"centralised" poems
Meaning
f
a
l
l
I
n
g
like sparrows in silent wind
like leaves in seasonal flux
again and again….
into the violent dirt
inflamed mud
where we pity the worms
and their empires of clay and mortar
a pomegranate a jewelled pagoda
moving and centralised
cyclic and stagnant.
Everywhere, I do not see
directed untowards
magnetic poles.
Agni-metic people.
The sparrows song
in underwater caverns
startles ripened ears
(wrinkled, warn, and walled)
between dogmatic slumbers…
ertras, I can hear you
»»»»» —————————————-» [you]
where?
f’-> : {inside euclidean halls}
meaning, falling
passageways toward
nothing. [frameworks]
-oliver and jonte
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Rippling down the stream
Of many peoples consciousness
An effervescent future life
Stripped of this abhorrent distress
A future filled with study
Free for each and every human being
A world with no false borders
A world with far less disagreeing
And a universal language
Forged with available technology
That translates in real time
Enhanced with anthropology
Giving us a precise understanding
Of how each other achieve solutions
A pragmatic communication
Circumnavigating ****** revolutions
We would calculate the earths resources
And how to evenly distribute them
Then we would dispose of pointless cash
Like ill people dispose of phlegm
Our centralised political weasels
That do far more harm than good
Would be replaced by microchips
Programmed to not be misunderstood
It is an interesting proposal
To those with a humane conscience
But to those smugly enjoying advantage
I guess it is annoying nonsense
So we must wait for millions to be displaced
For total world economic collapse
The greedy spoilt brats will listen then
Or will they continually relapse?
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
in terms of a cyclops: it's one extreme
or another...
a cyclops can never be cross-eyed,
it can never be blurry for him -
even when the tip-of-the-nose
is just that,
having two eyes
is enough to see two sides of
an argument with the precision
of aquatic optics - blurry today,
blurry tomorrow -
nibble the left,
nibble the right...
then centralised: or Newtonian -
the unlearning of gravity
for the purpose of learning
selective magnetism and a stitched-up
smile.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
me and collie took the town by storm,
black man and white man
drinking buddies? what a rarity.
uncle didn’t join us the old ghanian,
we had drunk sentimentalities, of course,
but when russel the schizoid rudolf came
up and told us the tottenham man city score
i went into the alley and almost ****** myself
prior shouting h and a into an ivory rattle of teeth.
but what a night, collie’s girlfriend i also met,
i remember kissing her dry brown skin
on the bone of finger, before being chauffeured home;
but of course, before all that, staring into
the gape of being centralised by the passerby’s eyes,
a lot of english pyjama beauties walked the talk
getting their score of **** -
if not more.
but as i pointed out to the white colt - the jeans below the knees
with... calvin kleine - ‘mate, you need flashy underwear to
walk with your **** exposed - primani ain’t gonna cut it for the hoes.’
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
I stood in the night
Single cigarette sizzling towards the tremble of my fingers
I miss you.
Stars dance in the haze of teared eyes
As the moth flirts in the amber hum of a distant street light.
I focus on its centralised nebula
Its burst of heated shades, its distant sun beams.
Looking down upon the single star in my hand.
This is where I would pass to you, for the final breath.
Yet you are only in the stars.
Within a sky we have prayed towards so many times.
I love you.
For even without you,
You are forever within me.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
*i’ll tell you all the blasphemies about jesus christ, having ****** out a prostitute’s **** and **** for ten quid extra on top of ten quid entry fee into the brothel and one hundred and ten’s worth for an hour - you can start by posing on or off the cross with the celebrities: idolatry in the flesh.*
my face isn’t that much of an **** ******** out a ****
so when i have a dream...
and dream of an egg cheese and ham sandwich
having fasted the previous day,
waking up on a salivated on pillow,
having posted a picture of my face
on an internet site where a few maidens read me
i get the impressionism in freudian theory:
my dreams can’t have that solipsistic dimension
of self-projection,
so i get up, drink two glasses of half water half milk,
have coffee, smoke a cigarette and think **** out,
all because, as we’re standing we’re all fruit flies
on a rotting apple, or just ***** flies in a web,
and the spider / rotting apple is centralised
by artificial intelligence, i.e. the intelligence that was
once a part of alan turning... so this crossover
connectivity of conscious thought and false self-projection
of the unconscious is simply elaborated
that the freudian interpretation of dreams has an
element of solipsism in it, which would ensure i could
project anything i wanted in my unconscious (which i have
no control over) and thus... upon wake... be unable
to imagine anything i wanted... which is not true...
since upon waking i can imagine anything i want,
but in the unconscious i can’t dream anything up...
which makes sense why paul mcCartney dreamt up
the song yesterday on the sly, without any conscious effort
other than the mechanical effort of having to note it down & record it.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC