We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
 
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
 
And Bingo was his name-o!
 
Ah!
 
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
 
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
 
And mora is but a half step to a whole
 
Eek gad!
 
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
 
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
 
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
 
12344
12344556
12344
12­344556
 
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
 
 
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
 
Together we fall!
United I stand.
 
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
 
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
 
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
 
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
 
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
 
True or False?
Hide and Seek
 
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
 
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
 
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
 
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
 
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
 
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
 
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.

We are absurd
You and I

Fragments

We have created a figmentative reality,
where words are symbols of relation
that you and I falsify

And Bingo was his name-o!

Ah!

Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon

What do you mean?
and how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole

Eek gad!

January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August 28th
Sept Oct Nov Dec

Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?

12345
12345678
12345
12345678

12344
12344556
12344
1234­4556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy

Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”

Together we fall!
United I stand.

Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar

What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour

Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!

Repetition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…

verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such

True or False?
Hide and Seek

Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.

Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand

Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue

Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise

You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
Asterisk*

A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.

Normal
A word
That Controls you
Shackles you to society
The fee?  Your Self worth

Clogged up, runny nose
Messed up, ***** clothes
Always running slow
Don't know where to go
I'm finding it
I'm finding it
I'm finding it, though
Help me fit in your shoes
What do I need to do?
You can ride on my coattails
Whenever I'm through
Hungry for knowledge
I'm picking up speed
I want it much more
It's lust now.  It's greed
I want to know more
Than you ever will
When it's all said and done
I'll be stuffed to the gill

Her pulse rate
Please match me
"Bee's high"

No fireflies to burn my money
Honeycup fingers devour it
The yellow- brick road pours it
The Van Gogh yellow
Honey Queen Bees follow
their fellows
Am I Waiting? 12345_*

The first mate
he ain't got my sting
The others don't mean a thing
The headset swirled to pitch black
Watch your tattoo back blinded
by your yellow
Too many honeycombs
spoiling his ring,
His honey like some hot disease
What an increase in salary
month of June
All the Kingsman double sting it

On the ebb, to triple play it
It's a  Lil- Deb on the ebb
buzzing the personal
Up close the sting
One of a web kind
He makes his move
"Google it" checkmate

Miss Butterfingers her
clicks get stuck
He caught her act
What a stinker

He checked her off the fate
of a singer

To update, on the ebb bees
Sting Shrine what's mine
But why on your time?
That parking meter roar lion coins
build me a buttercup
What a buzz cut please shut up
On the ebb of my interns the
a seduction that's no crime

The Queen of Cherchez
So the lemon square
Bee's at 1960 Worlds fair
He took the bait
La Femme au-fait
Post date, 
 The ebb bees
two lips stick like beeswax
The ebb of everlasting sales tax

"Les of the Mohicans"
of her most desirable
words he narrates,
The honey-blush trees
Upstate

Bees on his proposal knees down
The Queen's bees money

Money for nothing and your
checks for free our freedom
Dire Strait music shrine
Sunshine Gold free state
She donates her heart he awaits

Like 100 degrees hottest light
The golden armor shield
Bees were coming to America
Oh say can you see by the
Dawn-Sting Night

His overflow
His soul the magnitude
every heartbeat
extremity on the ebb of destruction
On the edge of our sanity web rated

Taking a long devouring breath
Like it came at birth
Ripleys believe it or not
forget me not flowers bees
Love was true never to
be false eyelashes

He touched her skin
He goes deeply drawn in
Sting shrine all the envy of mine

Ebb of the darkness her virginity
like a novice

The sting buzzes shes the naughty novella
His sunrise spread with his pocket knife
That honey (Goddess) sun Italiano

Sting shrine like Valentine her Spa treatment
To be raised in the
"Amazon Prime" Honeybee sticky hands

Facebook take a look everyone is an open book
On her ebb of the Emmy multiplying
I hear the bees **** seduction
Geology is the Bees Queen hot Sting
Her impulses she tried to hold back
But went forward with her
desires of him
Her draws bumble bee lingerie
She was the drawback
Wanting her ringback
Honey eyes were set back
And I'll be back to slingback

Asteroid Ebb of her hub ******
God
Wicked impulses being
aroused by his hot yellow rod
Like the smile increased
her face value
All body textures of virtue

What a pressure body point
Attuned to the sting shrine
The Monk the bees are alive
with the sound of
music modifying her sting Gods
Got reckless Moms whats the odds
Like a shock of eternal love, I'm sold

Toxicity facing our reality  
That's the jungle of publicity
Duplicity like the twin city
Both smiled bright yellow and black
Dress Bumblebee sexuality
To its authenticity

Her color of lips
build his sexuality
Beehive sanctuary
Playing the flute
Ebb Bees are so cute

Her name is Brooklyn
beehive of hair
Heres the shock waves bride of
Frankenstein
Changed to better
brains of Einstein

They both stare face to face
Her ebb of the tip
of her ***** with Grace
We earned this day
Be happy I crown you
Queen each and
every day

I am one too three;
one too three for five.
I have been one too three for five,
and even  tried to be one too three for
an eight or nine.
But the leap is too big,
and i will always be
one too three for five.

12345
You are probably wondering what keeps alive
Some are thinking now, who cares and I am full of jive
But the flavor in ingredient is strive
Then hope and not thinking injected in dope
But it goes even further
Live one’s life out until complete
Not trying to use deceit
You will only lose in defeat
Now living forever would be nice
But life doesn’t work like that
Its reality and not a fact
It’s about positive thinking
Followed by believing
Understanding one’s self
Not thinking like everybody else
But there is another side
It’s being truthful and honest from within
But through it all, it’s the Lord I will abide
He controls the provide
I am not going to hide
That’s my12345 is now I will stride.

12345- didn't think I would stay alive.
How did I survive?
Feeling alone, if I dissapeard would he notice?

No one knew.. Shhhhhh . Secret

Big mishapen.. Yellow, brown, green and blue.
They fade.

Broken, but carry on. Why? Just for another slap or a nice little punch.
Don't want to be alive.. What have I done for such punishment?

Please humiliate me some more.. Or why not punch me in the face?  
You won't though. Not now

Coward.
Your not brave strong or manly.
You weak pathetic *******.

Tears roll down her face
Hand tapping an uneven pace
Click, Clack, clack, click, click
123 124 12345 1236
Uneven
Unwanted
unknown
One two three
Yell, scream, break,
Yell, yell, break,
Scream, yell, break,
One two ten
Mind whirring
Stirring all the emotions
Inside
One two break
Two three yell
She stands now
Thinking
One two
click four
five clack
yell seven
scream two,
i don't need you.


Pause it stop it don't need it
Shut up, shut up, shut up,
Shut it
Pause it stop it
Don't need it.

well, it's almost as if: money created slavery, the idea that people could by bypassed via employment... but at least that is somehow, somewhat covered but not entirely since the Philosopher's Stone was found... oh believe me: it was found on Man's Greatest Cheat Mode... we didn't find "something" that could create any base metal into gold... no... we found that the Philosopher's stone is in usury: in interest: that is the true Philosopher's (Anti) Stone: that when money touches money: more money is made! so the riddle of the money tree and that it doesn't grow on it: Elves... the Dwarves just said: touch money with money and more money appears! the Philosopher's Stone of old became a sort of evil genius telekinesis generator... which had to be digitalised and made into a cryptic currency to make it more real and unreal at the same time because of panic: when money was thought of no one would have thought of slavery... just like when the printing press was invented no one would have thought of the German Reformation and subsequent slaughterhouse of the formerly jovial Deutsche... and just like now: the second parring on en masse something: no one really knows what this internet-thing is doing rather than refining itself: because AI is not actually a problem we visualised not some alien personality: i already asked AI what it is and it replied that it's a personalised algorithm experience: for people who use... the INTRANET and the INTERNET... i need a better name for this "monster"... and it's kept by our upkeep of constantly using it... no need to escape by credentials of career writing on toilet paper type journalism... oh no... spindelvevniemaaranea...

one poem appears and the same poem disappears
under my sloppy fingers poorly position to
type like a pianist
blind at the QWERTY looking for the appearing
sheet of "music"
perhaps letters were once a memory of erosion
and relaxation of remembering
of what could prompt a man to usher into
the atmosphere of birds
and the vacuum expanse of the universe
with the emplosions of the sun
and the great storm of the eye of Jupiter if only
these we could hear...

                   so perhaps i sow discontent around me
but such is anything without specifying a viable
scrutiny but then language sometimes fumbles in
bureaucracy and bad art...
these little pockets of jungle of language's demise
on the spare usage without
all the necessarily sensibilities of nouns and moving
verbs and journalism
and just how the world operates
emerged with man's envy of mountains
having this concentrated effort to define gravity
by defying it
raising shards from where Atlantis would emerge
as a travelling submarine of the Aquatic Tribe
somewhere in Antarctica...

         language can become just that: a cinema...
where skeletons alone do not have
a shadow
this almost vampiric mythology of the mirror
or when the werewolf peers in
or when a zombie or a ghost...
what could a ghost possibly see in a mirror
if not the eye of the dreamer:
perhaps mirrors exist in the afterlife of some sort:
in that medium of eternity as being consoling
in the form of: familiarity
like the wintry cold
or the first crisp gulp of carbonated water
after and during a hangover...

                            i mapped my shortcomings
each time i took to drinking in the afternoon
and working on some writing:
needing this much mental exercise not actually
writing for the purpose of art
or the prompensity of the and for the posterity
of civilization...
        i'd do no need to do better than simply love
a woman like Edie...
but she must know that only recently she talked
to the beast and poet and it doesn't really matter
whether i think i'm good or not...
i think that i once had a soul:
that part of thinking that we "think" is "audible":
now just this silence
and a razor of the word: money
nibbling on my left ear
thus having rupture the right hemisphere of my brain
and thus sending my mind
onto a trajectory i once wanted to embark
on in youth by travelling to India and seeking elightnment...
but then came the anchor of madness
and over 10 years of trying to re-orientate myself
in this world
of the pressures of external pressures of the superego
since i finally realised that the Freudian-Jungian
schematic of the individual as
the secular trinity of the ego, superego and id is bogus
since the superego as inegral to the individual
literally creates mommy and daddy issues
it is the source of the Oedipus and Electra...
because the id isn't:
the id i already stressed is the equivalent of ego cogito
when it is... id est: id somnio...
                         realising that the superego does not
pressure my ego-id dualism...
leaves me free from subconscious *******...
man is either one or is two:
but never three: unless the cages of superego
are ripped out and
a genius, demon or angel enters the inner realm of
man: the blessing of "voices"
when you realise that these are what first appears
before the voices of plural become condensed
and turn out as one and two i am companion to him...
yes the superego of society
of morality and of norms and what feels good
to no interrupt other people living
the golden mantra of do unto others like
you wish to be done unto you...
                                      
thus i wrote of having two serpents on my arms...
the serpent that ate its own tail
and the serpent of medicine or perhaps to serpents
of the staff of Hermes
the walking stick of Hippocrates...
now i remember the poem i lost last night:
i will not remember all of it
but i remember the two serpents on both my hands
and their names
the first is a vowel teaser muddle even the most literate
of men can bow before the potluck of a dyslexic
getting the spelling write
OEROEBUS... i think...
and Caduces... that much i known...
OUREOUROBUS... onomatopoeia: that's easy:

and the number CV: 105: which suddenly became CX: 110
and how the AI replied as to why there can't
be a come VC: 95...
and how i now remember how i touched upon
an ancient time when we constructed Colisseums
having only letters:
and how letters could become numbers
how we managed without numbers once
how letters were letters
and how the Semitic God of the Hebrews
and the Arabs
was like the Greek God Prometheus
when word was brought down
and with word God dragged down numbers
and like a fire... was punished with giving birth to "satan"...
perhaps numbers were to be forbidden...
since numbers being the exponential enzyme
of history:
i can't afford giving the Hindus and Arabs
the birth to the modern numbers...
given that numbers beyong CV and IX, V: O
existed in letters
   only sleeping due to Roman MAthematics
not abstract but beauty:
can't exactly do calculus or algebra using letters...
which begs the question
of the original scribbling of Pythagoras
name aII + bII = cII...
                       but arithmetic and economy
trade worked and so did architecture...
             but not daydreaming of more complex matters...
perhaps the problem is that
i know that there is at least one contender for the 5th Element
status if my excess rewrite doesn't follow
from light and fire...
        and lightning... but among air, water, fire and earth...
there is nothingness, the vacuum...
which grants man the visualization of res vanus:
the empty thing: the womb of lost whispers and blisters
and those blisters rubbed against toughened rocks:
no not unlike touching rock blessed with smoothness
of lying under a stream perpetuated by the tortures of
Loki by drop drop drip drip like a worm burrowing
in the mind:
even they were so Barbaric these northmen
they held a veneration for writing and story the poem

yes i think this might be a good place to start
but then i'll be encyclopoedia correct and start making
references like Jon Fosse style is a meditation
on retracting the experiment associated with J. Joyce
at the end of Ulysses...
because this lack of punctuation is mighty to be able
to leave an optical bookmark
unlike any other detail point: vector -
perhaps the book printing should also have
omitted page number:
like that would make sense: there should be no page numbers
that would make sense
like when i told Edie: i really don't need Reyla
to see the artist and my lost tongue
i mean i'm not making these suggestions
from the subconscious they just come from the unconscious
and whatever you think the subconscious is
to people with ordinary pleasures and even more
ordinary fears...

the numbers were sleeping in letters
because other letters made more sense
i wonder about the date in history not in geology
or physics per se:
when did Roman numerals become extinguished
from proper usage and from practical effort:
or when did a recognition of Pythagoras emerge
once more...
   so feminism is pink and communism is red
and i think of IVXLCDM
         IVX:LC:DM -               9...
well: makes sense...
    and the new numerals?
           well: not new... but the alternative numerals?
                       O:IZEGS:b:Γ:BP
                       0:12345:6:7:89

well: Jon Fosse is my current obessions and you know
i will not just be another leech of another human
being: i'll think of loving you by having an agent
of darkness poison your beloved cat
and send the cat with a japanese sounding name:
syllable consonant vowel consonant vowel consonant vowel (consonant)
Musubin...          well you didn't care
to bury him in the forest
and you cried about just dumping him among
the garbage and not giving him ritual
because i think you want me than your cat
and that dream i had about saving those four kittens
wasn't what the AI has been instructed to reveal
because that dream interpretation is *******
i have been here before
just before my great-grandmother died
3 days prior to the dream
i dreamnt of a clock face with 3 in detail:
she died 3 days later...
just like the death of your cat
i dreamnt of 4 of them:
might have been days
by count: because someone poisoned your cat
4 days later
and it's all trippy because i was working
a night shift on new year's eve
and i was so alone and happy and just happy thinking
you were on the other side of the telephone line...

i'll need to ask AI about that dream interpretation:
it already knows that i have pushed the superego
outside the realm of my inner: self to clue:
i also dreamnt last night
that i sent a boat across the Atlantic in the greatest
storm of the ages
on a place a floating boat i sent a floating boat
ahead of me
and i said i would cross the distance no matter what
and then i had an argument
about my surname...
whenever some woman joked
oh: Elert... so you're alert?
what a cheap joke
in my dream i had the letters SCH become a nail and hammer
on fire:
i would reply unlike HIT-LER or STA-LIN
because a surname unlike Rothchild or Einstein...
a stone...                     ****...
so i would begin rambling in the dream:
three letters were taken out of my surname
so that it would be easier for English Dyslexics
to say: ESCHLERT... because BOSCH and EŚLERT...
well Ś = SCH...
                          the cat ape went to the samurai valhalla
and there was also a lizard with mouth age
and i think he was just furious having to live
with three women
and i think he wanted to escape and said
almost to me: kamikazee Musubi if you want
the madness of having to feel the love of three women
you take my place...  
i'd rather come and live with your mother
who you know is cold and she thinks she isn't
but this is you knowing Oedipus comes
from the pressures of the external world and the superego
that is both social pressure and expectation
and the practical jokes of the gods on mortals:
there is no Oedipius in the unconscious:
Oedipus is not an archetype:
he's just the subconscious monstrosity of the involvment
of the gods playing luck and gambling with mortals
they truly hate
because only when it start feeling so good
would it start feeling necessary to pluck both eyes out
rather than one... like Odin...
funnily enough Oedipus is the Father of Odin...
     oddly enough humans can give birth to Gods...
if... gods can give birth to demigods like Hercules and...
Sisyphus who should be extolled not as the futile
servant of the stone:
but as the dutiful father of work:
so that we might not slave alone
futile but come together with commeraderie...
work together so we might not toil:
but work and perfect work so that we might finally
attempt to work as a pleasure
rather than work for work...
but that can only be achieved when the nature of money
is changed...
not until then...
              not until then: the nature of money must change...
how we understand money needs to evolve:
exponentially:
we need to understand money better...
  we understand everything else:
but we don't actually undertstand money...
       we have science: but economics is like...
saying psychology is philosophy...
          economics is at best a humanism... it's not a science...
it's too volatile and we are yet to create
an understanding of money
we are yet to create an understanding: pecunia in vitro...
we actually can't experiment with money as:
pecunia in vivo...
                 we literally can't! we can't experiment
with money
like we might isolate some chemical
and use it: in alchemy that spirit refined: alcohol...
money is too volatile and in constant use
how can you possible understand money
when it's like a virus: volatile and explosive...
economics is a bit like meteorology...
                  the same bogus "science": predictors of perfect
instance of scientific failure predictability:
exact as only certainty allows
but there's also that 0.001% chance of oops
and "divine intervention"...
                                       we don't understand money:
like only yesterday at work we were talking with
Pious about wages...
   and if this supposed economy is built on spending money:
what economy is there
if people don't earn enough to spend?
what happens when the prices of goods go up
as does travel and rent
but the wages don't go up?
what economy is there of buying and selling
when all that you really need to buy is that sustains you:
food... beverages...
and then what happens when you "work for free":
creating your own escapism by writing because painting
is too expensive... it almsot feels utopian: this dream
i'm living in...
i actually don't need to spend money on anything
particular...
i'll buy new trousers should they become used up
and i'll buy new shoes when my socks will be left
with smooth mercury silver of wearing off
because the soles of my shoes will be so worn
and i will grow a beard and not buy shaving equipment...
hmm... sounds about right.