Nov 2015
with the birth of money the old, ethnically categorised
unity broke apart,
now the rats in banks, now the rats stocking
cheap metal jump the ship called humanity unanimously,
we no longer have tribes of apache, or maori,
we have ethnicity via professions - the ‘i scratch my back
you scratch mine’ lots drawn... the shortest match
gets to be in the philosophy gang of severe individuation:
it’s not that the english languages from philosophy orientated maxims,
the english language is quick on that, quick to spot that,
but in terms of a philosophical narrative like a complex prose book of fiction...
well... its legs are broken, its arms are broken, it’s simply languishing
behind all the truths proofs innuendos and falsities, like an eager puppy.
with the birth of money traditional tribalism died and became
a curiosity prior, the least amazing job in a society with the piston
named money expects us to gratify existential qualms like so:
least responsible most likely to profit... most responsible the type
to be political in salvaging the least responsible role of a postman
or a cashier with lies...
now you... waiting eager for the ear to hear sweater music,
fare well with the anti-communicative charon - ah death
has a boat and a gondolier’s oar, rather than hood wings and a scythe...
see past the pagan burial of putting two coins in the cauldron inferno of
******* stacked to send the signal of the departing soul: partly brain
partly heart... that inverted exoskeleton capacity to feed the idea of soul -
they make break my bones with sticks and stones...
on the outside bruised... but then the surrealism of the inside attracting
an unfamiliar species of thinking: either singing or harking.
with four beers in the churchyard i took the last remnant of my past
with me, a d.c. belt of my ex-girlfriend, and thought about black magic
and voodoo, hanging it on a branch... instead i wrapped it
around the tree and gave it a model’s size 0 circumference,
thus i ended the session thinking about buying new gloves for winter
feeling my hands turn into ivory at the touch of the cold beer can...
but prior i was well aware of the possibilities, when the theft / injury took
place in a frenzy of such jealousy as to acquire theological dimensions of proof:
at least i will leave the world satiated by convenience of the misguided act -
as to answer that famous question: leave numerology aside,
come with me from how you acquired your use of language, your vocabulary,
make me see you turn words to words... away from the jewish tradition
of numerology... let’s face it... would you answer the question:
what’s the meaning of life? with (23 + 8 + 1 + 20 + ~9 +19) etc.?
or would you care to peer in and say:
the question has no verb in it, i.e.: not activity, anyone can ask it
but still prevail in their vector coordination of plumbing or
spanking faraday equations with newton training the monkey to dance:
pronoun (what) 3rd person singular present indicative of be /
you might as well be saying 1st person plural non-present non-indicative of be /
schizophrenic / there’s meaning in the sewer blockage with eager hands to fix it /
the crooked tree with a straight shadow / the badger shrunk from a zebra and became
the petted dalmatian that became a cow (is, i.e. too much is happening) i’m looking at something with myopic directness of the far far blurry / a direct article (the) now open the dictionary and tell me how cave is a ditto of rock and mountain without antonym proximity (noun) prior to me there was ****** and mussolini, pre that while i mind the pro that’s me (of, preposition) the river sooner than soon pours into the ocean and becomes saltwater, it could be called the heraclitus estuary, but it’s the thames we’re talking about; many men became rivers but still the godly wound itched for more bloodshed, and all those that attracted sweet water fish ended up as salt water poisons known as oceans, known as humanity (life).
unity broke apart,
now the rats in banks, now the rats stocking
cheap metal jump the ship called humanity unanimously,
we no longer have tribes of apache, or maori,
we have ethnicity via professions - the ‘i scratch my back
you scratch mine’ lots drawn... the shortest match
gets to be in the philosophy gang of severe individuation:
it’s not that the english languages from philosophy orientated maxims,
the english language is quick on that, quick to spot that,
but in terms of a philosophical narrative like a complex prose book of fiction...
well... its legs are broken, its arms are broken, it’s simply languishing
behind all the truths proofs innuendos and falsities, like an eager puppy.
with the birth of money traditional tribalism died and became
a curiosity prior, the least amazing job in a society with the piston
named money expects us to gratify existential qualms like so:
least responsible most likely to profit... most responsible the type
to be political in salvaging the least responsible role of a postman
or a cashier with lies...
now you... waiting eager for the ear to hear sweater music,
fare well with the anti-communicative charon - ah death
has a boat and a gondolier’s oar, rather than hood wings and a scythe...
see past the pagan burial of putting two coins in the cauldron inferno of
******* stacked to send the signal of the departing soul: partly brain
partly heart... that inverted exoskeleton capacity to feed the idea of soul -
they make break my bones with sticks and stones...
on the outside bruised... but then the surrealism of the inside attracting
an unfamiliar species of thinking: either singing or harking.
with four beers in the churchyard i took the last remnant of my past
with me, a d.c. belt of my ex-girlfriend, and thought about black magic
and voodoo, hanging it on a branch... instead i wrapped it
around the tree and gave it a model’s size 0 circumference,
thus i ended the session thinking about buying new gloves for winter
feeling my hands turn into ivory at the touch of the cold beer can...
but prior i was well aware of the possibilities, when the theft / injury took
place in a frenzy of such jealousy as to acquire theological dimensions of proof:
at least i will leave the world satiated by convenience of the misguided act -
as to answer that famous question: leave numerology aside,
come with me from how you acquired your use of language, your vocabulary,
make me see you turn words to words... away from the jewish tradition
of numerology... let’s face it... would you answer the question:
what’s the meaning of life? with (23 + 8 + 1 + 20 + ~9 +19) etc.?
or would you care to peer in and say:
the question has no verb in it, i.e.: not activity, anyone can ask it
but still prevail in their vector coordination of plumbing or
spanking faraday equations with newton training the monkey to dance:
pronoun (what) 3rd person singular present indicative of be /
you might as well be saying 1st person plural non-present non-indicative of be /
schizophrenic / there’s meaning in the sewer blockage with eager hands to fix it /
the crooked tree with a straight shadow / the badger shrunk from a zebra and became
the petted dalmatian that became a cow (is, i.e. too much is happening) i’m looking at something with myopic directness of the far far blurry / a direct article (the) now open the dictionary and tell me how cave is a ditto of rock and mountain without antonym proximity (noun) prior to me there was ****** and mussolini, pre that while i mind the pro that’s me (of, preposition) the river sooner than soon pours into the ocean and becomes saltwater, it could be called the heraclitus estuary, but it’s the thames we’re talking about; many men became rivers but still the godly wound itched for more bloodshed, and all those that attracted sweet water fish ended up as salt water poisons known as oceans, known as humanity (life).
