a horse-view: The decay is fine; homeless people can surround the streets; who cares if every pathway leads to only the exchange of money for a product; it does not matter as long as individual market driven impulses are met. “I have fun paying insane amounts of money for alcohol [to drown my conscience]” succeeding a week of hard work, little pay, constant worthlessness and meaninglessness: The only meaning that exists a-prior to leisure time, is how the exchange of your finances materialise in the products you buy and which meaninglessness, brainless activity one will choose to drain the conscience that asks for more and yearns for empathy, wants to negate the empty material persona of a so called “cosmopolitan” city.
So what can we do but create an abstract work in our minds, isolated from a debauched world. Isn’t it even more real than what the ‘symbolic’ world has to offer ? It gets tiring to live in a place where one can predict the flow of the day to its T, the reactions of people, as though they are a bunch of walking memes. They dress the same, look the same, are im-patient with the doings of those who cannot find their ‘product’.

Finesse of love

There is a girl… A few, de facto – alas. But she is different…
I drift away with her; trying to escape, searching aberrance.
Her mind, like mine: capricious vanity… attention in sollitude; commitment removed for the ominous loneliness in feud… a deep ruckus with herself: I push books of love off the shelf… it falls to her voice… the movable ground shakes the pages surrendered to romance:
Nothing matters in her presence… the heart acquiescent; it aches to be relieved by a distance pulling farther…
I must let her be; that is love’s decree…

The question of Islam as the religion of peace or violence: The inate racism and cognitive dissonance.

“We are so good and Islam is actually peaceful. So stop being racist people. We are so nice.” This liberal twist is more racist, as it places blame on a particular, imagined social group of Muslims: Is the question really about Islam being peaceful or not ? Is it not the conditions that cause people to engage in terrorism ? “Proving” Islam is a religion of peace or is a peaceful religion, is nothing above cognitive dissonance against engaging in critique with the crimes of their own: Imperialism, war crimes, support for armed extremists, arming extremists and oppression at home.

“Islam is a religion of peace, just few baddies make it look bad”. Nah. It is not that simple. Check yourself before you dissonance your cognition (sigh).
Islam could be the most violent discipline (it is not) and would not change the reality of things, the objective process that going into the inter-subjective reality, the constitutent elements that cause the form: A terrorist.

Extremists, people who the West funded, supported, eradicated their enemies, will use instances of violence in Islam to boil up justified dis-content, anger into an un-justified set of actions. This is what prolonged violence, oppression and humiliation leads to: violence, wether secular or religious. The un-heard voices of despair become objects of terror, the perpetrators of violence.In the context of the world we live in, the elements and particulars of this particular realm of conflicts, Islam and the west (which is a pathetic and ridiculous attempt at dichotomy and formation of mainstream conflict discourse), “Islam” is not even a footnote subject.

If Islam is a religion of peace, which, in my opinion, is neither a religion of peace or violence, what does this change ? Conversely, how would a violent religion of the oppressed have to do with the violence that caused it to become prominent in the collective or individual reaction to this violence ?Ask yourself: Even if it is a violent religion, what caused it to justify the enemy and the imagined futility of the enemies’ life ?

A lion can be incredibly violent: But do you need to get close to him with a camera during one of your safari trips and piss him off, make him feel a sense of danger against him or his family ? You know, like how we reacted to the Blitzkrieg !


The PLO’s auxiliary group (many deny the groups were inter-linked) was responsible for the Munich terrorist attack: 17 people were killed after Black September members took Israeli Olympic team hostage, demanding the release of political prisoners held by Israel. The group christened the operation after two Palestinian   Christian   villages that were forced-out by the IDF in 1948: Igrit and Biram.

The PLO, Fatah and Black September predominately revolve around its muslim members, though secular. Palestine is a pre-dominantly Muslim geography. Considering that Palestine is considered party to ‘Islamic extremist terrorism’, Hamas, what is the secular, plural Black September party to and which book forced them, as if spontaneously, to commit acts of aggression ? The oppression and violence against Palestinians has not been eradicated; therefore, reaction, justified or un-justified, has not changed, whether through Islamic or secular Arab identities.

How ridiculous is it to ask this question by the considering the element of Palestine in the “terrorism” discourse ? Hammas probably has not committed a quarter of the acts of violence of other, secular counter-parts. Yet, Palestine, in-relation to Hamas, is part of, in our discourse, this Islamic terrorist unity, which Muslims are forced to constantly voice their condemnation of – and has become a play-thing of liberals who play the spectrum tightening part of our discourses. Perhaps this inclusion of Palestine explains why Israel supported Hamas during its early years… but that is a separate question.

The Nazi-esq enemy: ISIS. The reprehensible, violent, in-humane acts of ISIS are easy to condemn by both Liberals (“they do not represent Islam”) and Muslims (they do not represent us)- and others; though is Islam really the significant factor to the causation of the rise of this brutal monastery of violence in motion  ?

Former lieutenant Colonel of the Australian Army and “Chief Strategist in the Office of the Coordinator for Counterterrorism” during the Iraq war, David Kilcullen, pointed to the Iraq invasion as the main cause that gave rise to ISIS:“The environment that we find ourselves in now is almost undeniably worse than it was at the beginning of the war on terror in 2001…[…]…There undeniably would be no Isis if we had not invaded Iraq,” he told channel 4. (1) Thus, the pathetic interpretations of Islamic extracts is a mere catalyst to it, a burial of “clandestine” reality.

To go further: An associate press investigation showed that many ISIS recruits had very little knowledge about the religion (2). How can this incredibly weak discourse, easily demisable on grounds of ‘causation’ (object processes) and its subjective manifestation still permissible space in all mediums ? The cause of terrorism is not islam; its subject, the terrorist, has little knowledge of Islam.

The decent intentions of those who want to resist the racism of their own citizens in the West can be understood. But only candid explanations and arguments can eradicate both oppression and racism. Yes, the importance of portraying Muslims and Islam in honest and positive interpretations is significant: Though it does not demolish the “victim of” complex the citizens of imperialist nations posses, which seeded the birth of the question: Is Islam violent or is it just a few monsters that make it look bad ?! The notion that the discussion of Islam’s peacefulness and/or violence should remain our centre of discussion solves nothing, but allows the liberal to refrain from anti-lazy criticisms of their own, fades the distinction between discussing racism at home, and war, conflicts, injustice in its entirety. I will tell idiots how Muslims are like others and how “not all muslims are liked that”, right after I lecture them on the crimes of their own that caused the “baddies”. Liberal racist interest in defining a group according to their mis-calculated view on conflicts is of no interest to the responsible mind.

Rise of nationalism in Europe, the world too.

What are we without the inferiority of the other ? A man takes pride in ‘male’ accomplishments; the ideas (interests) ruling the earth’s spin around the sun: The big star represents our higher purpose. A woman is, therefore, inferior – nevertheless part of the ‘big ideals’, as she is not the maker of the world but important tool to the makers – the man: “ha, you throw like a girl, dude”.

The man drains his complexes in the ideas of ‘other men’, like draining pasta in a sieve. Though the man himself formed not one original idea of his own. But at least he is no woman… (Simone De Beauvoir, the second sex)

The working-class, everyday, European citizen walks the earth with less worth than a pair of snake skin shoes. He/she is nothing in itself; decent ideas of self-improvement only encourage the thunderstorm: The capitalist doctrine. They find refuge in ‘individual’, finance projects – buying a home, becoming rich, making ‘something’ out of their lives. So how does a specie so ready to commit suicide than build patience while figuring out the complexities of the world, which it has so prolonged to begin, fill his time while stalling future conquest of itself, predominately petty anxieties ? They, indeed, aim to financially ‘make something of themselves’. Not one conscience mind can find redemption, accept-ion or mere existence in self economics; indeed, the ‘anquish’ remains with the propagandised mind that yearns for the belief in riches equalling a ‘better self’. But there is more to it, for their identity rests on the other.

Racism is never natural. The US policy included ‘making concessions for poor whites’ – freedom to bare arms, vote, own some petty land and have enough to ‘get by’ and pretend a future is possible. The distinction degraded the white person, who previously ran away with slaves to escape their shared ‘fate’ and design a more humane destiny, to a reflexive racist. They placed new value on their existence. They believed they shared the same destiny as their masters by being white, revolving around the same ‘sun’, in “fraternity under command” – (Howard Zinn, people’s history of the United States). “we are part of the ‘American idea, the city on a hill, the perfect union”. The blacks, following the so called ‘abolishment of slavery’, find their existence behind bars as new age of ‘slaves’; but, now, solidarity has declined and the space for ‘revolt’ is hindered by prison.

Seldom any ideas of their own blessed through their existence; whites devolve into pride in ‘us’ – the European, white race being ‘superior’; of course, this is believed despite the horrible ‘Western-imperialist’ evils never observed by other clans, ethnic groups or religions. But they are above the rest, for the “indigenous and blacks were given civilisation by the white man,” a group they are now part of, for they have the concessions.

“The good black man” faces the racist, condesending end of fingers. He is not like ‘other’ blacks; a love for America possess his thoughts and he follows the rules, accepting his inferiority, just a ‘good-woman’ is one that is persuaded to continue her honourable work as a house wife. A small protest triggers the awaited response: “Woman, I pay the bills here, I break, age my body for you and the children and you, my wife”. This ‘honourable housewife position’ proves inferior, dis-honurable in the face of male superiority; for the man asserts his economic superiority and superiority of the male, as soon a gesture of protest takes physical form, just like a black protest.

“He [Brandon Marshall] makes his money from America, but disrespects our flag,” they say. A short moment in solidarity with his oppressed sharers of identity, lights the fuse of a possessed racist. Morgan Freeman says, “[we should] stop talking about racism,” and he is the “good black-man”, no protest in his tongue. White racism is now re-asserted; the deathening silence, a swim in apathy bio-degrades into the world of ‘us’, the sun, that we all are ‘one’ with ‘american’ ideas (Freedom and guns; freedom only means guns and beer, because ‘all lives matter’, but somehow, ‘blue lives’ seem to matter on its own, in itself to the same double-thinking, racist impulse…)

The liberal vacuums votes by pointing his dirty nail at poor, “white racists”, people it has been neglecting in meetings with the ruling-class, ruling superamacy: White supermacist capitalism, imperialism included in its package. He, like his predecessors, prefers under-the-rug racism; they are in bed with the tyrants, and compulsively purchase parrots to apologise for them. These parrots, the liberal media, panic, becomes apapolectic when real change becomes possible. “We thought you would like situations that may demolish racism and in-equality,” we all think; the anti-Corbyn nonsense in the media is one example. But how are these cop-outs any different than their ancestrial dynasty… can one detect the difference between the two impulses, so wide apart in age ? A liberal was silent a good part of post-slavery slavery and racism. He prefered, just as he does now, to shiver off his sweaty guilt onto the dirty, smelly ground: The poor southern whites. He is now superior to them, less racist in his personal life, for he is intellectual and cool, as they have been telling us constantly. Now the southern, the racist, the mid-western is in-tune with an anti-intellectual belief. How is this human existence going to be expected to think intellectually, form ideas when the very process is represented by the “enemies” that are very much like themselves, but may have smoked weed, worn dreads or eat only vegan ? Process of inference and inductions, monopolised by the liberal, is now a un-patriotic instance in criticism of self and ideas.

The white poor believes that the ‘liberals’ are destroying ‘our country’ and ideals – the sun: Freedom, the constitution, scandly-clad women and Starbucks, over-priced coffee. He is superior to the liberal – and to the blacks, “the criminals (because the made-up statistics that prove that they are)”.

“Western values” says the embarrassed, ignorant white working-class European. “What are they,” you ask and a referral to the great ideas of men, in possession of notions the ignorant reject and deem as un-patriotic, emerges: “Freedom and equality”.

The European citizen asserts his/her own superiority through the ideas of others; Interests of the rulers are the ‘ideals’ of the poor. The man of self-interest, money, power, professes allegiance with the flow of Martin Luther king, for instance; but, we shall ask, doesn’t this man idolise the notions, ideas, views which MLK opposed, the people that opposed racial and economic equality ?

The money man, in times of trouble, brewing dis-content, latches to modes that assimilate the disease with the patient. Cancer is believed to be cured with more cancer — claiming we need to be me even more extreme in our views: The right-wing grasp the idolised past, romanticise ‘the never existed’ portrayals of certain ‘our values’, and co-opt the idea that the problems lay with the inferior: The out-of-hand woman; the war refugee from Syria; the liberal who claims the existence of over a million genders, immersed in the belief pronouns establish equality; the benefit scrounger. And, to pierce the last breath of reality, they claim an enemy unified with them all: the ‘liberal’, immigrant, benefit scrounger – a transexual, women’s abortion rights in Poland, for instance. Of course, the empty mind requires a feeling of being part of something expressed through the defined inferiority of others, defined by the oppressor, of course.

They become the makers of ‘the world’, claiming to represent the course of history, by attempting to go backwards, believing a new megabyte on a product proves their forward motion.

So, ‘we need to go back’. Any voice opposing this is the voice of the ‘guilty liberal’ and is therefore detrimental to ‘us’ and our superiority. But, of course, nobody should mention the interests of masters, and how the interests shape society, the existential reality of many minds un-hindered by matured thoughts.

“Don’t you see how they treat their women, forcing niqabs and Burkas?,” they ask, sincerely, as if their own are treated properly, as though ‘femininity’ is never scrutinised, as if a woman’s sexualised body does not sell the useless product. Like the asserted usefulness of the product through the woman’s body, their own individual usefulness is, once again, asserted; for they are advanced enough to ‘treat their women as naked objects of sex’. Whereas, the otherside, the right-wing muslim, or another group, treats the woman as a sex object by covering: Both products, like buying packaged or open display tomatos.

One should not assume the other-side is better: The conservative Muslim finds refuge, ‘usefulness’ and a sense of belonging: superiority to the decadent, ‘open’ West; porno and sex freaks. As if belly dancing is a produce that Muslims empires did not display in their cultural repository; as if the French romantics opened the first Harems in the Ottoman empire and forced sultans to drink an abundance of wine; as if homosexuality and sexual eroticism was not even more open in the Muslims during the days of the ‘dark and backward Christian world’, as it was so referred to in the Muslim world.

It is their masters who propose this other, the master who builds Hilton hotels that a rich man can access in the hopes to look down on the kabbah, the Islamic holy sight, from above, almost like god himself; it is, of course, what the prophet, the man among the poor, the man who fiercely even opposed the notion of financial ‘savings’, had in mind: A so called religious man in a gold plated Mercedes, in Hilton Hotel conference rooms, telling others of the decadence of the ‘western person’. And, of course, Jesus, the American white man – sigh – favoured racism and richness over compassion and sharing.

All anxieties and existential worries are now set aside, thankfully for the rulers who’s system caused most of it. Hail the ‘good-leaders’ and ‘their people’.

Now, out all racism, bigotry, which are systematic, not individual, can be referred to one cardinal sin: The oppression of women, displayed so obviously, expressed in reference to decadence and freedom by two supposedly opposing sides. The oppression of the black person ‘happened’: slavery, Jim-Crow, racist Britain, the ghettos of Paris, continuing today; the working-class person’s oppression is part of the historical process; A woman’s oppression is neither: She  always has, from the ancients till now, with exception, been the inferior ‘other’. It did not happen; it always was.

The mothers that we love more than anything become the people we hate when they bypass all societal mythologies and become a woman. A man, born of a woman, can easily despise femininity: “Girly, weak, emotional, i-rational”.

We can only be existentially free when we cut out the inferiority of the other, mostly bestowed on us by the wrong-doings of those we believe we share a destiny with, but only feed off scraps, while blinded by the sun and barring all the pain from all its consequences. This ‘cut-off’ must begin with the assertion of femininity as equal, not as an idolised, nevertheless inferior other; neither is the romanticised ‘other’ a notion that rids us of hierachy, patriachy. The one deemed ‘inferior’ is, like the one deeming himself/herself superior, capable of wrong-doings, stupidity and holds the capacity to reflect the pyshopathy of their oppressors: Thus, our cardinal sin, the romanticised oppression of women, is our cut off point; the representation of our impulse to form the other to form our own identity. The oppression of women, is our original problem and it is where we must start. Or, in this unruly world, all oppression will remain, anxieties will persist and grow, and only the egotistical, invisible, calm mind can choose the path to free themselves and assert their existence, free of societal views, all in the midst of chaos. In this world, this invisible person will choose anarchy over chaos, justified notions over false beliefs of idolised representations of ‘our sun’ and can only achieve this with in-difference to all suffering, creating themselves through themselves and not from asserting an inferiority that justifies, in a narrow mind, the superiority of themselves. Such a world is only destined for its own self-destruction. One cannot sweep evil under the unknown other forever.