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Veasna Ta Kvak recording
playback
over Chinatown cafe again
while recounting recent events
to journal pages
muddled from frequent
exchanges bag to bag
(Been to Taipei airport, Bali, Vancouver, most
recently)
blind fate
blind fate
shower me with Indian daisies
and photographs of Railway
New Delhi!
Hanoi Old Quarter/
Vietnam monsoon/
evening on balcony/
Darjeeling water boiled
and filtered anti-malaria
golden drink for honeylungs and
spring-soul morningtide
under moonlight canopy
of Avalokiteśvara
the fruitful
Bodhisattva!
English lessons
and future
hourless
comely chimera
in sleep phenomenon
Benares phantasmagoria YELLOW
(near Mata Anandamai Ghat)
speaking to Aghori
prophecy
Kala Bhairava
FIERCE ILLUSORY APOCALYPSE FAMILIAR
WHERE IS YOUR NOOSE?
the Ganges is full of lice and flowers
candlewax melted into holy water
sickness
equal to
harmony & jubilant
eyeclose and mouthcurl.

The future mysteries in
Mexico City poorboy
$2 mystic orb jade green
reflective underneath
dirt now in North American
bottom white four floor house
basement suite coffee table.
Visions indivisible
from the Viridian roundly haze
but surefire in their accuracy
I'm absolute
and universally formed
for the next few cacophonous
decades!

Leaf.
Golden and green, then brown and falls apart.

Is Death really so bad?
It creates for such beauty.
It Spins the Wheel.

A skull with horns.
To some, unfathomable...
to see, a sense of aesthetic so profound as it sits there on the mantle before a snow filled fireplace.

I crumble the leaf...
...steals away my pride.

I remember one day I will crumble,
fall away,
and die.

It is not such a horrible thing.

For, I am excited to see what lies beyond the Blackened Gates of the Earth.

And when my candle snuffs out in 120 or more years from now, it will be with an angel-light, glowing white, in my heart.

Without Death, there would be no Creation...no Birth.

Think about it.
Feel it.
Meditate upon it.

Like an Aghori, who sits upon a human grave, holds a human skull, and dusts himself in cremated remains...
Embrace it.
Bathe in the metaphoric blood of ancestral light.
Roll in the soil.
Taste the bliss of release.

For then, and only then...
can you walk through the Valley of Life...
Removed entirely...

...

...from Fear.

Render, and then Pill the Argonaut dead
Was such my Foul Plan most likely to Moot
So dissect I did; And Confess instead
To Tad Boot's Purpose breach this Hurl to boot
Which you, Kilowatt, continue to Shock
Even if such Current flows to displace
You have your Viziers; And your Writers lock
To Salt your Sweetness from such lone Disgrace
Till come to Senses I wired Respect
Which one must detect his Saint's Boon Relief
Or the Aghori - whom out of Defect
Drank morbid fluids from his skull's belief.
Worry not, Sir. Soon my Feisty Tea dissolve
Then let Others flavour to your Absolve.

chasing rabbits -

chasing rabbits:
slowly...
   reimagining standing
still on a treadmill.     (502)

she had to come round for about two hours today, my neighbour, she must have sniffed out that i was making pizza... i love making pizza slightly tipsy... i did the house chores and started writing this, abandoned it, now that i returned to it... well, what could have possibly changed? pristine ******* dough... ooh... what a lovely cushion of flour and water and sugar and a pinch of salt and: yrast... i love the smell... hmm mmm hmm... these hands make magic... the pizza sauce? compliments on that, of course... what did i add? oh... just a read pepper... some paprika: i wish i used some Kashmiri chilly powder... perhaps i had... garlic... onion... blitzed... sieved... twice... plum tomatoes... itch of the juice: clenched teeth saliva boiling: juicy... thinking: my tongue is a knife... now i'm going into the garden and drink a beer, or two... try finding the moo... ah ha ha: moo! moon! ah-woo! no... quiet right... one needs a forest to find the howl! but at least i can bark... when some fox penetrates the gardens and the dogs start barking... i'll bark too! free! free! free! so my neighbour likes my cooking... great! am i about to think: capitalistically?! start a pizzeria?! i like do: what tool is expected to do... because... i have "other" concerns"... the whole veneer of interacting with people is: what it is: a veneer... i have to entertain both the Jezebel and the Sophia... Sophia is difficult: since she's as abstract as Athena... it's not a lost libido: it's not impotence... it's... why would i want to ******* if you're going to spend my Saturday afternoon shopping for ******* curtains... or... whatever?! oi! Libra! come 'ere! this weigh-in weigh-out doesn't make sense... can you apply your corrective scrutiny to the "problem"? - i do make some fine pizza... no one's taking... fair enough... fair ******* doubly enough... more for me... more for oblivion... to which i answer: ah-men.

тo йeст щыт:
to jest szczyt...
diese ist der gipfel!

it only happened once...
discouraging: "discouraging" a circle
or omicron from being a circle
and becoming an ellipse: a 0... a zero...

"god" is not a moralist...
he's an existentialist...
          "he" he not not "he"...
only in English is the phenomenon
of a pronoun "problem" prevalent...
shrapnel-tongue:
               schrapnellzunge -
it's so unusual for anyone speaking
in the Slavic tongue(s) to overuse
the pronoun: iota as much as the English do...

it's like Knausgaard mentioned
about the Swedes... a people that haven't
been invaded by another people for a while...
no memory of subjugation...
the cultural Cyclops(es) of the world...

the English are pretty much the same...
they're being invaded: politely:
by their standards...
mosque after mosque reiterations...
the implosions of the greatest empire
the world has ever seen...

what?! i'm like Voltaire... i'm not native:
i write what i see...
this is not an invasion: this is not a polite invasion:
this is not an implosion of the lost
pride and empire?

once ol' Lizzie dies... it's not like...
however many popes and prime ministers she
died will have died...
tyrannical matriarchy...
          
well... if... "if"... john wallis "invented" the lemniscate:
a concept and a compact symbol:
all the same... back in 1655... ∞
who "invented" the number 8 or the letter B?

i know who invented the letter B...
******* with modern feminism and all that
came prior with the Sibyls and Carmenta:
*******: modern woman!
i get my ******* elsewhere...
among women that still want to have some
joy in life... who else?! prostitutes!
no ******! because: we're symbiotic:
hygienic minded people!
   ******* with your
       cluster-****-of-****-*****-scabs!
flaking away... flaking away...
wash... your... *******... hands!

once upon a time women held very
important positions in society...
now? microwave ovens shoved that dream
right up our ***** with 12" ****** sticking
out...
         of course i'm *******!
why wouldn't i be?

     bitter? no... i just enjoy the plethora of emotions
that come with rage and doubt as much
as those that some with the soothing:
mollusk tenderness: melting... ice-cream
of ooh-oops of love...
           but...
                            b-b-b-b-ut...
something's itching me: i just heard
a quake of thunder in the sky through the loud
music playing in my earphones...
i'm on the right track...
           if there's lightning but no thunder...
esp. in the night: i'm suspicious...
but if there's thunder and no lightning:
comfort music... i must be hungry...
i think i'll sacrifice a chicken tow-toe-into-the-night...

(towing, a)

       let's just say: "hypothetically":
"god" created the pristine man... the advocate...
the priest... the "somewhat" and some "other"...
as curator for the basis of ontology..

the rest?! mutations: self-generated prejudices...
the original plan was X...
but the plan morphed and became Z...
there's no point blaming a deity for a lack
of intervention: who would want to entertain
the idea of free will while at the same time
succumbing to a c.c.t.v. "state" (of existence)?

life without effort is not worth living:
but then again: carrying the burden that ought
to be shared equally: for others...
Somalis... the English and their *******
anti-racism mantra: fair enough!
you abolished the slave trade...
fair enough! but now the English are
getting culturally ***** by their lenience!
a people that haven't been subjected
to conquest for a long, long... long time...

they have become: complacent!
   too agreeable! trust-worthy pilots flying to:
**** knows where... not even the seagulls know...
perhaps only in London...
elsewhere perhaps they're as thick-as-custard...
but in my vicinity...
            
a bit like my facebook page...
the "people you may know"... what? stalkers?
why is this coming up?
this website used to be dead for me for a while...
now i'm getting this "issue" with:
"people you may know":
i never used a dating application, but it's starting
to feel like i'm using one...
i'm swiping right sieving through:

uriel darl, souad dharhi, aura huckerthman,
   andressa wangel, yus ningsih, el drema,
gülan meriç(ch), ramina amores, kristina jodzkiene,
angie biada, consuelo siouxe, sulistiawatisetya setya,
Xриcтинa Линчкo (christina linchko),
             unayah naya, goharik javahiryan,
Гaлинa Лaщeнкo (galina lashchenko),
    nilufar shermatova, cecile valeron mmaacv,
Kaтя Пaлий, nelu medina, maryati pujiman,
cida oliv, thaizth mendezt, katell seignoux,
lorena ramirez, taylla kamylla, keyza adelia putri,
kelly martins, emma ryan, carnevale chiara,
douce tusorapas, sonia de flaviis,
              carmen antonela, rosalia delgado,
delpine lafontaine -, cegail rapley,
            ariel alear, aghori aaleem,
                   florine fremont, mary HM,
dorota zarzycka, tayana zakh, megan barfield,
helena maria soares, jan lose, perrine kali-yoga,
annie zhou, angel mawar, sabrina muhlberger
(that's with an umlaut hovering above the "yew"),
sylvie lescan... ****'s sake the list is endless!

i'm bored of listing all the "friend" suggestions...
all of them: women!

don't blame me! blame the algorithm!
i've never seen these women!

     nope... life's not interesting enough to be
fully sober...
not even close... life's make more sense drinking
and typing typos: finding TY-POS...
i don't imply: drinking in your face...
on the street with other winos...
i mean: drinking alone, at night...
   listening to foxes... spotting a rat scuttling...
admiring the moon...
thinking: how does one not write
a Chinese haiku... how does one?

    i'd love to find a woman that could cook
better than me...
i truly: would love to...
keeping the chicken at best the highet
of 165 degrees Fahrenheit...
medium rare beef... hmm... debatable...
145 degrees Fahrenheit is probably my maximum...
****... i think we're questioning 125...

i'm yet to find a woman who's...
pedantic about:
not butchering a piece of beef steak twice...
i can't... butcher a piece of meat twice:
corrupt it with the Arabic tendency
to obscure the fresheness of blood...
and that: stale... yuck... sawdust...
beef overcooked... in the format of steak...
i can't butcher a beef twice:
we know... it's obvious...
the males are segregated for the meat
while the females are kept for the milk...
no irony...
                  
          it was preordained:
no point cowering away from the cruelty
by replacing authentic meat with
vegetable substitutes...
or... synthentic cat-food pseudo-proteins...
or bean-burgers...
i sometimes roam the fields in Essex
and see the horses...
well... aren't you the lucky ones?
shouldn't you be... extinct?!

                   shouldn't they? why would you
need a horse... when you have a bicycle...
when you have a car?!
so... why keep them?
i'd love to pet a horse...
i loved riding horses...
not ******* Lamborghini no
rich boy ******* Ferrari will ever compare
to riding a horse through a forest
at full gallop!

               not even if i were getting a blow-job
in a car... speeding... in those sort of cars...
no... nein nein nein nein!

i'm immune to envy of that sort...
i'm against society as such...
  what?!    Q = ?!
                 isn't the western tradition invested
in individualism?!
                                   q

why would i need a car when living
in London...
when... i can cycle around London and back
in about 5 hours...
take the train to Liverpool St. in about 30 minutes...
i don't have to:
a) think about paying for parking
b) ditto about paying for road tax
c) m.o.t.
d) e) f) g) and any imaginary points
you might conjure...

               now... you give me a horse?
the game changes... i'd love something larger
than the already Maine **** cat that could come
across as a poodle (no, not a puddle)
size-wise...
    i love the coyness of horses...
            they really do require you to become
patient with you...
unlike those ****** of dogs that can immediately
run up to strangers and blah blah tail wiggle
and: whatever...
cats... semi-, on the spectrum...
horses though... brooding *******...
they take oh so long to gain their trust...

i was roaming the fields, the forest at night...
blasted: beyond comparison...
i forgot my apple,
i forgot my cube of sugar...
came across a herd of them...
gave one of them my hand to...
nibble... it nibbled...
then retracted: are you mad!
you're implying i'm readily willing to
eat man-flesh?!
it buckled... glancing my forehead
with its hind hoofs...
"buckled"... no...
the ****** almost knocked me out...
because it started nibbling on my fingers
"thinking" i might have a treat
of an apple in my hand...
massive teeth... buck-tooth...
even more massive hoofs...
    
         i sort of wished he knocked me out...
the last "thing" i would have seen
was the moon...
and the sheen of lubrication
of quicksilver pouring over almost everything...
like a: liquidified mirror...
        just like that: like a liquidified mirror...

how long will this tyranny last?
    i want to be as old as Plato and be as exhausted
as Plato...
and still retaining my heterosexual flaovuring...
of that rancid old man...
until that time comes...
        at my peak: i want to play with my
yo-yo...
                all the women that are interested are
either single mums or married women...
young girls are uninteresting:
i'm not a predator... i'm a herder...
         young girls are boring...
"boring": i.e. unrelatable...
    the sexes have diverged beyond
compensation...
                          funny that:
i'd rather spend an evening with a bottle
of whiskey than with a woman...
with a bottle of whiskey and my own thoughts
than with a woman...
                     even i am struggling to comprehend
this anomaly...
      
why talk? when you can be left alone
foraging for new music?!
akin to keluar's - vitreum?
                        i get the romance part...
but... the plan part i don't get...
   the plan being: i work... i work... i have no socks...
i pretend to have underwear...
i work... i work... i do overtime...
i come back home and... and...
     who does the cooking?! i hate her cooking!
she always overcooks the pasta!
she under-seasons the sauce!
                she can't do **** with yeast!
i make my own pizza... i cook my own food...
i get the romance aspect being sold:
but... what's the plan?!

           she already has children by some
other ****-wit...
i get the romance bit... but... what's the plan?!
i can cough up: pretty much all of my earnings for
her and her *******... i can make concessions...
by then: there's the plan...
but there's no longer the romance...

by now:
do i really want more? than simply a bed to sleep in?
can life afford me
any emotional adventure?
do i want it?
              i like my own company
too much to let anyone share it with me...
not out of a feeling of superiority...
just out of necessity... almost god-like...

         habitually: i'm just not used to having
people increment the details of my personal life...
i like them: behind a membrane...
a niqab...
                 i don't care where you put them:
i just dont want them near me!
except for the children and the animals...
i could spend an eternity with these two
classifications...

                 one night with Sharon Stone...
when Sharon Stone was Sharon Stone
and when te 1980s where the 1980s...
she just reminds me of: Samantha....
kissing Milena..
            
                               i really miss these girls..
i hope they forget me
with a burning: sensation ...

history will not be kind to us...
we'll be a laughing-stock of the ages...
let us pass.... let us pass:
into the lava lamp of Hades.

love, at best, is something to be made into
an ideal: with the help of memory,
or rather: love should only be given the
theatre of memory -
it can never become this platonic hierarchy
of madness associated:
lovers come first, poets come second,
prophets come third...
i have grown to appreciate love...
i managed to invest an idealism in it...
experienced its empirical default:
i.e. at fault... and left with...
a a cinema of memories...
minute details of perfection that will
never be, or will ever be replicated...
i'm not a woman, after all...
widower swan that i am...
i loved once... and that once is no longer
a future... or a today...
a tomorrow... love has passed me
and it remains in the past...
perhaps that's why i cling to german
idealism and nothing associated
with: well... perhaps the tender licking
of french existentialism:
but not islander... nothing english focused...
nothing isiolationist...
nothing: quick to the mob!
slow on the individual harangue!
i see violins succumb to the congregation
of sparrows...
i see drums echoing and bellowing
from disgruntled indigestion
like tectonic shifts...
and the sly barons of base...
pacing out a subtle rhythm section
that's half-wit-air and half-borrowed
time of the earth's composition in
the symphony of geology...
and all that is, or ever will be beautiful...
will never be the married man...
or will ever be:
the woman who has met being served her
whim to... all that she wasn't required...
was be ugly and write a book...
perhaps a poem would have sufficed...
"ugly"? as in: unappealing
to the majority of the digest (i.e. readers)...
alternatively?
there was that ms. amber and ginger ale...
ginger ale? we've run out...
what's the alternative?
lemonade!
well then, we'll be having our ms. amber
whiskers and lemonade upon
a chance hoisin plum (not prune)
sunset... and of all those sunsets prior
to this being written...
and those genesis sunrises...
i still only feel in love with
the thunderstorms... the plush pulp
of those snow-ridden-bulge-weight of clouds...
the atari-purple signatures...
current retro-wave-80s pop & disco...

the sunrise with a fishing trip with
my grandfather...
the 5am wake up call to sight-see
Cracow...
and never, ever, ever, visit any of
the concentration camps...
i guessed he was wrong...
i subsequently praised the hebrew...
i smoked a cigarette...
and used my hand as an ash-tray...
after i finished the cigarette...
and licked the cusp...
i had enough ash on my tongue...
to later signature the deed
unlike some eucharist *******-yourself
silly in Tel Aviv...
licked the ash...
shot of ***** to signature the new
eucharist...

because i'll be ****** if i'm not already
****** that germany...
is something that only **** germany is allowed
to persist for!
15th century medieval songs!
i'm tired of juggling both elvis and ****
germany... i'm tired of this anglophile gloating...
i'm tired of juggling both
jefferson airplane and... **** germany...
i'm tired of: it!
i'm so tired that i wonder why my handmaidens
of "my people's party" never figured a way
out a handsome past always
banging on about the reperations intended
from germany
or the russian war guilt et al...
look!
the jews received their war reperations...
some jews still receive it to this day!

i'm langing... tired of the 20th century...
the 20th century is a paradox in that...
the good is overshadowed by the bad...
the 21st century is becoming a welcome break...
implying that: some of us will be allowed
to explore tongue and tongue in cheek...
but not really...
it's not like some stupendous Stendhal will
be: brisk and loitering!

i'm tired of the 20th century...
not it a way that will be a tiredness associated
with midnight in paris and a reminiscene
of paris with hemingway...
f . s. fitzgerland: always...
always: the never too great a gatsby...
if you're going to write a novella...
marquis de sade's: ******...

to have not inherited the 20th century...
to have been born in 1986...
but to only have... two focus points
that are to be borrowed from that century?
****** was an Austrian...
Stalin was a Georgian...
"thank ****" that Mao wasn't a Mongol!
it's also called the habsburg-heimlich:
subversion...

currently? turkey-fodder-bulimic-eating-disorder:
shove those ******* piles of dough
where they should come out of!
savvy?
20th century and the most democratic
history lesson in all of time...
so many people to keep a ref. of...
no wonder the mirror escapism is:
being relegated to an instagram profile...
nonetheless: of this i am certain...
this is no formal language usage...
and if, even if this is given an informal
language use-status?
it's not going to be used...
not outside the cerebral domain...
not outside the shy constricts...

not when rap is waging "war" on...
what could otherwise be said with the same
sense of importance but no necessity to exhibit
bombast to attract an audience...
i'm tired of the 20th century because...
well... since 2001...
there might have been a war in iraq...
there might have been a war in the graveyard
of nations: afghanistan...
but there's only been...
pepper bind bidding of a life in London...
as there's an irrelevant south London Croydon...

there has been a history but...
outside of the rubric of learning...
there's this... god-awful journalistic amnesia!
journalism as a "history" is no history
to begin with...
why even Aristotle or Copernicus or...
Li Bai are remotely used as memory-jolts...

i guess some pursuits just come with
a prerequisite of temporal territory:
since they are not appreciated
by a contemporary presence...

poets, philosophers, pickle-farmers...
as i could have been the best plumber
of a generation and i would never require...
a lag of praise...
perhaps i don't need that either: right now...
but there's always a "post-mortem hindsight
conundrum"...

given, chances are...
there will be someone akin to me...
a necromancer...
who has a lovely library of books...
that outstrips the wealth of a local library...
but... all the writers in the collection
are dead...
and every time he reads a book...
he's resurrecting someone from:
"sleep"...

why don't i own books by my contemporaries?
the newspaper review sections
come saturday and sundway are filled!
filled to the brimful! with living people
reading books by living authors!
perhaps i am of the lower caste...
the Aghori...

contigent of the categorical impetus for:
what is required as a measurement...
what is required of "filling the void"...
also the H is a surd in this Raj of an: afternoon tea...

but as one is best equipped...
i'm waiting for the coinage... Charlie III
on the sly copper flip...
and the newly insurrected banknote plasta-masta...
since Lizzy Shingles 2nd-ture will be outs...
and outed...
but no no...
of course all the glamour of:
when the frost settles and you take a walk...
the frost on concrete...
is like paparazzi flashes of eager cameras...
but there's no red carpet...

like craps blinking come the midnight
harvest in the north sea...
lazy god examples... Zeus, Poseidon...
always eager-fucky-fucky-adventurers...
of the shallow **** of: begone tomorrow!

come the 3rd hour of the morning...
i'm still scribbling like a chicken is cought scratching...
if only, i, a variation of a butterfly...
and... concerns for...
concerns for... fashion...
and the agriculture of leisure having
to allow a yacht to plough the seas...
where the horse?! where the earth?!
where the ******* potato...
among the popping bottle of prosecco?!
where, is, d'ah... *******...
sun-tan... oiled up fwench hoh-nion soup-ah?!