the monopoly of the kitchen,
a slavic shrine, unlike the stale
civil room, the room congregational
with the remnant familial ties,
with T'eh F'ou... do zee chill chill
church goer's salute! V.
two old farts (reminiscent of:
kindly put), the colt will have no
monopoly over the kitchen,
even if he write a Milton epic...
because the gracious old,
in the age of botox pristine,
would like an open botox casket,
rather than playing the loon
zombified by painkillers an
sleeping pills... might I add,
an Odyssey I took to aged 21...
never the subjective in the pronoun,
but the anonymous...
didn't mama teach you that?
the drinker will not be kingpin
of the kitchen sitting by a shy light
drinking in 25ml measures...
not at Ypres the gong at 10pm
and the death toll read
rather than the returning march...
sneaking for a 100's in the dark,
muse comes along,
the cigarette 2/3 finished,
the scissors come out,
the cigarette is chopped off
like only Anne Bouleine might
only fathom, had she known
the flight of the blade,
if the executioner didn't take off his
mud-clot-shoe-cladding-echoes...
rummaging chess
before the sword's bow...
Omicron in past tense:
as if he feared its term being passed,
non-reliquary.
- and never the thesaurus,
but a word in the back of my mind...
the violin Welsh longbowmenschool...
fidgety half-burnt-out genius
of Amsterdam,
and the con artist 4 if not 5 years apart,
tour of the underbelly,
the last electrocution
of bio fibre before the exhausted
breath of the Spanish enigma
known in M'eh-he-he-co as
veinte-dos gramos...
just a whiff of university...
the rest becomes a middle ground
for cubicle / cela klasztorna / an IT kennel...
and the other bit includes
remains of skeletal thinning bits,
namely shadows...
eagerly the sun rose,
by noon the shadow was defeated,
by afternoon the sun became dazzled
by its own slothful outpouring
of bleeding a subtle rainbow...
while at set,
came night, and man's thought...
so came the 7th day of genesis...
while god rested,
the unpredictability and gamble
of res replica...
as god rested, came the spawn
of god's rest / "non-existence": man's thought...
ADAM less shamed by nakedness...
as Bukowski said:
the intelligent are full of doubts,
while the stupid are full of ardour...
but by mere thought...
a mobile body,
but an immobile self, later soul..
genesis binary,
not 1 0 1 0 1.... but Iota Omicron
day 6 day 7 day 6 day 7...
towed the bleeding bull
before the silent court of stubborn
heirchs of woollen clothed
wolves in dog-collar ecclesiastic
widzi-mi-sie-bzdet...
third limb disposable "extra"...
tell of that arm cameo to an
amputee...
shadow boxing...
nerve endings scalping sheep
past sheering...
then turning snout cartilage
into base for lentil broth;
twice more, making béchamel
sauce... extra nutmeg, um yum.
