spontaneous amnesia:
well, you know,
something akin to further
a liking of something
just: hammer to the nail
apparent,
and for that matter: useful.
headphones plugged into
the laptop,
and everytime i want
to tap the repeat button
of a song...
i look sideways and at
the windowsill,
pretend to scratch my nose,
and find the hand
with no further utility...
not a rigid diagnosis
or a pre-mature dementia...
i have a bank's worth
of the brain to sift through...
they almost added the next
nodding parrot to
the unslept pillow of
the numbers of man...
via the rubrics of school...
even i can't believe that
university education
was a waste of time...
mind you: those 12 hours
a week in the chemisty
lab. were worth it...
esters...
organic chemistry -
and to think:
if only, they made
perfumes in Scotland,
apart from the drinkable
amber of the 'ugh Scout...
wh'o would have known...
but this is unlike
that season 5, episode 11
**** switch from
the x-files...
my internet rummaging:
basic,
china shop, bull...
run in
and charge against
a cluster-**** of
a presupposed cloud
of letters
first attempt:
e f /f
o o s o r o o l t /o
e v r /r
e f e e n e s e l e /e
v r
m /y
n c o s c s s e s /s
u t /u
t o m u b i /t
e l o /l
t c y /m
t c /b
n s n i e c /n
a a /a
c b s c c m i n c /c
n i s i i t /i
the sentence?
for every subtle complaint
of conscience:
consciousness becomes
limbo-state constrictive
rubric...
f f
o o o o o o o o o
r r r
e e e e e e e e e e
v v
y
s s s s s s s s s
u u
t t t t t t
l l l
m m m (anomaly in
the form of... the hierarchy
of chronology, i.e.:)
b b
n n n n n n
a a
(second anomaly)
c c c c c c c c c
i i i i i i
2nd attempt:
to showcase a "cloud":
**** it... copy &
paste, and stop pretending
bashing the mole
popping out from
a hole...
this isn't quantum
mechanics...
s f
c m c o o i s f s
r r y e c e i s i e
l o e s v
r s v s o n e o s s
e u n c i n t t e l l m c b
b m n o t t o t a a c n c e c o t o c
i n u e e i
****... i made another mistake:
how much does it take
to not make a mistake...
turning the picky-of-attempting
random...
of merely rearranging
letters in a simple sentence
to "resemble" a cloud
of... letters... atoms...
there was a time when staring
at the blank of a laptop screen,
and listening
to something by
nine inch nails was fun...
in the immediate
intermediate spent of 15 minutes...
the depth of idiocy reached
the depth of what
has become the suspect
total of man... me missing,
of course...
nothing new:
i guess i discovered the origin
of geometry...
or:
|
|
|
|
|
|_|||||||||
and
||||||||||
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
||||||||||
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
||||||||||
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
||||||||||
like some mongolian
****** pretending
to play the harmonica
by moving his
index against
a blurr of flapping lips...
me... throwing matchsticks
against an index
of a brick wall
of pixel...
namely?
i could never be a serious
existentialist,
i was sort of fwench in...
give me a cat,
i'll pet it,
i'm no good with goldfish:
i forgot that
you need to change
the water...
because water is like
air with fish...
fish turn old, stale water...
into a medium unbreathable...
no...
that death wasn't traumatic...
and the fact that i am still
naive squat buck tooth
is...
when fate gives
you the same lesson
thrice...
and you still haven't learned
it...
i guess that's when
a god begins to cry...
or laughs...
or becomes angry...
or whatever the gods do
along with what
the petty people,
the petty ambitious people
minded...
to have no role beside
the role they served their ambitions
in fulfilling...
i.e.: never made it to Hollywood...
just to a position of
lawyer...
**** me... about time i started
playing the ******,
given the "ulterior" motive
narrative "went missing"...
funny thing that,
geometry...
i almost forgot how much of it
is necessary to
orientated myself
on the linear platitude...
but how funny in how i can't
rearrange
a simple sentence
into a cloud of "random"
letters...
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||_|
obviously "you" kept count...
9
and 11/
maybe that's something related
to spacing...
and whatever became A.I.
was never indented
for what once was... handwriting?
strain on the ******* eyes,
for all i know:
this be a vanity project
and something that can't
compete with tabloid journalism
making it to print...
so... airy-fairy whims and...
yes, the burden of the echo,
and the shadow...
came the answer:
profane:
and he was educated
by the school of life...
sure...
but my time at both school
and university?
was spent being self-taught...
beginning with
this lounge of a tongue...
you know?
you can write ENGLISH
like so: ĘGLIŠ?
somehow...
i have no heard of dyslexia
as being evident in any tongue
other than the ĘGLIŠ zunge?
**** it: postcards from
H'america and from
Oh'stray-bullet-trails...
now i know why such
*******...
i'm completely enthralled
by the engineering
of A.I. and phonetics...
given: English speakers
would not have involved
their A.I. algorithms
to be affected by diacritical
markers...
given that... d'uh...
the english language
doesn't use them...
still... "cyberpunk"...
no... i have no ambitions
to be published
by the poetryfoundation.org
as i am, just about
to "compete" with
something akin
to the unauthorized
autobiography of jung ****...
jockey... Jack...
ū.3708/?
ah ha ha! ja! gustav...
bad joke...
but you get the idea...
so when did soy boy
predate bleach boy:
last time i heard or seen:
best bleach afro curls...
and call them: churros...
but ******* a black girl
doesn't exactly make me less
of a racist than
a bigot who minds tongues...
am i?
so... that whole Malcolm X
tirade of...
you know the one...
on the odd occassion...
yeah... two...
(not at the same time)...
but was that ever to be an excuse?
something from being fed
video footage and then
having to resort to:
music, before i open up
a parachute standing up
and still think i'm falling...
often or not...
or not...
hell... this beats scribbling
graffiti on walls,
or becoming a sensible
quality proof for...
the jobs of worth already
being taken...
and i almost pray for
the work of ******* collector
vacancies to be
advertised for the unemployed...
i'd love for the unemployed
to be subject
to advertisements
akin to the jobs
of a ******* collector...
i've looked...
no ******* collector
vacancies available...
oh hell...
i forgot about wanting to
be a veterinary physician a long
time ago...
but i guess:
no chances for me being
a ******* ******* collector...
so 'ere...
eat this.
