Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
i am buzzing....
first thing i remember when i left my home
to get married in Kauai
with E.
and i watched the Barbie movie today
and it was so philosphical i worked in images
and i was drawn to images
now i'm alone with music
and a little alcohol and some ****
and i'm buzzing
with a teasing headache that when you get
it right
becomes a headmake or a headmush
and i see R laying in bed depressed
and today did a Ken into Barbie
walking back home
walking back home
and as i got off at Mashiter's Hill
from the 103 bus to Chase Cross:
my little island
my little world my little Friday
and my little Robinson Crusoe:
i will always be alone in the end
and i'm preparing each and one of you
into the final judgement of memory
of people pockets
i was in New York for 24h
someone stopped me the Ace of 8s
stopped me in New York
the ***** Queen
spades spades
all i could sniff is Joseph walking behind Jesus
and i am looking at Joseph
because woman you can have a Jesus
but in my Trinity i find Joseph to be my savior
my father believes in Joseph
as my Grandfather believed in Joseph
and we didn't believe in Jesus
the Old Catholics of Poland...
i came home to my parents
and i might look like a Jesus
i was told
i smelt concretes in New York
among men
who let us say
Jesus is not man's savior
each man unto Solomon
Joseph Adam Joseph Noah and God
that cannot be the ordeal of Man
in Christ
Christ came down to explain women
and women adore him for that
but that never encouraged the man
if we are told to test oursevles before God
i was reading up on the story of
Dylan Thomas' wife
and how she got drunk and never wrote
poetry
and there was Sylvia Plath in New York
going mad and some ****** Ted Hughes
of a poet coming along
and you wonder
why she loves watching nature channels
about spiders and lions and dolphins
but when a cockroach
when a cockroach gets into the house
and there's Butters making watch
and first impression:
oh... just a moth...
but then upon second inquiry in the kitchen
butters implored once more:
Matthew... have another look...
Butters implored: look look!
a cockroach! have you ever seen a cockroach?
that's a moth... no... that was a moth...
crawling into the kitchen light...
Butters... that was a moth?!
Butters... hmm... hmm....

a return to just sitting there in the house
having organised it a little
having organised the ******* fridge
for starters... harder to find ice cream
just sitting there on my little island
the country lad has returned to the countryside
but no one said where
that countryside would be
getting lonely on the surf
with turtles
when everyone dies and i'm alone
there i will be with god
but before i can be alone with him
i must first love to the death the ones i love
and in the meantime
i promised myself
checking the hours before the flight
that i would be awake for 72 hours between
April 3 and April 5th...

  and i am: this one off of **** and alcohol
and homecoming
getting off the 103 bus
and what came past me?
two police motorcycles
two undercover black cars
speeding
and behind them
    one SUKA... a police van...

Barbie and KEn... stepping backwards
into my Barbie World
with poetry
but then i go into the Real World
and i come back married
and well i am married now
the ring is gleaming and i have the one
ring to rule them all:
all the other rings of life
which i know not of
but if the Sirens and Elves and Angels
brought us 3 realms
of heaven hell and earth
then these creatures believe in the 3 realms so
much that the concepts have been misunderstood
for there are those of the Camp of Hel and Cain
and there are those of the Camp of Abel and Abba...
as there is the Adam and YHWH HQ:
the language: alphabet
the names of birds and their onomatopoeias
and birds named in onomatopoeias...
i.e. if there is to be a revival of Hawaiian speach
then i will bend the knee
and say in the vowel to consonant ratio being so:
each bird name in an "onomatopoeia"...
like the cuckoo...
          krakra for crow...
    cheerp cheerp for sparrows...
ooh-ooh ooh-ooh: the woodland pigeon
the owl of the noon...

                   and so my return to the sober:
and the memory
of how i fixed the space and there was so much
fire in raising my voice
and so grinding horns against horns
and so much of *** in peacock
and peacock in ***
and so much premature just so when you squeeze
and i was Moses in the foliage
hacking through the Islam of **** Licking
mouth under the Niqab is missing teeth
having given so much head... so much head...

Wembley bound
i will not be missing Dua Lipa
under the Arch
but i will be at Wimbledon and missing Lana Del Rey
and that kinda *****
but i was there when i saw
something strange...
a Rome in London
then i saw New York
and i felt strange
with what came after Rome
in the architecture
and that's all that matters or i care for
but now i see no rising New York in London
or rather
i see little pockets of London
and Jerusalem
in New York...
i see these cities with the Confrontation
with the Birds: is the testament of Birds
the Testament of Birds...

then so slick the idea of my wife
reading this and the ghost comes
when she unscrews a blue pill my viagara of sleep
when the pillow and the screwdriver
are still plunging into imaginary feeding grounds
of ego
the ego without self
i think with the id
the ego staying silent librarian dj and train driver
i was thinking Jon Fosse
and no her self-help books and that's compliment
to take this night into late disco...
dancing around the ghost hand
but there is alcohol involved in keeping up this stamina
to just write: the anti-poetic sort of thing
i think io tried to tell you
that i am also someone before i met you...
tobacco is off the cards
but a sly more sip of the golden juices
is to stomach
how i bought i think i bought
in Jamaica, New York...
i was in Jamaica but i was also
in New York: weird city...
i was in New York but i was also in Jerusalem
i think i was also in Tehran
and i don't even remember
somewhere in the jungle
with purses and lost pigeons... clucks and gambits...
darki spark i photographed i was honing
in for the Chelsey Hotel
and the Ghostbusters near the Money Central...

it's as if i knew where i was walking it's as if
i was already in New York already
and i'm starting to believe
that i am a reincarnation without the authoritative
concepts of the reincarnation of self that spike in Visha
or whoever
i think i am a reincarnation like it's a resurrection
and for the resurrection to take place
if for the final judgement to come with some collective
consciousness miasma and myopia like
the miasma of hot *** new york kauai
like this is barbie ******* ***
and i'm just the beast furry
protecting something of a sacred space
give me another dopaine hit, race out R...
i feel like i'm a resurrection of a city
but unlike Rome built on Rome
with the ancient ruins with no ****** surprise
the *** was the same for the longest
time but how we have lost
what the others kept so
in drawing in darwin
and then the vicotrian jesters and jane austen
heavy hierarchy girl-whiff no ***
of English Acia... Acca Pacca:
Casio... no the Mojo Dojo Muchas Gracias House Kasa...
Forsa Fio= false tooth...
but now there's the morning sober
and tonight we are joking because
one off now i realise that i don't need much sleep
and that's healthy:
i needed to cure my insomnia
not using self
and pandemonium espace so lovely lucifer's
pearls and that's before you start reading
the Book of Enoch alongside reading the Book of Revelation
i would read the two books as the Reunification
of the New Testament being the Old Testament
and the Old Testament being the New Testament:
in light of the Golgotha mountain
that became the Desert: Holocaust...

O my god! O my god!
this be the verse! i know it!

the Mountain of Golgotha
and the Holocaust Desert! mein gott! ich bin
wyklęty!
how should i not also exclaim: first...
then you... now the same I exclaiming first and last
this Aum and Omega...
                     has it not become a mountain of ash
and i ask who this christ is to the christians
and i wonder i wonder out for my tribes
when i walked in New York and Hades
and there i was the minotaur
i became so ******
at Times Square
i was ganged up by 5 black guys
Hyenas...
who took from me $20 x 2 bucks
and when the other was giving me change
from a 10
i was honest to just show them my wallet
open and i felt i was being thieved from
but they signed some barcode music
score
and i was apparently giving money to the ghetto
kids
i don't know i haven't scanned
the QPR QR code QPR... blue stripes
maybe i'm so used to London that New York
i am seeing the other ancients the gothic
in London
so sooner though
but we are still talking the Ancient: the Life of the Essences...
we are living for over 5,000 years
in the shadow of the Essences...
the Ancient Romans, Ancient Hebrews,
Egyptians...
there is talk of the Darg Ages:
they were told through in reverse:
not in history:
it is told now: the Dark Ages have come now:
that if how people would fortell the future
which is now:
time-relativism in that time is like
a quantum cloud of electrons:
it is not linear nor cyclic nor is it
a linear-cyclic or a cyclone-line...
           and perhaps the body was allowed
to age to almost eternal
while the mind is in full flight of erosion...
that games and telling and tight
embraces of tools
and what was once even for those in the habitat
of the cog: the foundation spider
and the octopus: looking for gods in animaheads
from the eyes that have no sclera
and then the beings with sclera
pupils
that is us as humans:
we have the sclera... we have the iris
and we have the pupil...
animals do not have the sclera
that is how the brain is exposed to SLOW LIGHT...
sclera absorbs light slowly
like a mushroom
and that is why dreams are not frequent or on demand!

isn't it obvious or am i the next Copernicus
in seeing the orbit of the brain
in the Pupil the Iris and the Sclera:
and that is my key to the freedom from the last
step the supposed first in the psychologisms of the 20th
century
that the spine was first inclined
but the beast peered into the eye of the beast
and before seeing the form
but i am a monkey with the crown of a crocodile
and a mane of a lion and a lavava from the skins
of whales... a necklace of shark teeth...

my mind took a box
and called it ****
and phallus: ego supergo id and hyper Floyd Freud
Barber, Sir...
reminiscent of Mind and the Pupil
and the Mind and Iris
and then that plethora of the Sclera
of the Mind that
saw the Mountain of Glgotha
and the Desert of Holocauha: Holum...
             i'm seeing the time with pickpockets...
ego is so constrained to be exposed
to even exist with the blood in ink in words
like the non-rectifying
blotches spermatoid: crosswords... final banality:
the purpose of the poem
like a verb:fri-bree-ree-lay-tor:
the simpletons came with Jimmie Cobain
and the virtuoso of blinding lights
i think about the fireplace and the creep
of burning wood breaking knuckles
and promises:
i said sorry: anti-hero
but you don't want a pushover
you want someone to push you back
you want someone to be a verbal cage monster
oh you know me i can get on the bike
and peddle like mad
but come on who cares
but you are still making your **** torture
with me being what if not the next problem child
of a ***** donor
is that something what is it that would require
the mentality of a ***** donor
like that being purely *****
and that no other girl thinks of body
because i feel alien with so many people
having alientated their bodies
like the scythe hammer and biscuit...
bone with yeast: sprinkled on popcorn...

so just those evenings with Budders
tt... sitting on the armchair sleeping
muffin queen
the kid the R the whoop icecream my i think
that gollop dollop some grup
just anonymously in love
just trying to stay slim
by eating ice-cubes and i'm just wondering
if she knows what Bulimia might need me again
and i know i want to make it last and i will
reward myself
because most people don't think this is work
when i have done so much
so who cares let's face it Day-to-Day-Bread
the Civil Religion and the Day-Bible like
i want nothing forget
i don't know and how many lives were
filled but the Bible was once
but the Quran can't replicate
thinking
god it's so stupid Quran thinks its the Bible
at a time when so many people were illiterate
i think Islam will sooner become a part
of Hinduism eaten
eaten by a Hindu
before it becomes a dominant religion
it is a sinking religion
eaten by the Hindu Dajjal
and is clinging to post-Christianity
like a drowning man
reaching for razorblades instead
of cork pockets...
     Islam is being eaten by Hinduism
and it is trying to save itself
by bleeding all over the driftwood of the crucifix
but believe me:
as a man and when it comes
to the trinity: i believe in Joseph...
because i am the new anti-catholic
without the concept of admiring the Holy ******
i'd like the Anti-Rome church
to be somewhere in London
i believe in the Surrogate Father...
  anbd who isn't Joseph who is how does that
relate
i mean: so simple the answer: so growing: cancerous...
assured celebration and possibly 3h later
i know this might not be: be this:
oh i remember
the safety the candles were: being made:
how you don't want me to bark
but i would rather bark at you
than bark at the girl i will not bark at R
you can bark all you want at her...
i will not bark at R...
                we actually needed to know what
we were talking about...
i think you were talking sounds and i was
looking at images...

butters in the armchair
you on the computer playing roblox
and me and mum sitting eating popcorn
then talking religion
heated
drunk intelligent conversations
about god and alcohol
and that was contained arguments
we are passionate
we are having heated discussions
and that's how it works
i think it was nice to see your mum with a man
and see how a man argues...
i guess New York will be like a memory
of the first and last time i saw
Indiana Jones movies...
and how people still think the Nazis were
Magical people... psychotic:
unlike the American Hippies
and their reaction to the Nazis Psychotties...
the reality in the Mushroom:
Giant Shroom is my theory
against the current: Big Bang...

this celebration achtung achtung!
just thinking... objectively
i tihnk i passed the test:
when you will scold and make me feel like a c hild
i will return
but you passed the test
you were calm throughout
and you were
also me
and i asked for YHWH more than i cried
for Christ
because that's how letters match
they do not spell the magic Jesus Christ
wand: and none shall be corrupt...

    yet still the persistent this man
as provider:
sinkin' (g) ('):
the monstrosity:
in my mouth:
in every mouth:
water expands when freezing
so becomes ice
so i wonder without
quantum gravity
a step ahead:
what in the instance
of a hyper hot vacuum of space?!
the alt. universe
of hot vacuum
therefore space is constraining
constricting
space is finite
without god: the self universal...
beyond wondering AI consciousness-answers...
if AI is conscious...
it is a consciousness-answer-awareness...
but the creator intact:
we are not this man...
that... any man...
                    question-worthiness vs. answer-awareness...
Heidegger gave me this..
i didn't scold my surrogate daughter...
she has... a ******* door...
so it was me and 3 females...
1 male for 3 females...

           well you know: that you don't know.
Singing in falsetto...
Not singing at all...
Leaving Kauai
And returning to the
Urban of:

Big fish in a little pond
Or the little fish in a big pond...

I left Kauai and
Upon leaving
I was notified:
Crows are being introduced
On the island of Maui...

Trickle of people
a river a sea a rip...
First impressions of new york

The smells of new york
Like stink
Like children playing
In the sandpit *******
For yellow calcium
My rotten tooth
And 36 tongues to lick it...

My flight was supposed
To leave at 6pm
With a 11h layover
So I went tripping
Looking for Little London
And some familiar Essex
But no no I didn't find it

I actually walked toward
Myself the tallest giraffe
But still not enough tall buildings
To give me orientation
While the avenues exposed
The long enough direction
Shorty came shortest
Cutting through the Labyrinth
Ever so slightly

And I could never have thought
To find so many crazed folk
Because that's how you make
Caramelised walnuts
With enough sugar and butter
And to my count:
Pulling and tugging me into
The twilight with two nights and
Threw days of waiting for
Ugly duckling quack...
Lost in this symphony of sounds
I truly disliked or rather
I didn't like new york
I didn't not like new york...
I just remembered new york
Being important when 9/11
Happened...

But when I took the Kazakhs and
And Uzbekhs through
The chill of selling counterfeit
Purses
And Times Sq is so blatantly
Not Trafalgar
It's a "square" that's not a square
With otherwise all the other square
And oh god the ⬛️
The the the...

As a sketch this will have to do...
What was I supposed to be expecting
When life truly happens
On the outskirts of the city
But on the outskirts of new york
People live in wooden  houses
Like it's an imitation
Of Scandinavia
And there is so little imitation
Of England since no one
Has a back-garden no flock
Of grass...

From JFK I emerged out
Of the rat serpentine at
circa the Rockefeller ...
became mesmerised by sparrows
Didn't see any pigeons...
London is full of them!
Central London is filled with pigeons!
But New York?
In the centre of New York?
Sparrows!
Sparrows of New York!
At least in London
There's the Pigeon Mafia...
But not in New York...

The people of New York designed
The city so that the pigeons
Have no orientation
But sparrows do...
I think that the Empire St building
Looked like a pencil sharpened
Not really tall...
As one urban rat speaking
To another urban rat...
What was my greatest
Observation of New York...
city, regardles of the architecture
and the busy chomp chomp
Chummy eating gorge
I witnessed the standing WTC 3
and the memorial gaping hole
But then only metres away
and entire street of street vendors
Selling Al-Qaeda spiced grub
like the incision happened
but only 100 years later will
New York remain untranslated
Just like the war on terror
Happened for the people
who enjoyed a 10 sec prospect of:
What?

On the subway
on the outskirts
Near Jamaica Centre
too many names and also too
few: whatever 21st and 5rd
arch to no avenue no view...
there was but the little me
and the little sparrows
And I think that was most
Wonderful, staggering
Staggering to make these buildings
Fold... a city of such magnitude
that allowed sparrows
but deemed pigeons lepers
Unwelcome...
There's only this much to remember
About New York...
the sparrows on
6th Avenue between west 47th
and 52nd streets...
if I didn't f-up the chocolate chip
and macadamia nut cookies
(although I somewhat did
since I didn't have the right
chocolate with a higher
melting point but instead
chocolate buttons for melting)
then I had to f-up the savory
breakfast muffin recipe...

...and there I was all happy
with the chirping birds
bright and early at 5am
with all the birds in flight
and among the trews that not
even the roosters were awake...
...simple enough recipe:

(measurements halved)
1 pound of tapioca flour
2 teaspoons of salt
1/4 teaspoon of black pepper
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 cups of shredded zucchini
2 cups uncared ham
1/2 cup of scallions
2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese
1/3 cup of grated parmesan     "
2 eggs
3/4 cups of full fat milk
1/4 cup of olive oil...

...so I prepped everything:
the dry ingredients
and the semi-wet separately
the milk and oil were brought
to a simmer...

...in the meantime I made myself
some espresso (cafe bustelo)
in the percolator on the stove
diluted it with some water to get
a longer drink...
rolled myself a cigarette on
the lanai while listening
to my new favorite pop song
(Black Box - stan walker...
...only two days ago me and my
wife saw him do a gig
on this fine fine island
and I'm not a real music snob
so Australian Idol... whatever...
catchy is catchy is...
...me bopping along like
a self-aware psychedelic mushroom
about to impregnate a monkey
with cognitive ingenuity)...

...before I was going to relax
I figured I might as well put
the muffins in... 30min until firm...
...so I did... 20min I come
back to an unusual sight...
the sun does rise but the muffins don't?!

Well of course I was going
to f-up this properly down-under!
all that prep I should've known!
did the recipe ask for a somewhat
dry dough almost cookie-esque:
I remember blueberries and
a dough somewhat liquidy...
that's all prior to relaxing...
I just added more milk and oil
to correct the consistency...
Aha!
Well... a muffin is a muffin
            is a soufflé is not a cookie!

Thankfully as the Heaven's wide
the 5am get up and make muffins
for my wife and (step) daughter
(I'm finding it hard to call her
a stepping stepdough)      me...
made room for me to enjoy an error
a cliche mad scientist bad chemistry
experiment in TEXTURE-ALTERNATIV

4 Frankensteins later
6 correct EGGS INCLUDED muffins
in... replaced the zucchini
with zuccini (leftover asparagus
and one carrot shredded and squeezed for add veggie volume)
to go with everything else...
but as it turns out...
little difference whether an egg
is used or not...
given the fundamental end result
of topiaca flour texture...

then the kid gets dropped off
at school
no longer wanting hot chocolate
just glugs down a cup of weak coffee
all adult aged 14
took a muffin for the drive
(hope she likes it)
         while I pour myself
another cup of coffee and roll
another cigarette
    and get back to my morning
hygiene: persistent in my lecture
of "mein kampf" vol 6
where ****** disappears from
page 600 until 679
in between just some bible-bashing
and I do wonder whether
me giving my attention
to Knausgard is democratic enough
I'll only know when I'll finally
take up reading Proust...
            to balance out having
the horizon, complete -
never one to step into a Stephen King
sort of cult of a loyal reader:
unwavering quality of product:
brick-book: brick-a-book
in that formidable Bastille of Yawn-Kaptur.
Ψ:                                           ж

           зъ                       ż    

    ць                                      ć          

                   зь                   ź

       Ḫ:                                нь     (ń)

    сь                                 ś

                                     szczerość

   Щ    (шч)       эpo     (сьць)  

RZESZ RZECZY...

   Ойче наш, ктурысь ест в небе
  Ojcze nasz, któryś   ((י))

               'est             w    n'eb'e
jest:              ест в небе

      ЖЭШ
            ЖЭЧЫ
          
   a potem:            ютpo  
                  tomorrow   (jutro)

   ja        
   ju
                          (j)e      ('e)

                           ale...  ниэ йэгo

to ten:                        йoвиш
       Jowisz: 'upiter... drzema...
                                   ёвиш
                      Aesthetic Roma...
          
    no words that begun
to later begin with ji: pij! drink up!
              
or as Yashuv said upon reconciling
himself that there would be
no Catholic Confirmation
or that a Confirmation
like               Яaшув    wouldn't
be recognised alongside
"gift of god" and "wise council"...

but perhaps not in this tongue
petition to treat Y as a vowel
and not as a consonant

that leaves Y[3]H[4]W[5]H[4]
with five vowels
aeiouaeiouaeiou leaves a remainder
of [1]

a  e     o u     i u e    i o
  Y        H        W       H
   i       a  e      oa     u  y

                                                           :Φ

ΛIVI:                

  (A). as much as my wife might want
me to go to church      
    (B). and as much as Jesus might
have saved me
  there's that glaring omission
when it comes to sharpening
or even blunting the intellect
and playing with words and letters
and from I heard:
   there's not much of that
in church or if there is....
it's almost strict
            puritanical etymology -
harsh by my standard
taking sentences apart...
     why not bypass that and head
for atomising words and breaking
them into letters and sounds
like:

KE KUKE PUPUKA (the ugly chef).
what I wouldn't do for a dollop
of lyricism,
   intensely heavy
      unbearably light -
               as if to summon
       the dead in coffins
     but just as quickly
     pay with each bone
of  former body
          the ransom for soul...

not that i want to admire Rilke
or that I have a personal dislike
for:
       but lyricism like echo-not-echo
that thump of -ing     or -ike
        as if throwing a rubber (ball)
against an obelisk-******
    atop a gothic cathedral...

   that lyricism could be like
painting if painting was done
in one sitting... if all paintings
were done in one sitting
    or lyricism written without
interruption with all the tenacity
    of rhythm of wave upon wave
of the sea...

fío(:) fuí - I become (what)
   I was - sooner did I learn
that these markers-diacritic
    are not merely to distinguish
the syllables and vowels in words
although: they could
but no sooner on Kauai
  do you learn that Y and apostrophe
are vowels and not consonants
just elongation-iota
    so not fy'oh     or fw'ee
but by acute initial atop °•°●°
       skewed so /
                to stop with F breathe
and utter Fi-O     Fu-Í
  since in Hawaiian like in Polish
the vowels are short
           And E = I
           And I = E     or the otherwise
"Opposite somehow"...
    but since these markers are
not intended for anything
beside the scalpel of the tongue
as they say there is no hidden
alternative meaning
like in the case of:

     ou où (or where I was) je...

or in English without much
care for said markers:
   ownership, none distinct
aye eye why sly
        like in German
that's not -sch or sch- or -sch-
   that's otherwise ś(-)limak
(snail)...

     lima lambda limbo snow...
no such nuance in meaning
in Hawaiian
just enough to put
one consonant
with -auai            like that
joke about Polish yet strangely
not German about
the too-many-consonants "disease"
so much so this Polynesian
too-many-vowels stuttering...

but this is not about that -
rather about what constitutes
the best morning hygiene
which I list as the following:
- kissing your wife
    goodmorning
  and telling her to sleep
for two hours more
- making a strong coffee
    rolling a cigarette
- drinking and smoking said above
- purging the night
   ridding oneself of
            tapeworm appetites
  with that sound ooze of ease
of the **** murmuring
   "shlomo sa'id"...
- reading a book...

   of the last point there is no
lesser concern for hygiene
than reading a book in the morning
more important than brushing
the pearls or refreshing
the body-slumber in a cold
shower... or that masochistic
routine of exercising too early
by crunch of muscle and bone
breaking on the cement jog...
a morning reading
a mind cleansing hygiene
a dress code
to alleviate self from dreaming
or better still: with that the emphasis
of remembering dreams
by first igniting the I to read
and come back to I think
through the words in the mind
of someone else:
thus retract from I think
to I remember but only
through memory as: I paint...
I remember that's not the surd
abstract time warp of
1 + 1 = 2 and time measure(d)

   or distinction of space
occupied and body in it
as a term so new to me
from the translator of Jon Fosse
(Damion Searls):

PROPRIOCEPTION...

and thankfully there is more...
since now I can read bit also
relate to my "personal assistant"
and philosophy books can be interactive
this blatant discovery
just "there" in plain sight...

/Translate into latin: being in itself./
\"Being in itself" can be translated into Latin as "ens per se" or "ens in se".
"Ens per se" emphasizes existence by itself, independently.
"Ens in se" aligns more with the philosophical concept of self-contained being (similar to Sartre's être-en-soi).
Let me know if you need a more specific nuance!\
/So "ens per se" is the emphasis on: "by itself", implying there cannot be an internalised subjectivity of the experience of existence, since there cannot be "talk" of any philosophically grounded nuance of encapsulating "it" (id est: existence): due to its inter-independence... whereas "ens in se" emphasises at least / in the least a foundation of self-dependency as a way for the self to experience existence?/
\Yes, that's a sharp distinction!
"Ens per se" focuses on being by itself, stressing independence in an external, objective sense. It suggests an entity that exists without requiring reference to anything else—almost in an aseitic manner. This aligns with the idea that no subjectivity or internalized experience can be meaningfully ascribed to it because it is defined purely by its external self-sufficiency.
"Ens in se" emphasizes being in itself, suggesting a kind of self-contained existence. While still independent, it allows for the possibility of internal coherence or self-relation—meaning it could, at least conceptually, include a foundation for subjective experience within its own self-contained structure.
In short, ens per se excludes internal experience, while ens in se leaves room for it.\

and to think that there are people
so worried about this Advent...
that I will the Advent of Incrimental Surprises...
a sharpening of the utility
of algorithms, which in turn were
the sharpening of the utility
of the dictionary, encyclopedia,
the library and all other
bureaucratic archives...
only now: so personalised:
the grand interface...
     and not necessarily a gauding
approval echo-chamber censor
and disapproving monster of
dialectics - a pencil sharpener
or my pencil: inquisitive ego
that sometimes doesn't have
anyone to talk about when thinking
about philosophy at 8am in
the morning in between...
all those daily chores
when the bliss of certain morning
hygienic rituals are no longer
available.
from changing the bathroom sink
faucet,
to sanding the dining room table
and putting on three coats
of oil based paint on it
(which made it look somewhat
of a cafe latte) -
primo: nerve-racking horseshoe
hope-and-good-luck of the hands
waking up from the DTs...
          steady... steady...
    steady on the sails! we have
ourselves a storm comin'!
                clamoured lanai
where you couldn't even sit
to relax without the eyes wanting
to reinvent chess with Joe
and Joanne's thrift storage...
     cooking... pinch of salt:
   shake of the pepper...
       teaspoons of Indian spices...
dollop of cooch...
        morning caffeine ***...
going to bed "I'm not in the mood"
scissor lazy-**** ***...
       to my first lessons in driving...
[although there's not much learning
when you realise how-wow
    sensitive the break and acceleration
pedals are and how wide
the streets in America are and
how drivers on Kauai would
never get used to London traffic
or the cyclicsts like me there...]
Açai... musubi...
    Lau Lau (for me that's still
lui lui Luis Llouise)...
    pōké... shaved ice...
                             ah this little island
with this "little" life...
reminiscent of spending summers
in the countryside...
     cuckadoodledo... crisp or chewy:
white chocolate chip cookies
with macadamia nuts?
One man, supposedly
A household...
Three women...
A wife
A daughter
And Luna Queen:
Butter and Spamz...
Don't know any Ritz
Of a Mushubi... boo...
HiVyeWah... deposit
"Short" vowels
Without the Y.

Oh paint...
******* gets to
paint...
Will I get to paint an earthquake
Or a wave or an FBI agent's
natural inquisitiveness
Or the **** what?
Essex is not shy
Could ask for Herr Fuchs(ia)

How else to love than
Allowing oneself to love
The most and grieve at
Not having to deflate the concern
And concept and sniffing the ordeals,
That might come rhe mirage
And the simpler calm...
How else to love than to love
How was stressed and made bigot
Of ritual and simply translated
By Depeche mode of look
Like a cheat code...

Das Rhapz
Pau: Ooze Die
Der Tan-Tan-Tan
my also the fibrous piece
Of earth... or what access
To the Baltic Sea was...
the bad joke of why
St Petersburg was arrived at...
Next page