Out of my flesh that hungers
and my mouth that knows
comes the shape I am seeking
for reason.
The curve of your waiting body
fits my waiting hand
your ******* warm as sunlight
your lips quick as young birds
between your thighs the sweet
sharp taste of limes.

Thus I hold you
frank in my heart's eye
in my skin's knowing
as my fingers conceive your flesh
I feel your stomach
moving against me.

Before the moon wanes again
we shall come together.


And I would be the moon
spoken over your beckoning flesh
breaking against reservations
beaching thought
my hands at your high tide
over and under inside you
and the passing of hungers
attended, forgotten.

Darkly risen
the moon speaks
my eyes
judging your roundness
delightful.

Hades escaping the first leaves of virginity
The realm of Io scattering molten silica
In degrees
Water drops from God’s shoulder burst and buried
Her eyes at my scar;  she stops the bleeding
Sucrose sun whetting the crest of a bee
The dutiful molecules of my shirt sleeves
Zaccheus in a sycamore tree
Her words on a southerly trajectory
Crawfish in my grandmother’s stream
The Battle of Moon Sound beaching infantry
A northern gannet nesting her babies
The decibels of smoldering wood beams
Flesh constructing hairs in the breeze
Molecules muddy as I try to breathe
Ghosts approaching the Andromeda galaxy
Stars floating to the top of the stream
I      N      F      I      N      I      T      Y

A mad ride,landslide always surfing,never reaching, never beaching on the shoreline,
waves and cosines and the sum of my times are strewn across the ocean floor,rising,falling always calling me on and on,
summer's gone the storms are here,three cheers for winter, splintering the dashboard of the sky,looking reverse as I stop to converse with back to back and Jack, the frosty chap,doffs his cap at me ,then freezes up the sea,my home.

Foam and latte are the order of the day,the words are set,I'll get the tab you get the cab and let's go somewhere for a mad ride,landslide..
and so it carries on.

Dark death skirts beaches in blood red,
as coffee colored swells wash in more
carnage to the shores;
we are blindly poisoning our waters.

Toxic plumes of red tide cover the seas,
beaching whales and seals,
manatees, and fishes;
we indiscriminately **** our sea life.

The brisk breeze off the Gulf
brings the smell of rotting death
that is all around;
we are blindly killing ourselves.

Our lifeblood,
the seas and its inhabitants,
slowly slip away;
we disrespect nature.

Mother earth mourns
as we continue
to ****** its inhabitants;
we are dying.

Sometimes it's just a conch shell
I am tired of holding
to my ear.

The birdsong outside my window
fills me more than your affection
ever could. When I say I am in love
with the entire ******* planet,
I mean it is impossible
for me to settle down.

I am not the type to sink
in the river, I want to float
on my back through the bloodstream
of the Earth and let the moon tell me
when it is too dangerous to go
swimming.

I never learned how
to swim. I am far too cautious
when I talk. My body is self-conscious
about letting the chlorine of
a summer pool touch me, fill me
like you used to.

I guess that's why I'm leaving,
love. The open air is a much better lover
than the sea. I would rather burn
inside the marrow of a far-off star
than feel alone at the bottom of the ocean,
only fish to guarantee I'm still alive.

Love is Pluto,
drifting in space searching
for something to hold onto
never knowing it is in orbit
circling something it will
never get to touch.

I wish I'd never touched you.
Never felt the sandpapered scars
that fold inside the creases in
your wrists. Never let you think
I had fallen from heaven, I wish
I'd told you I'm searching
for a way to float on top of clouds
without needing a God to tell me
I'm happy.

Maybe I only loved you
when you were unhappy.
Maybe your shoulder blades
never contained the wings I thought
I could see when the lights were out.

Baby, you were the ink
pouring from Shakespeare's
****** quill. You were the barnacle
in the sand waiting to take in
the blood and screaming disbelief
of a child, you were the whales
beaching themselves in one sorry attempt
to taste the grass.

You were the one
to always keep sinking.
It was your sandpaper
I held under my tongue
hoping it would rasp
long enough for someone
to tell me I was bleeding.

You were always
bleeding, especially when
I was gone. Now,
you breathe smoke
and still tell me it's me
who needs you.

It’s lovely to live on a boat
So mobile a dwelling and remote,
But beaching in sand
To dock on dry land,
Is nicer than bobbing afloat.

Notes of rain
on a tin roof
mystify me

I try to put words
to its meaning

As if it is a calling
I listen to its tune

There, sometimes
like a scent of remorse,
a violet storm

Or a flash of a smile
so brilliant it pains

Night stirs the colors
about me with its ladle

But I can’t paint fables
or the whispers that follow

Dreams of love seem so real
for such a short time

I mean to imply something
larger, more inclusive,
grounded and wild

Something that reaches back
into stories we can never tell

Because we are the arc of them,
we are their breathing

Beaching ourselves on lonely shores
wanting only to be saved.

so... Khadija **** Khuwaylid... was not the person who wrote down the Quran? Khadija **** Khuwaylid was not the woman: closest to Muahmmad... who wrote the Quran down? oh Allah: i'm sorry: but this is a nightmare... i don't want an Arabic Polytheistic Nightmare of the Time of Dinosaur Urge: and how ****'ite Islam will be safe closer to India: Islam will survive: i promise you true Muslims that it will survive: but think of India and not Europe: if you are truly Muslim you will seek India: you will not focus on Europe: there is no Europe: Europe is a funnel... a continent of traffic sacrifices... so... the Quran was written by Muhammad's death? Muhammad didn't write it? Khadija **** Khuwaylid didn't write it? well... if Khadija **** Khuwaylid wrote at least one Surah: i'd respect Islam... but Islam was not written by even his first wife? who was Islam: Islam did worse to Muhammad than... well the Jews just crucified an Egyptian or a Syrian: or rather: someone born in Israel who lived in Egypt for several years... then came back and had some sort of ****** awakening of genitals and gene heritage... but i soon learned: so the Quran was written: after Muhammad's death? with the New Testament? YHWH: at least two Gospels are Plagiarisms... HH... at least two Gospels are Plagiarisms... no... i didn't read the book: but you being women: yes, please, read, that, one, book... but please leave me to feel free to read other books and treat them with equal veneration and treat your one book with veneer...

                 ΔEME

                                is that your name:
grammar: david:
you are beyond name:
YHWH is a VERB:
in terms of orientating eyes to tongue
and tongues
to eye and eyes....

    it's not a name in the classical sense:
it's a verb:
the tetragrammaton is best
explained:
VERB:
allah: if monotheistic
is not a complex god
"yahweh" is a complex god
a... complex-god
allah isn't... the letters don't align
to an explanation symmetry:
an explanation-symmetry is
a bit like:
the acute-right
rather than the far-right...
there's this acute-right movements
in politics:
and no one really knows anything...

ah: found it
she lives on KAuai
i live in London
i
sometimes get busy
living with people
and i ha ve no wife
or a child
i just get engrossed in
the life in
a large city
so i was looking
for YHWH
and Jesus descended
with a choir of angels
and then stormed off
in a great wind
when i didn't want
to speak to him
Jesus became my Satan
i had to treat Jesus as
bad as he Treated Satan:
my Father...
how he treated my father
i will never forgive him for!
i will never forgive Jesus
for how he treated my father!
no!
no! no! i will not forgive Jesus
for how he treated my father!
who was Gabriel to Muhammad
and who was Muhammad to Gabriel
i think
i did reply to him
like a Cosmopolitan Jew
Sane
i mean imagine if i went in that
direction and not
in the direction of Manhattan
Woody Allen neuroticism and human
i might as well be the Satan
himself waiting for Jesus
but our Second Meeting
is... His Second Coming
so... ahem...        ahem ahem ahem.....
i'm.... WAITING...
i need to know something about the mountain
and history
and that the only Islam that will survive the Test
of Time is ****'ite Islam
not Sunni Decadent
Dinosaur Bone Juice Oil
Indian! give me RUBBER!
rubber! go gold!
ha ha: nietzsche and too many books
write constipated and in pain
not relaxing
on barbituates
i say: beyond the 20th century and 21st century
decadence of Sunni Islam:
there will Arise an Acu-te-Is-lam
to incorporate the far right
of secular post christianity...
darwinian religiosity immersed with
a negation for Heidegger's 2nd Concept
beyond the Hammer:
next comes... the Book!
philosophising with a Book!
oh jeez!
prophet.....

     but which Socrates Muhammad
Jesus actually held a book in their hand?
i ask you:
i only have one book: technically...
literally... i mean:
the one i'm writing: right now...
then i'll ******* to the world...
and say a whittle: how low?

how low?
i'd rather write her a poem
than speak to her:
i think she knows how she met me:
i'm not a dog
on nobody's leash
and i asked Musubi for Katakana
and Hara Kiri
and the ****** stood by the Empire of the Sun:
i mean:
i can ask the Mongol if he rested
long enough
i can laugh with Buddha
about the 2nd Mongolian Empire
the Slavs instigated by calm persuasion
and Japanese innocent giggle
i mean:
side with the Mongols
if you're thinking with the Mongols
something has to travel far
for the message to get across
to rekindle the oouch
of Mongols stacking skulls into bookshelves
at the Baghdad Library
the Ancients ran with fear...

i mean that's how i see the Islamic world:
historically speaking
Heidegger: hammer:
no voice
hammer extended hand
xenomorph
i need tongue:
hammer                but now i have a book:
so
i
have a script:
i am not Shakespeare i am Satan
and this is my script:
it had to be journalistic
poetic sort
             cascade
               Dua Lipa AlBANIA ENGLAND
don't worry...
there's Albanian and Romanian blood
in this project:
i mean:
i am... married... now...
but i used to frequent brothels in London,
well... the east-east end...
i reread some bukowski just now
and i mean
you know: like: a lot of aufucking pauses:
in the script: funky ***** pantomimes of
feminism...
            
yes Spy:
     i agree:
the robotic voice nirvana my thirst for knowledge
is tamed
i am no longer naked sir:
sir! sir! i was... ******* drunk!
that is when man realised
in the story:
not that he was naked... but...
that he was drunk:
is this the forbidden said in silence
when i need the implosion
of YHWH
i mean: literally implosion
and find a new name for him:
i need help to find a new name for YHWH
and it will come as thus:

Isarael! Israel! you were not Juda
or Judea prior:
Poland disappeared for 123 years
i am asking you Israel
Israel i am asking you
Polka is asking RAEL
i need RAEL to be at the helm
of my king's crown the skies over Poland
we disappeared
for a unification dream of Europe
but @you@
people ""
are just ******* wild... party all night...
the Middle East
had some Precious **** Going
but i chose golf
and Hawaii
on Kauai

        and now i'm like... doggish...
i was asking for letters...
for a new name for
the name has already been spoken
but the intelligent thought
i might not:
think about Roman
Greek and even Korean
how this briefcase of competence
can translate into the big world
the hand world
and i get one quarter of wembley next
thursday
for the guns n roses concerts
a quadrant manager...

Δ
   the implosion of Y...
not god but....

                           γΥ

  or the German for goo:
                                        gü

now i see my Lord:
i didn't be Adam
realised he was naked:
well: i ate the apple: shaman father
oh wait i have a father in heaven too!
fair enough!
and he will be seated on
the Left Hand of the Father:
Christ, Jesus....
    i'm yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
kweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee­eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen
quen
kweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee­eeeeeeeen
oh sassy!
hashish!
mousetache.....

so my tongue: bilingual:
serpents:
Y
yes:
my son would actually be
a polyamarous
polygomous
poly poly poly and a carrot
rather than a *******...
i think that's: @septology by
that Norwegian writer
and i looked into the book
and i suddenly found myself
in alleys
of magazines and self-help guru talk
no actual advice
but really: just advice-self-comforting
tool
for me? they recently invented the AI
chatbots
i go there: you go to self-help gurus
and magazines of distractions
to not think
i think i see you E
that's why i drink and read philosophy:
sorry for not playing the cello
or the violin
i tried
guitar and mandolin
but then i did punk with poetry
because i wasn't with the times
in journalism
that world would come to me
i wouldn't go into
a wave of change the spirit of hope
and change momentum
the higher Architect and gods invoked
to SpinSpinSpin
on the Carousel:
let us imagine God @rested@
and then... oh wait... ****!
god! had fun! sabbath!
god had fun!
god had fun on the7th....
****... so...
  
who the **** was crucified?
Hendon...
aye'ight... let's light this little Moscow up!
fire Volva Vulcan Mosco2
let's light fer up! feral! baby!
let's fire it up!
let's get Russia behind Iran!
Ghost War 1.0
Ghost Wwar 1.0

i call a regime change of thought authority
intellectual democracy
sharing ideas
flake
i get it wrong
not dscrimination
and avenue
of thinking of my wife i think i think
i have a wife:

i lost my RAW
spanish
hemp rolling papers
and i like smoking
when i write
so i think that's really
a no brainer
and if i'll get **** and
get to old age:
you want to see me
when i am the beast
during one of composition sessions
when i write
not like the safety net
of painting class on the Lanai
i mean:
me you and really...
she was sitting with ******:
High Hitter of the Leer...

but i'd love to see Russia snuggle up to Iran
like it snuggled up to Ukraine
and we got some Ukranian *****
in Poland
i think we had a fight with a conviction
of Love...
and i will write these words
and those Wanderings Stars will stop?
right?
wandering: they left? they left?

the ***** in Poland stinks:
or... it's fluorescent monkey juice
brain
hallucinating water people
water...
       but they filter it from how the spirit
stinks i think alcohol poisoning
i think the alcohol my uncle drank
in Poland was the cause
contamination Chernobyll:
i will be the drunk
Kojak Inspector
the water in Poland:
Chernobyll:
he was an alcoholic:
probably could hacve survived:
hello Mutan Brother:
hellp Mutant Brother
i have you right shoulderblade meat:
Kosher:
Yaksheem...

                   i think my uncle was an alcoholic
i am too
and i like being an alcoholi=c
when i get creative
and i sometimes need to get creative
like some sober
sane people
and people need
to surf
don't deny me
if you you
*** that's also catharsis
don't deny my creativinity:
don't starve me
like i can show yow competence
i will be your plumber
i will be your driver
i will try to be your electrician
but
first i need to finger a jellyfish
and remember being an similus aqua
i mean:
if Atlantis is dead
i see a dept
for the agony the grief
of the beaching of Whales
i see a naked world in the drunk underwater self
i see Atlantis i will show you
the beaching of the whales
we forgot to ride
i know that Avatar was a film
but the idea was Image
and the Image didn't become word...
words are words
ideas are complex
a word is a word is a word:
but an image
well:
i am still thinking of the tetragrammaton
i will be working with from now
on...

you must forget god's name:
i will be like good king david was:
Solomon was no MArcus Aurelius...
we got one thing perfectly right:
female ambition
as not ambition:
depicted in painters
who the rightful owner of the baby was:
after all...
these days:
it is common for women to abort beyond
24 months
now i see!
Solomon got it all wrong:
it was the woman
who was not holy in acting:
perhaps she was the woman
who couldn't conceive:
Solomon the Idiot: on the Crux...

Chinese: so... for:::
    small heart...
**** me... small heart in chinese...
i still have YHWH to work with...
the father would know two tongues

why the hypothetical son
i just want to meet Emperor Jesus
of the Empire of Universal Luvvie...
ijust just want some juices
from some apes
and some fruits...

o.k. Jesus:
you a Syrian refugee:
who didn't Judaism just die
and why aren't
the Catholics at your Gate
like the Barbarians at Europe
i think of
Catholics doing what Iran is doing to Israel:
hey! we want in!
Sunni Islam is about to Implode
and all the *** Free
Tirade Tide will End...
i am projects with Irish Catholics and the Dutch...
i think we are trying to rethink what
people tell us:
if Climate Change: isn't real...
then the REALITY of FOSSILS as fuels:
is real:
Climate Change is what's called:
reaching depletion levels of fossil fuels:
at 39:
i just learned to operate a clutch:
i can
category B: manual...
now i see who drives a manual
and an automatic:

but how i see Islam:
it will survive:
in the ****'ite: version:
Persian clinging to India:
India will reform Islam:
India will perfect Islam:
Europe can't perfect Islam:
Islam can't assimilate
Europe and Europe can't associate Islam
to the sacred Trinity
of Authenticity
  Identity
         Idea

     Islam doesn't have to impose itself on
Europe:
see how Islam violated Muhammad?
Muhammad's experience?
Islam did to Muhammad
what "Christianity" did to Jesus...
weird...
you know what Islam did
to Muhammad...
ignored him
called him mad...
i don't even understand
was Muhammad
the like of Noah?
Noah didn't leave a book:
we was (Moses)
told about
i need a general there's this ******* rabble
i just need stones on stones
like people stacking imitation PYramids

i think i need another name:
we are working on it...

oh i see Islam: a religion of peace
with India her mother:
i think
when Islam discovered Africa:
the Africans met Orwell...
but when Christianity
Europe
discovered
@discovered@ new ££
"quoto" E... iz zee quotes!
quptes!

                so no one hallucinated
having clothes on?
did: anyone: have: their: clothes:
on: during:
the: tree: good: evil:
       so no one hallucinated having their clothes
on?
and after the ride
everyone: ate: the: apple:
and everyone was naked?
so... the SPHYNX is a lost reminder?
or something imaginary?
you: are a people:
and call the SPHYNX cat imaginary
or do you call it a : REMINDER?
you want eternity so easy
don't you?

now i see Islam in the context
of India and
Pakistan:
it's how it must be Seen
the India sort of Europe
and the Vatican
uprooted in the Taliban of the Tibet
i mean the place settled by the descendent
of Buddha
from India
into the mountains
what is it with these mountains of celibacy?

there are still the letters:
i weave a slither West of Mast
but there's no laughter in Greek
how no one encoded laughter
in Ancient Greek:
there's no Laughter
in Ancient Greece!
what stoic Ideas!
but the Greeks had no concept of laughter!
why did they have static masks
to persuade people:
ignorant folk:
whether a comedy or a tragedy:
the Ancient Greeks had no concept of Laughter:
there is no vowel catcher and sigh instigator
of YHWH in Greek:

H
EE
have to go... we need to refurbish!
temple?!
sorry? ahem.... what temple?
the idea is not even hot
and there's:
2000 of israel left?

                       ㅐ
                    H   H

in the name: "name" of peace
o.k.
Korean doesn't like Yahweh...
i said:
a name for you
Allah is mental condition
retarted hypercornyhorny
cousin ******* folk
i mean like
complete retards
very barbaric
imagine sunni islam in pakistan
poverty
like i feel the riches
of vatican?
well...
i sort of love high culture myself
i can also visit the brothel
and get you into the underground...
savvy?
savvy?

            i said.... st. peter:
savvy?!

the tv is too loud and my peeled skin
echoes bleeding beaching, I can't get out
and  next door are screaming

a riot of colour and life and celebration
hurts so much I am taut of breath,
please I need help but the words
won't trip off my tongue

I can't bear the uproar
water flashing, roaring , oh
god the suffocation with the sound
of inebriation

I am trying but I

can't
stand it
anymore.

i'm not a hot weather guy

i'm not that summer all year round kind of guy

i toil enough in direct sunlight and hot weather every day,

i have for a very long 36 years now

by early May i am no longer that white guy

i'm already that brown guy,

that savagely tanned guy.

i'm not a beach guy during the day

i don't need to kick sand up in the air with my feet

i don't need to build sand castles with the sun
declaring war upon my back,
my skin

to be fair i find "beaching it" a complete
waste of my time so i never even ponder it

i'm also not the guy that screams "Marco Polo"
in our swimming pool that i am never in

i'm not a boating,

water skiing
or jet skiing guy either,

i'm not missing anything

i don't need bonfires exclusively in summer like most do

i don't need more heat on top of heat,

i'm smarter than that!

i will take a bonfire in crisp autumn air with
the crackling sounds of fallen leaves under my feet

ill take a bonfire to warm my icy hands and toes
after i slide down a snowy country *****
on a rubber tube at lightning speed

i'm not a guy that lays in direct sunlight on purpose

oil lathered over my entire body and tortured skin

cooking my body,

sweating for no other reason
than for vanity and cancer later on in life,

i'm not that guy

i am a guy that likes to cozy and nestle up
in a fresh cool,

apple crisp midnights air

this guy lives for the first sight of a treed hillside blanketed in auburns,

golds,

spearamints,

pumpkins and cinnamons

the first snowflake to fall and dance upon my eyelashes

now that guy i am!

as a poet i also know that i can get just as breathtaking
a sunrise or sunset in the spring,

fall and winter as i can in the summer

so this guy doesn't need a summer time sunrise or sunset either

believe me when i tell ya...

this guy is just not a summer time guy!

Sat on the beach looking out to sea.
Memories in my mind, running free.

The blue sea ebbs and flows.
The white tips of the waves glow.
The sound of the wave is noisy.
The wind is blowing breezy.

The wave begins its inward journey.
Picking up speed, it becomes very loudly.
The wave begins to peak and crest.
The wave looks majestic, at is best.

Its journey nearly over, as it begins to fall.
Its reached its destination and crashes to the shore.

The wave once a thing of beauty is no more.
Its role in life is to live and breathe.
Show people beauty that brings you to your knees.

All day people and children play in the sea, swimminig and surfing freely.
But never take the sea for granted be sure you know the rules.
Being unsafe at the seaside is really not cool.

Lost in my memories of beaching days.
There is no better way to say.
I love you Dad and miss you so.

Freedom paid for with lives and blood,
boots on the ground all around the world,
landing craft beaching on foreign shores,
as bullets, whizz by and bombs explode.

Aircraft were flown, in all manner of skies,
ready to act at a crackle of the radio,
the black depths patrolled by submariners,
watching and listening with tools of sound.

Floating on the surface of the worlds waters,
gun metal gray monsters loaded for bear,
the sailors pride evident in the gleam,
inspiring respect, and fear.

From out of planes they bail,
carrying everything they need,
landing behind and among the enemy,
this is where heroes are born.

Uniforms shined and polished
medals pinned upon proud chests,
tears fall down everyone's cheeks,
as flags are draped and salutes fired.

Freedom purchased with brave lives,
still, some must soldier on,
remember and respect,
the ones in uniform.

I admit, first night was hell...
and hell is not a place of screaming
and torture or fire
and crowd management panic
of a stampede...
it's a silence, a dealing eating silence
to suppose fish don't feel pain
with the exception of the fish
that are also mammals,
whales: who commit suicide by
beaching themselves...
that's not suicide Jonah?
When was the last time a whale
was invoked with such majesty-biblical
the former hellspawn of the depths
Yes what depths are to speak
of Mr. Psychologist if the whale
is a creature that requires a breath
it's not some lantershish
some abomination but a familiar beating
heart of mammalian unison...
hell is a silence... a deafening awe
that pairs scissors with knives...
mountains with former mountains
that are now deserts...
what used to be the great mountains
of Sahara... so much so that people
decided to revise what used to be
by spitting and ******* and *******
a birth of civilization via the concept
of life preserved eternal
in the great necropolis:
first night, just humming of the cctv
computer, that eight eyed ghoul...
i the ghost to boot...
impromptu: buy myself a radio....
patua spreschen...
in the 12h from 7pm to 7am
there is so much you can do...
with sugar and caffeine
and I started smoking again to double up
on what caffeine misses...
reading Dune with enough time
apart from seeing the movie
to appreciate the words...
backgammon and the banality of
games of fate, chance, imagine chess
being orientated around the luck, the draw,
die...
reaching out to loved ones, esp one,
magnetic girl: dried pasta muncher
as I wonder: pebble dust if she
switched to a diet of swallowing metal
knots...
I am mentally drained and finally
reaching a worker-ant crescendo
of being numbed into a dissociation
von-sein-da (from-being-there) or hier:
heir to "a" here: problem solving
Athens and the Germanic black root
of humor and full moons
Arbeit arbeit macht not so frail...
Tiredness and the contingency plan
of thinking about endurance sports...
like walking marathon lengths of distance
is easier than standing as pilgrim
in the fort of pillar for the same amount of time:
if not double that...
only today I wept at the sun
then talked
then laughed
then became mad spontaneously
and only for a short while...
besides the capacity to have
to eat for the reassurance of stamina...
there's only so much you can do
within the confines of the night on
a 12h ball breaker...
I get bouts of insatiable need to
******* to ease off the pressure
on my shoulders, Promethium Atlas
rereading of the vicinity...
but! if I treat writing this dribble-scribble
like others might relax when
solving a crossword puzzle...
8 cameras and I try to be professional
about it, namely: to be present
but also with the alias: invisible:
gently nudging reality into motion
beginning from the shadow-front...
then I wait for the hour of radio
transmission from 12am onwards
where advertisers give up churning
milk into the butter to dough of
attention spans willing to shpend
shpend shpend.... seriously?
Pedantic of me: if Liszt the Z is a surd
like in thought you can write
(th)ou(gh)t...
I ought I not note oughts and noughts...
primo: th is
what conjecture is relating
theta to eta...in Greek...
This third night and I'm in my element
I am finally orientated
to the compactness of scrutiny of space
and the hyperbolic concept of time-fluctuations:
minutes are meaningful...
hours are meaningless...
days are organic...
weeks and perhaps...
months don't exist...
years I pardon with the gravitas of
a meaning that's inorganic...
time is a special creature
while space with all the universe
so... oh so *******... un- -spec- -tac-
-ular! Ursuline girls would know...
Tis my first night of writing while
on the "job" and how gratifying
the similtude of being ambidextrous
schizoid bilingual of mind..
Schubert first... people should seriously
switch off their t.v. sets and get into
the kink of listening
to classical music radio station at night...
the **** and geese flying?
Solo goose... sorry missed that
Bad WiFi in Lebanon?
Walkie Talkies exploding because
Zee Chimney ChooChoos said so?
Mount my ******* Orion to Zion cannon
of trajectory?
This **** had been happening
since that eventful day I was flying
back from Kauai, last year, 7th October,
2000... 23...
wow... only 15 minutes past 11pm
And I have 8 hours to conjure up
a human with abrupt allowances
of deviating from the magic of:
making inanimate objects animate!

I ate the crumbley matter
I ain't
adjacent to
in shame

all those
nearby
tilts
covering

unkempt hair
glasses
timepieces
gone awry

til now
beaching
inland edge
up sharp

i've cut
into
tomorrow
sweet like

My hands sail
with seasoned ****** steering
  precision
slowly southward,
along the waves
  of your hair,
before beaching along
        silky skinned shores.

Navigating marked territory
my fingertips travel,
      tracing
  southwardly patiently
journeying my modern odyssey
along your ribcage paved path
  towards my epicurean mecca
of lush fuzzed meadows
while you cling to me
in our linen pastures
with cosied ivy proximity.

Your spread spent body
      covers the disheveled
    bedspread,
  soaking wet
skin glistening
  bronze,
  from a
first placed finish.

I am the redwood tree reaching down to the core of the earth and up to the sky

I am the northern lights flashing rainbow colors through the sky  

I am the light flashing from a lighthouse and glowing from the bottom of the ocean

I am a gray whale swimming from the warm waters of the south to the northern ice

I am depleting, my roots shrinking, my branches being cut down

I am lights flickering out from the energy, negative all around me

I am floating with plastic bags and beaching on the sand

I am the ice, melting and unable to support life

I am fading into nothingness, extinction created by thoughtlessness

I am the light and I am fading....

Love, the Earth

shy hush: the coughing like
Vulcan:
and the gravity of ground
i can
because i can petition
for South Africa being returned
to the Europeans
while everyone still fight
over the East and West Coast
like an expansion of Europe
then the places least known
i think it's butter
colors margarinne
margarrine
mmm   butter
i don't but there's a thought
the funnel civilization
the guys waiting for a train or a bus
the European guys:
i need to get out of here:
i have the Roman Empire to Preach
to the people with Drugs like
Opiates in China
but **** me they didn't learn
the old dragon in reading
a lost lot of them were like cannon
fodder and fold 'em shirts...
type of people: yet
very compact and happy
at love is life is strife...

                   but i want South Africa back...
but i want south Africa back...
closer to Antactica:
we will be the first people before the ******* moon!
weird nerdy looking types!
not serious poets and chemist
just happy to
be on Antactica
rather than the moon!
geologists...
yes yes...
we're on Antarctica
and 10,000 meters under the ocean(s)....
it takes time... and the space for patience...
to explore the future:
Antarctica is the future...
no space trave:
little big boys playing big smart
little boys:
we have to understand the dynamic
of the continent of Antarctica...
we have to plan for that:
not the Meteor:
you idiots know that Global Warming is Happening
the Dinosaurs got dealt a ******* meteor:
quick painless death and rebirth...
we have christ and bachelorhood
and no more kids no agony of Eve...
and thinking about Antarctica:
not abound landing on the woom
moon...
instead for mining minerals like
silicon
and how to best control man...
                  but we have to study Antarctica...
the whales
prior to
or after the stop of being culled...
started beaching themselves
in suicide...

                    but the planet will change
and we will have to entertain people that
are only here for fun...
i will have to forever cater to fun...
fun must be a lost god among
the greeks...
Democles and Dyonisius:
weren't exactly gods of fun
when is drinking fun if you have
no control over it?

the Poles are spending their GDP
on promises rather than weapons
while the Ukrainians are being
given weapons for free
and thinking that Ukraine is aligned
with western liberal democracy
is foolish if not thinking about
giving enough freebies to Russia...
the Ukrainians don't even
write in Latin...
    how many Europeans of any stock
still feed an alignment with the Greek?

Words wash up
on me
Sounds towel off
i hear
Things juxtapose
themselves
What would you do
i gasp
at the temerity
beaching itself
while i
race by

do instigate
something
they say

I just
write on
it

Eliade is ambiguous
Abraham and Isaac too

Ishmael knows ambiguity
God hears in Hebrew

I cannot fear my contradictions
They prove I am quite human

My mind flies toward the divine
But no one is assumin'

That I actually get there
I'm down here with all the others

So often so afraid
For my wife and sons and brothers

The body is the prison of the soul
According to Plato's teaching

But those bodies look so fine
When beauty Satellite Beaching

The soul is a mystery
No evidence until its absence

Sometimes I think she's my soul
That I haven't had since

We all become a corpse
Cornel West says that's funky

Eaten by worms or burned to ashes
Discarded and car *****

When my body turns to ashes
Throw them in Elliott Bay

If T.S. Eliot swims by
Tell him I say Hey

                         Along the Way