Nov 2020
.well... it happened... no point feeling better... but tool's fear inoculum at £26 with a book... it could be worse... guess i'll have to buy aenemia - having scratched it too much...
here's to... celebrating the glorification
of: shooting yourself in the foot...
and then doing a tango
while hopping on what remains...
here's to...
suppose all russians are geniuses:
suppose all russians are
a tchaikovsky - a tolstoy -
a kasparov -
sorry: but that's truly
stretching it...
the russians were not also
black sheep and drunkards of
siberia...
no truly: i think i'm done...
loitering with expectations:
there was some standard of
hope long long, long ago...
tumbleweed and the smell of
burning rubber...
it's still burning in my mind:
3 months ago...
you seemed fine...
on thursday grandmother called
and said that you were
entertaining agonia -
i was getting readied to fly over and see
you...
by 8am the next morning
she called again saying you died...
you were apparently wasting
away for a month...
each time we called she would
say everything was o.k.,
talk about the already worst
nightmare: re-a-li-ty (forgive me but
i will not invoke the proper
phoneticism when the word
is dissected using compound
hyphenation)...
a month ago, she could have called...
but... it's not like your death
was "sudden"...
i have only one sense of orientation
now... to salvage
the unsalvageable...
that opening quote from
anna karenina:
all happy families are similar to each other,
each unhappy family is,
unhappy on its own terms...
hell... who needs to read the rest of
the book... replace the word
family with the individual (bore)...
spice it up with an -ism
and there you have
a workable categorical imperative...
it's not a happy truth to move forward
but it's the most reliable:
a thing of beauty - something probably
generic - easily replica riddled...
like how all babies are generic
in their physiognomy -
or old people...
unless of course...
it's a donald sutherland...
i knew my grandmother was: x, y and z...
the "conspiracy" she started to knit with
her son...in conversation through the past 3 months...
just tiresome personal affairs
of the family:
but you never expect it...
probably because you never want to imagine
how ****** things become
how you're stitched back together
using quasi anguish bordering on anger...
you want sorrow... you want closure...
but sure as **** you're at best
going to be tease with apathy...
as ever, mr. numb-******* comes along:
this was a sudden death:
perhaps i was lucky enough
for the death of my great-grandmother:
teasing 91... a truly sudden death...
well hell: that's closure...
but a death kept in secret...
and all the hot picks concerning money:
7 months worth of pension "savings":
hardly a ******* hoard from under
the belly of Smaug...
that he died "brainless"...
yes... that's how you do it...
you call a day prior to the death
and then on the day of the death...
because... there were no 3 months prior...
because: whatever needed to be taken
care of... would be...
oh! oh so overwhelming for agrandson!
that it would require "professionals"...
it's hardly possible that my grandmother
is a maniacal *****...
come to think of it...
she doesn't deserve a description of evil...
that could be ascribed to
a vampire... perhaps a zombie...
but not a cenobite / xenomorph...
a zombie as bland as: horror staged during
the day: never to explore the architecture
of a night...
- she had three months to call up and
give clues:
his death will not come suddenly...
but she didn't...
- obviously she wouldn't...
well i'm almost jealous of other people's
families...
a caring grandmother calls you
some time before dearest grandpa ***** off...
but no... she called a day before
he died: in hospice... where no one
is given entry...
a day later she calls up to inform
the dearly beloved: he's dead...
3 months prior:
there was a line of progressing
to the ultimate deterioration...
and death...
my uncle her son even came
a month prior: insinuated about
putting him up in a carehome...
such grand talk of "perspective"...
and while the coffin was laid to rest
she was chewing gum along
with her son...
that i was born from her daughter...
family... oh family....
yes... i have been robbed...
i have been cheated...
whatever strangers have up their
sleeves...
i never expected those
of the same flesh to have...
such! ingenious plans for numbing
the heart!
if i tended to his nose-bleed
i would have tended to his ****-soaked
adult pampers...
if only for a sample of his old self...
no... these words are no good...
it is what it is...
it can't be anything more...
it will never be anything more...
i just imagine that cows are
brought to a greater pace
of peace in the slaughterhouse -
here's me chewing metaphysical
meat: a memory or whatever it is
i was supposed to inherit for a while...
and when she dies... grandmother dear...
looks like... i will probably
mourn a fleeing shadow come
the night when i will walk into
the forest and howl and call the for the beasts...
i don't think my grandmother
deserves to be mourned...
no... clearly...
right now she's just a familiar
face...
an annoyingly familiar face...
not enough mascara of lipstick could
disguise it:
but enough sandpaper just might...
the same day he was placed into the earth
i sat by the grave and played
with a candle...
i probably played with silence...
no great ode: no do not go gently
into the good night...
i have no rage:
my heart has been thrown into
a mountain and: how unshakeable it stands...
how part of the whole...
i clench my teeth and pray for
tears:
apathy has suffocated
anger rage and grief...
until i face myself as the inquisitor for
the 3 months of silence...
and face her...
i'm sure she will disguise the answer...
how pitiable this old woman is...
how barren her schemes...
her last "victory" is...
a sentence i cherish more
than ever:
yeah, grandma, ******* soon,
the sooner you ******* the last reason
to visit Poland will have been
erased...
no... i will not visit that land
as a tourist... i'll wait for the tongue
to die in me...
with this enough of english...
yeah, grandma, ******* soon,
i don't feel like visiting Poland:
birth-land - any time soon.
here's to... celebrating the glorification
of: shooting yourself in the foot...
and then doing a tango
while hopping on what remains...
here's to...
suppose all russians are geniuses:
suppose all russians are
a tchaikovsky - a tolstoy -
a kasparov -
sorry: but that's truly
stretching it...
the russians were not also
black sheep and drunkards of
siberia...
no truly: i think i'm done...
loitering with expectations:
there was some standard of
hope long long, long ago...
tumbleweed and the smell of
burning rubber...
it's still burning in my mind:
3 months ago...
you seemed fine...
on thursday grandmother called
and said that you were
entertaining agonia -
i was getting readied to fly over and see
you...
by 8am the next morning
she called again saying you died...
you were apparently wasting
away for a month...
each time we called she would
say everything was o.k.,
talk about the already worst
nightmare: re-a-li-ty (forgive me but
i will not invoke the proper
phoneticism when the word
is dissected using compound
hyphenation)...
a month ago, she could have called...
but... it's not like your death
was "sudden"...
i have only one sense of orientation
now... to salvage
the unsalvageable...
that opening quote from
anna karenina:
all happy families are similar to each other,
each unhappy family is,
unhappy on its own terms...
hell... who needs to read the rest of
the book... replace the word
family with the individual (bore)...
spice it up with an -ism
and there you have
a workable categorical imperative...
it's not a happy truth to move forward
but it's the most reliable:
a thing of beauty - something probably
generic - easily replica riddled...
like how all babies are generic
in their physiognomy -
or old people...
unless of course...
it's a donald sutherland...
i knew my grandmother was: x, y and z...
the "conspiracy" she started to knit with
her son...in conversation through the past 3 months...
just tiresome personal affairs
of the family:
but you never expect it...
probably because you never want to imagine
how ****** things become
how you're stitched back together
using quasi anguish bordering on anger...
you want sorrow... you want closure...
but sure as **** you're at best
going to be tease with apathy...
as ever, mr. numb-******* comes along:
this was a sudden death:
perhaps i was lucky enough
for the death of my great-grandmother:
teasing 91... a truly sudden death...
well hell: that's closure...
but a death kept in secret...
and all the hot picks concerning money:
7 months worth of pension "savings":
hardly a ******* hoard from under
the belly of Smaug...
that he died "brainless"...
yes... that's how you do it...
you call a day prior to the death
and then on the day of the death...
because... there were no 3 months prior...
because: whatever needed to be taken
care of... would be...
oh! oh so overwhelming for agrandson!
that it would require "professionals"...
it's hardly possible that my grandmother
is a maniacal *****...
come to think of it...
she doesn't deserve a description of evil...
that could be ascribed to
a vampire... perhaps a zombie...
but not a cenobite / xenomorph...
a zombie as bland as: horror staged during
the day: never to explore the architecture
of a night...
- she had three months to call up and
give clues:
his death will not come suddenly...
but she didn't...
- obviously she wouldn't...
well i'm almost jealous of other people's
families...
a caring grandmother calls you
some time before dearest grandpa ***** off...
but no... she called a day before
he died: in hospice... where no one
is given entry...
a day later she calls up to inform
the dearly beloved: he's dead...
3 months prior:
there was a line of progressing
to the ultimate deterioration...
and death...
my uncle her son even came
a month prior: insinuated about
putting him up in a carehome...
such grand talk of "perspective"...
and while the coffin was laid to rest
she was chewing gum along
with her son...
that i was born from her daughter...
family... oh family....
yes... i have been robbed...
i have been cheated...
whatever strangers have up their
sleeves...
i never expected those
of the same flesh to have...
such! ingenious plans for numbing
the heart!
if i tended to his nose-bleed
i would have tended to his ****-soaked
adult pampers...
if only for a sample of his old self...
no... these words are no good...
it is what it is...
it can't be anything more...
it will never be anything more...
i just imagine that cows are
brought to a greater pace
of peace in the slaughterhouse -
here's me chewing metaphysical
meat: a memory or whatever it is
i was supposed to inherit for a while...
and when she dies... grandmother dear...
looks like... i will probably
mourn a fleeing shadow come
the night when i will walk into
the forest and howl and call the for the beasts...
i don't think my grandmother
deserves to be mourned...
no... clearly...
right now she's just a familiar
face...
an annoyingly familiar face...
not enough mascara of lipstick could
disguise it:
but enough sandpaper just might...
the same day he was placed into the earth
i sat by the grave and played
with a candle...
i probably played with silence...
no great ode: no do not go gently
into the good night...
i have no rage:
my heart has been thrown into
a mountain and: how unshakeable it stands...
how part of the whole...
i clench my teeth and pray for
tears:
apathy has suffocated
anger rage and grief...
until i face myself as the inquisitor for
the 3 months of silence...
and face her...
i'm sure she will disguise the answer...
how pitiable this old woman is...
how barren her schemes...
her last "victory" is...
a sentence i cherish more
than ever:
yeah, grandma, ******* soon,
the sooner you ******* the last reason
to visit Poland will have been
erased...
no... i will not visit that land
as a tourist... i'll wait for the tongue
to die in me...
with this enough of english...
yeah, grandma, ******* soon,
i don't feel like visiting Poland:
birth-land - any time soon.
