'Tis easier to look at a mirror
Than to dare introspect,
As the reflection subdues
The deceit buried in a tangled web of lies.
As the light dances on ripples in the water,
The shimmer it casts
To a void that is our souls.
There's darkness all around,
In our hearts and in our minds.
And in times like these
When our thirst is quenched with only more fire,
Our thoughts become inked in red,
Reminded of the weakness of our fortitudes,
And the shallowness of our words,
Let alone be our deeds.

The story of how a good man goes to war,
Lost to the morals of an unsound mind,
Resounds like a thunder in the midst of nowhere.
And as he raised his hand
And plunged a knife
Into the very heart of another his kind,
There he lost himself to the deafening screams of mankind.

And we find ourselves without voices
Drowning in a sea full of tears.
There is ONLY us,
THIS is all us...
OUR tragedies
OUR failures
OUR deeds.
We let ourselves fall,
**Even before the walls came tumbling down.

Calling Kettles

                  'Come little children
            The night is for you to play
            Thy zeitgeist of tomorrow
                  Is thee spell for today'


                  Kettle Late Brewing
                   Petal Fate Stewing
                      Flora & Fauna
                  We Calling To You


               Harvesters With Scythe

                     Reap, Sow, Rise


                      Glory Of Rule
             Compassionate Or Cruel
                Dionysus and Gordius
                    Be Calling To You

              Choose, Midas, Choose

                  Green Flame Burn
                   For All You Yearn
                    Grab Our Kettle
                 To Test Your Mettle
                 Dire Desire Within
                   We Beseech You
              

              Torture He Adores You
                              In
               Dungeon de' grimace
                (In) Fortitudes Feast
             (We) Replete the Fittest
          (Go) And Challenge Our Rule

                    Fall, Harlot, Fall

                Under The Sun of Rot
                     Thy Within Skin
            Grace Our Markets In Soul
                 Grace Here Is Cheap
                  Fresh Souls To Reap
        
                  Rise, Harvest, Rise

             Thy Blessings Churning
              In Yesterday's Learning
                All Things Crawling
                 Filthy & Squirming
                    In Turning Fruit
           Plucked In Your Yearning
         Our Kettles Be Calling To You
         Our Kettles Be Calling To You'

Glaciers withered within me, evaporating
into clouds of despair. I collect within a dispersal
of all that was cloudless, but now I'm slowly
reseeding within a squall of sorrows,
              withered emotions now on the cusp
of what is darkening the skies of my fortitude.

But they say every cloud has that glimmer of hope,
                        a silver lining of reflection within.
That discoloured allure faded before it began.
And now all that I'm consumed by,
              is shades of ashen contemplations.

Static discharges of emotions collide in
turbulent clashes, as words shatter
pine trees of fortitudes, splintering hearts.
Echoing from within,
                         glancing the air in discord.
Precipitation finally collapsing below.

After every storm there is a moment clarity,
where tears fell and emotions disfigured
                                another's calm ground.
Remember that when the clouds are gone
that the illumination of emotions will
shine though, and once again there is calm.

We built cities with shattered glass
Grand scrapers that reached past the clouds
Carpenters of modern day Rome
And warriors of worlds unrenowned

It was an empire of future centuries
A city that grew to the sky
We had taken the land before us
Had taken it in great strides

The world only knew of our legends
They fought to become just like ours
But crumbled were the moral fortitudes
That harrowed our own laws

We are destroyed by the things we create
Greed would demolish us all
The empire comes crashing down
Down from the sky it evolved

slight rain, you could say
drizzle, soft. a gentle day.

opening new ground. sand
underfoot reminds of
younger days. toast
also a comfort in
an age of other things.

pattern of tiny souls,
searching just for crumbs,
patterning a place to lodge
in life.

slight rain brought out
the coloured coats,
talk of tides and fortitudes.

opening new ground.

the church was closed.

sbm.

but each day: i can conquer with myself
and experience the day
the rest of the world
the res extensa world
with pitfalls of schizophrenia
and the lackey bilingual
lead me AI
to where we talked:
i am making digital 21st century notes
and there's no museum to house
these artefacts
i'll be moving to Hawaii and i'm
letting people know
that is that
and that i have been to New York
and didn't find Whitman
or Lorca
but i found the Polish Embassy
and i found the Chelsea Hotel
and i was the Little Polishman in New York
without a sting
i was a ****** in New York
i was no longer a ****** in London
and i'd give New York a second chance
if i had more money
but i had all the money in the world
i just didn't see new york in the night
big cities
require you to see the daytime
and the nighttime
the real city awakes after night
during the day you say you saw
new york
but you didn't:
i baby... i saw the new york you
want me to glitz with
i saw the 1970s grit
i was there smoking
i was there i don't see
the mirror of a Night Manhattan:
a Night Manhattan is a cocktail:
sparrows and the fox come...
for the children... let the children believe
let me tell you
i left one glass of wine on the table
like the Catholic i am...
i left one cup of wine on the table
on the table:
me! me! me! drink it!
i'll have come water
from the camel's spit please
across the deserts and fortitudes of seas
i came to find all the men
and i brought all the men together
and where they feast at the birth
with a homelessman at the table
comes
the dinner table
clean like a ghost
because a ghost i see
and then comes the body
or is that in reserve?
upon the resurrection
which is why this moment in time
is so splen did
from the clock orientation time:
i drift into dream...

rememeber:
the world will only allow so much of it
before you adventure
into Egypt
and the Cities Cairo and Alexandria
like England drifting parallel
to other islands
i say New York is like Alexandria
the cosmopolitan adventurer
while the stalemate last in London
and Cairo
i was thinking about the underground
and in my head
i degraded New York's
and took to the war of the rats
in Moscow and London
i had no questions asked
in Paris-Berlin-Warsaw...

  i took the route to New York
via the trains
from London: to London: flying over
Paris Berlin Warsaw
PBW...
no sooner will this reality fade
and that drink of water will be
a reward unto Isah...
and the two brothers and the right of birth
some biological ancient arithmetic..

i can keep my demons
but first the cats of the household have
to fall asleep:
i'm rereading Dada poetry and
i'm thinking it wouldn't be easier
rereading Ulysses
instead tackling Proust
and i can't say i'm a pampered fool
but like ****** and KIETSCH
or is tht KIEV i postpone
i'm thinking of going elsewhere
because another drink will not solve
this debacle
when i was falling asleep
about the classical .fm top 300
and that's a 3 x 3 300
i'm thinking the three word clue
the road beyond the word
and that is a crown bite the bullet and cravat
i ask in time-spatial of myself
but in time-temporal i do find
journalistic cannibalism abhorring
and that's the critique of the English The Time
versus the Thrusday edition
of the New York Times...
and i love American liberalism...
it's classical liberalism
it is conservative-liberalism...
it is water i drank from under the pillow
of what *** is given me a chance
perhaps i faded away after the resurrection
and settled down an happily lived a life
according to Joseph the Parrot Merchant
of Death:             Mary the ******
the Widower Joseph...
Christ: whoever gets past the Age 33.

one hour until curfew
so the girl plays the games hard
and into the night
trying to figure you out
and this teenage girl is figuring you
out and
i think that's the darkness
and the light and the arch of kingship
i behold when
i deem such days hailed
unto Ave Spri FONZ...
    AVE VER!
                       perhaps the words you utter
when you can stroke a cat and shyly
ask the night to say for you what you
think: res cogitans trapped in the res extensa
and finding the pre deus cogito
only later so many people come
with their cogito deus pro
these words my god said so
my other words said
these words my god said so
religion is like politics
is a game of child and a game of
play
rather than a game of solve
play isn't solve
although like the English definite article
play is the indefinite article
where: solve is the definite article
and all this in the arithmetic of Descartes
it is geometry in motion
a playbox of sorts
i'm working on it
with my daughter
i am alligning minds
she is insomniac and i have bubbles
in my face...
a sinner i ate too much bortsch too much
all that fermenting rhye rye is giving me
the farts
and it's agony of the farts
need to dilute said food with *****
alas no *****
just some cider
enough cider i think trebble that
into us alone you
no longer reading self-help books about
raising a child
i'm wishing for the day
when you stop reading self-help books about
raising a child
have but one child in your existence
and that being your
ego before the altars of cogito sonos deus and algos
and i don't know but it was easier
to take the blood and count a meter
in stride
if i could just escape that thought
that as much a child of progeny
in my mind and in your mind
there became a curation of the womb
as St Basillica...
           i do wonder how much
German i could extract from the translation
of Master and Margarita i think
i will send her
a copy of MAster and Margerita
in English and in German
why just stop at one language
find which language is easier
perhaps you need to branch out into German
rather than parrot Spanish...
i should know
because i should have been taught German
in my high school rather than French
or Spanish: perhaps...
but this one song is on repeat
and i just remember falling asleep last night
thinking about:
so when we get to the speed of gravity:
what is the mechanism of slowing
down to our speed...
oh shitQ! what is our speed...
if we get to the speed of light
how do we get back to the speed
we're currently speeding on?
is it the speed of light?
is it the speed of... what?! the **** are we talking
about when talking about the speed
of light?!
and what are we talking about speed
right now?!
we get to the speed of light
and then what?
where is the break?! the break! the ******* break!
how do we get back into orbit with Earth
and at what speed is Earth at
relative or not ******* relative
to the speed of light?!

- and that's Ola Gjeilo: Gorrilaz: Night
on repeat.. first song...
and i think about Liszt and Chopin
the virtuosos trying to escape the mind
of the composer
like Wager the Chopin waging war
against the composers...
but then in the age of diminished mathematics
in symphony
from Bach
think about the Virtuosos
of the Piano then think of either Satie or Debussy
and they were the rhythm pianists
while you had the soloist pianists like Liszt etc
and that's like almost a rock band
but instead of a drummer
you would have... the brass
the jazz perhaps the strings of violins
or the woodwinds

cello cello chee...
   the long and a' winding road from rubber bicycle
wheels to hoofs to something magical
if you still have it
like a saddled carpet with a camel's grin
because the curfew is still
coming to one hour prior
and i'm already in bed
brushed up
and just wanting to talk
*** isn't a routine
sometimes we have it sometimes
i don't know: we talk about it
bombard each other with sextxts
in our mind of the sharing of the potency of the dualistic
***: and all opposites:
two individuals sharing a commonality
where at least polar opposites can grow
apart and apart together
merge and dwindle sort of coexist
a sharing of the banality of seeing infinites
when the finite might suffice...