Jul 2016
you never want the people, poetry never wants the people, the effective performance of democracy before Pilate left the Jews scarred entering unconquered territories of the former Roman Empire, where the phonetic encoding was far more precious than that ****** Christianity of enabling the circumcision without the 613 minor commandments missing... too fickle too whatever it was... people bring with them the bubonic plague, Protestantism, all the recent crazes in gaming... they never bring in the Rōnin Aishas - they always bring the riffraff of hopes and dreams readied for the few worth the ambition - they bring in all the bones except the spine - they're not here for a poem, they're here for a coliseum - the furore! - you know what i hate about seeing ballet or the opera? the ******* clapping... too much of it... i might live in a village, but going to an opera house feels worse than walking the countryside... the clapping is not even an ******, it hurts the ears, esp. culminating with encore! and bravo! who let these peasants out on the town?! who?! compare that to a Slipknot mosh-pit and you get the picture: with the former you get an exactness on what limbs were used... with the latter you're a pit of dismembered pieces akin to heston blumenthal cooking up whale *****.*
****... italics and the airs of how to pretend
the earth is jumping skip-rope
rather than in smooth ovals circulating the canary globe -
i forgot what i was supposed to say...
... ... ... ... ah! in the 20th century you wrote books
and earned and gambled the earnings...
in the 21st century you write and you gamble...
a lot of people are trapped in the 21st century,
writers don't have the leisure time -
if you write you write out of a love for the actual
act of writing, none of us will have a chance
to write and gamble on the horses,
the two fused - we write and gamble -
there's no chance to earn anything more it -
the harsh reality being - you have to chose
a certain type of poverty to accomplish a continuity
with writing - by writing you are providing the
inaccessible answers to escaping capitalism -
you have no answers, you have proofs without
question - i can't write and party like 20th
century's elites could - i don't care how far criticism of
my writing goes - the public looked far too long
at the wrong crowd - we're the new Antoinette Marionettes -
the moral brigade is out and about -
Bohemia even in ideal will soon become the sudden
implosion of Yugoslavia;
but what of the great injustice they did unto Franz Kafka?
he said: better print my works in LARGE PRINT
or burn them... they didn't burn them, and published
his works in the tinniest of possible claustrophobic cares -
they did more justice to Bukowski - printing him
with print so large it could almost be considered a form
of Braille. i guess that's the best imagery that can be
acquired when describing humanity's moral compass -
a Bermuda triangle whack-job magnetism worth of a tornado.
****... italics and the airs of how to pretend
the earth is jumping skip-rope
rather than in smooth ovals circulating the canary globe -
i forgot what i was supposed to say...
... ... ... ... ah! in the 20th century you wrote books
and earned and gambled the earnings...
in the 21st century you write and you gamble...
a lot of people are trapped in the 21st century,
writers don't have the leisure time -
if you write you write out of a love for the actual
act of writing, none of us will have a chance
to write and gamble on the horses,
the two fused - we write and gamble -
there's no chance to earn anything more it -
the harsh reality being - you have to chose
a certain type of poverty to accomplish a continuity
with writing - by writing you are providing the
inaccessible answers to escaping capitalism -
you have no answers, you have proofs without
question - i can't write and party like 20th
century's elites could - i don't care how far criticism of
my writing goes - the public looked far too long
at the wrong crowd - we're the new Antoinette Marionettes -
the moral brigade is out and about -
Bohemia even in ideal will soon become the sudden
implosion of Yugoslavia;
but what of the great injustice they did unto Franz Kafka?
he said: better print my works in LARGE PRINT
or burn them... they didn't burn them, and published
his works in the tinniest of possible claustrophobic cares -
they did more justice to Bukowski - printing him
with print so large it could almost be considered a form
of Braille. i guess that's the best imagery that can be
acquired when describing humanity's moral compass -
a Bermuda triangle whack-job magnetism worth of a tornado.
