To some it’s all conjectural,
Philosophically conceptual.
You think you’re intellectual
But your reasoning is ineffectual.
Reviled both by heterosexuals
Insulted as well by homosexuals
And some ugly issues contractual
We are the besmirched bisexuals.

While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.

The straights tell us we must decide
Then put the other gender aside.
The complaints range far and wide
Even gay people opt to deride.
We don’t feel welcomed anywhere inside.
Why doesn’t tolerance coincide
When nobody seems to take our side?
It’s freedom, get on the bus and ride.

While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.

We know, after years of research
Gender choice is not learned in church.
It can be shaped with rods of birch
But those are better for birds to perch.
Denying us freedom is an ugly lurch
Past including truth in a morality search.
Back to when we were ruled by a church
And any variance was besmirched.

While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.

CONJECTURL AMBIT

      
The earliest thought- I was a blind rock: mineral feeling of an uncut idol, my pressed wings induce a false sleep. I don't trust me as part of a building because my frozen nerves are still related to ****** business and my stability depends on old things' roots. Like a snail in the memory's spiral I make slow circles in a Levantine tower, living places are overlapping to form an upright native land, a growing mirror with all my moments in a wintery evangelical succession, annular heads raising from a well where peoples' liquid mind mix. I can hardly bear it, wearing fancy clothes I try to cover the mythological Meat, the inhuman side of the flesh, the anatomic stains. Drinking tea I clean my conscience, oh, lovely furniture and fine art objects, do you realize that I'm completely happy in your  abstract presence? Do you realize that you keep my eternity in precious fragile eggs? You bloom at the end of the matter, you touch the other sky, the brown heavy sky polished by silvery cats-indefinite slippery  ideas about beauty, the intimate effort of a deeply ploughed woman in order to cicatrize herself. The meadow's malachite door is open, I can see the primary glaucos mass of terrible friends, butterfly marrow, the  viscous veins of raw angels, my negative steps under the ruined house, our unforgettable bodies swimming in the magma. So, I'm a resting beast   between fish and bird, nothing is totally seen or totally heard, this light Protection, the transparent humanism is the only glamour of the organism

his breath washed against me
like the sea into a pier
in the brown gloom of his basement apartment-
the greenness of our unemployed summer days
halted by Arsenault's phone call

those deep azure ripples in the mohawk river
tinged with creamy moonlight
brought this life to the shore
here we go lie down, lie down-
a conjectural pernicious crimson tide

we wore black as midnight
like still, ominous birds
shrouded, our eyes a profligate deluge,
the cemetery inundated with pink brio
and the ****** yellows of inexpedient sunshine

“I broke with the virtuality yesternight”.

Your hands as numb as the winter of some unreached epoch;
as traumatised as the rays of this moon—
borrowed and leaden.

Diddering by the cold morrows of life,
your soul is already downfallen,
out of the blue,
by this last good-bye.

You are through the endless seasons of fall,
with no spring foreseen,
your spirit at stake;
your fall, an eventual doom.

Your eyes are drowning in the ocean of death,
where even in the best of the boards, you're wrecked.

While, I stand as stiff as mountains,
with the same impoverished gesture of last adieu;
concieted by the delight of pain bequeathed to you.

You are the object of my empirical yet conjectural fortune—
that, I poetise now.

In your heart, broken, lies my dwelling destroyed,
and I would soon find myself mislaid or a doomed grave.

Am I winning?
Have I won?
Am I living?
Yes, I am.
Am I living?
Yes, I am
Have I lived?
Yes I have

Lo, and be hold
beholden’ on

this is the future, my future, your now,
you may change what comes next,

but my bit of this idea was thought
some time ago.

----
say stretch, tendere, eh, say stretch
yo’ sorry ol’ attent-attention

three sibling boys march past me
counting cadence, 30 per
hup two three

--- why is this so easy to see
as real in any
boy I ever knew, the boy who leads
is 12, the sarge is 8, pfc is 5,

War, The idea of war, itself, an imagined
anthropomorph

in many fantasy experiences, in tranced
story-wise, tuned to the game
as to life, these see war as game theory,

rage from another age
lurks among the liars, there flattened
on the inner edge of the wall they wished
to form from fear and hate idea viruses.

Yes, Seth’s original strain, pure conjectural
objects orienting precepticons…

Can you see me now?
Am I living?
Yes, I am.

Ecce **** Augmento.
Yah. You may say… whoso ever
or who so
ever or whosoever makes peace
appear

as here, at this point, in time
we think of as then and now, you know.

Wake up, take your watch.

some conjectural nonsense on a day
where she is working late
and I'm listening to her playlist
since we are, I mean I'm nearly positive
I am, therefore,
there can be no zero,
I got to looking at mathematical
conundrums, why?
your guess is good as mine.
What is 0 divided by zero, the question
pondered.
I looked through all the differing opinions and listening
to a favorite love song of ours,
recalling in all the detail
our fantastic times together,
the meals together, no one else
around a snuggle on the couch watching Netflix,
(where every movie has Morgan Freeman in it)
the calm contentment of nothing else
to prove nothing left to need, I had
her here,
and some argued 0/0
was one others said it was
undefinable a few said it was infinity,
and before I knew it,
It was seven o'clock and she was going home,
texted me that.
And I played real quick
a song we danced to way back when
last year, November it was
and I had her in my arms for real.


And,
I decided....there ain't no zero.

Surrendering to a folly worse than evisceration, apologetic Germans pay for premisal crimes of ancestral bureaucrats...o tal vez: Germans embrace criminal Arabs who search for ermine women to disgrace. Given to folly worse than evisceration, apologetic Germans pay for conjectural crimes that haunt long-dead politicians. Homogenization & assimilation = miscegenation which destroys diversity because: spooning leads to swooning as forking leads to corking while: each Christus Mass we celebrate the sacrifices of Jesús (God's son) with fir trees in glitter; roasted fowl denuded of innards & stuffed with stale bread, chestnuts, celery & shell fish. Our children are ingratiated with baubles by the ancestors of the ancestresses who were mistresses of fathers who afforded them wifely status. These celebratory 12 days grant living men opportunities to exhume & inhume harlots; to replenish larder stock; to avenge treachery. Earthen waters slake thirst while the 3,000-mile-wide sun remands darkling. Who is a Jew? Jews populate each of the 4 anthropological designations (races). Self-proclaimed/self-anointed Jews know little of the Tora, the Talmud, & the crickets & the locusts that are Kosher under the Kashrut.

Life-- a word that a thousand meanings does bear
the choice is yours, everyone's, let's share:

fundamental
elemental
experimental
accidental
incidental
­intentional
causal
conjectural
possible
conditional
traditional
c­onventional
controversial
suppositional
developmental
mental
physical
moral
durable
curable
deplorable
m­easurable
disputable
fragmental
tribal
fictional
factional
frictional
divisional
vital
pivotal
trivial
philosophical
nonsensical
centripetal
centrifugal
divisi­onal
oppositional

I should allow fellow-writers to continue
that means everyone of you.

Theoretical, conceptual,
notional, philosophical,
hypothetical, speculative,
conjectural, conjectured,
suppositional, putative;
indefinite, abstract, vague.

On the mystical island of

N  E  V  E  R  L  A  N  D