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“The Silicon Tower of Babel”
The over utilization of technology, its abuse, is unweaving humanity at the seams. Human health, sanity, and spirituality are under attack. The boom of accessibility over technology has increasingly subtracted from the frequency of face to face human interaction as well as human interaction with nature. The result is a declining emotional and psychological health and a ******* of spiritual values. Each individual who values holistic health should limit the time he or she spends using technology that isolates them to less than twenty-four hours in a week. They should make more purposeful efforts toward interacting with nature daily and for periods of at least an hour at a time. Lastly, these individuals should labor to replace reclusive technologies with modes of technology that encourage face to face and group social interaction such as movies, Skype, etc.
Self-limitation of the use of isolating technology will begin to correct the twisting of our spiritual values and the social and physiological damage that has been caused by the overuse and abuse of technology. In James T. Bradley’s review of Joel Garreau’s book discussion of radical evolution, called “Odysseans of the twenty first century”, Bradley quotes Garreau when he says that technology will result in human transcendence. In “Odysseans” it is said that “The nature of transcendence will depend upon the character of that which is being transcended—that is, human nature.”  James. T Bradley, scholar and author of this peer reviewed journal says that “When we’re talking about transhumanism, we’re talking about transcending human nature. . .  One notion of transcendence is that you touch the face of God. Another version of transcendence is that you become God.”  This is a very blatant ******* of the roles of God and man. When the created believes it can attain the greatness of its creator, and reach excellence and greatness on par with its God, it has completely reversed the essence of spirituality. This results in the ability to justify the “moral evolution of humankind” according to Odysseans. And this “moral evolution” often results in “holy wars”. In “Man in the age of technology” by Umberto Galimberti of Milan, Italy, written for the Journal of Analytical Psychology in 2009, technology is revealed to be “no longer merely a tool for man’s use but the environment in which man undergoes modifications.” Man is no longer using technology. Man is no longer affecting and manipulating technology to subdue our environments. Technology is using, affecting, and manipulating the populace; it is subduing humankind into an altered psychological and spiritual state.
Technology, in a sense, becomes the spirituality or the populace. It replaces nature and the pure, technologically undefiled creation as the medium by which the common man attempts to reach the creator. The common man begins to believe in himself as the effector of his Godliness. Here there is logical disconnect. People come to believe that what they create can connect them to the being that created nature. They put aside nature and forget that it is an extension of the artist that created it. Technology removes man from nature (which would otherwise force an undeniable belief in a creator) and becomes a spiritual bypass. “According to “The Only Way Out Is Through: The Peril of Spiritual Bypass” by Cashwell, Bentley, and Yarborough, in a January 2007 issue of Counseling and Values, a scholarly and peer reviewed psychology journal, “Spiritual bypass occurs when a person attempts to heal psychological wounds at the spiritual level only and avoids the important (albeit often difficult and painful) work at the other levels, including the cognitive, physical, emotional, and interpersonal. When this occurs, spiritual practice is not integrated into the practical realm of the psyche and, as a result, personal development is less sophisticated than the spiritual practice (Welwood, 2000). Although researchers have not yet determined the prevalence of spiritual bypass, it is considered to be a common problem among those pursuing a spiritual path (Cashwell, Myers, & Shurts, 2004; Welwood, 1983). Common problems emerging from spiritual bypass include compulsive goodness, repression of undesirable or painful emotions, spiritual narcissism, extreme external locus of control, spiritual obsession or addiction, blind faith in charismatic leaders, abdication of personal responsibility, and social isolation.”  Reverting back to frequent indulgence in nature can begin to remedy these detrimental spiritual, social, and physiological effects.  If people as individuals would choose to daily spend at least an hour alone in nature, they would be healthier individuals overall.
  Technology is often viewed as social because of its informative qualities, but this is not the case when technologies make the message itself, and not the person behind the message, the focus.  To be information oriented is to forsake or inhibit social interaction.  Overuse of technology is less of an issue to human health if it is being overused in its truly social forms. Truly social forms of technology such as Skype and movies viewed in public and group settings are beneficial to societal and personal health. According to a peer-reviewed study conducted by John B. Nezlek, the amount and quality of one’s social interactions has a direct relationship to how positively one feels about one’s self. Individual happiness is supported by social activity.
Abuse of technology is a problem because it results in spiritual *******.  It points humanity toward believing that it can, by its own power, become like God.  Abuse of technology inclines humanity to believe that human thoughts are just as high as the thoughts of God. It is the silicon equivalent of the Tower of Babel.  It builds humanity up unto itself to become idols. In extreme cases overuse of technology may lead to such megalomania that some of humanity may come to believe that humanity is God.  Technology is a spiritual bypass, a cop-out to dealing with human inability and depravity. The misuse of technology results in emotional and psychological damage. It desensitizes and untethers the mind from the self. It causes identity crises. Corruption of technology from its innately neutral state into something that negatively affects the human race results in hollow social interactions, reclusion, inappropriate social responses, and inability to understand social dynamics efficiently.
It may appear to some that technology cannot be the cause of a large-scale social interrupt because technology is largely social. However, the nature of technology as a whole is primarily two things: It is informational; it is for use of entertainment. Informational technology changes the focus of interaction from the messenger to the message. Entertainment technology is, as a majority, of a reclusive nature.
Readers may be inclined to believe that nature is not foundational to spirituality and has little effect on one’s spiritual journey, it is best to look through history. Religions since the beginning of time have either focused on nature or incorporated nature into their beliefs. Animists believe that everything in nature has a spirit. Native American Indians like the Cherokee believe that nature is to be used but respected. They believe that nature is a gift from the Great Spirit; that earth is the source of life and all life owes respect to the earth. Christians believe that it is the handiwork of God, and a gift, to be subdued and used to support the growth and multiplication, the prosperity and abundance of the human race.
In a society that has lost touch with its natural surroundings it is sure that some believe that nature has little effect on health, as plenty of people live lives surrounded by cities and skyscrapers, never to set foot in a forest or on red clay and claim perfect health. However, even in the states of the least contact possible with nature, nature has an effect on human health. The amount of sunlight one is exposed to is a direct factor in the production of vitamin D. Vitamin D deficiency has been determined to be linked to an increased likelihood of contracting heart disease, and is a dominant factor in the onset of clinical depression. Nature has such a drastic effect on human health that the lack of changing season and sunlight can drive individuals to not only depression, but also suicide. This is demonstrated clearly when Alaska residents, who spend half a year at a time with little to no sunlight demonstrate a rate of suicide and clinical depression diagnoses remarkably higher than the national average.
Dependence on technology is engrained in our society, and to some the proposed solution may not seem feasible. They find the idea of so drastically limiting technology use imposing. They do not feel that they can occupy their time instead with a daily hour of indulgence in nature. For these individuals, try limiting isolating technology use to 72 hours a week, and indulging in nature only three times a week for thirty minutes. Feel free to choose reclusive technology over social technologies sometimes, but do not let technology dominate your life. Make conscious efforts to engage in regular social interactions for extended periods of time instead of playing Skyrim or Minecraft. Watch a movie with your family or Skype your friends. Use technology responsibly.
To remedy the effects of the abuse of technology and the isolations of humanity from nature, individuals should limit their reclusive technology use to 24 hours in a week’s time, indulge in nature for an hour daily, and choose to prefer truly social technologies over reclusive technologies as often as possible. In doing so, individuals will foster their own holistic health. They will build and strengthen face-to-face relationships. They will, untwist, reconstruct and rejuvenate their spirituality. They will be less likely to contract emotional or social disorders and will treat those they may already struggle with.  So seek your own health and wellbeing. Live long and prosper.
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
See those red windows by Midland Park
Where the schoolyard stands empty in the frozen dark
See that Neon motor in 21st gear
And the only question is "why are we here?"
In memory motel with unchanging rates
I still see the Moon Glow in your face

By the edge of the stream with bread in hand
Two doves chase the wind to a foreign land
As our voices are carried to a teenage past
In naïve reclusion we knew couldn't last
With a palette of hate I still can taste
I still see the Moon Glow in your face

Weathered storms on a Parisian stage
The book can't be written unless you turn every page
On a worn out, de-facto, company car
The diamonds will promise to make you a star
In sovereign rule of my mind's estate
I still see the Moon Glow on your face

On Ebony's wings coming down from the sky
Miracle rides close behind
The waves from Mexico have long since passed
No moment is forever and it won't be the last
With ocean eyes and a passioned embrace
I still see the Moon Glow in your face
David May 2013
I am the bone man,
That's what they call me,
Can you touch the dead like me?
My closets are full,
With skeletons we dance,
A candlelight trance for me,
I collect my bounties under moonlight,
No sight for sore eyes on the horizon,
Guns in hand,
Cold steel for the warm ones out tonight,
I've done this for five years in my Ford Falcon,
That's the only thing he left behind for me...
I've had no other choice than running,
My fear of self engulfs all things,
I have no room to be afraid of any other,
I am the bone man,
That's what they call me,
Can you touch the dead like me?
My closets are full,
With skeletons we dance,
A candlelight trance for me,
Maybe I'll dance five years more
Muggle Ginger Dec 2015
1.     I really tried
2. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough
3. Why did I always think everything was about me?
4. You were my angel
5. My demons were too strong
6. I never look people in the eyes because I'm afraid they'll see through my windows and see that there's not light inside
They'll see my secret pain
The monsters gain
Persuasion in the argument
If I should live or die
7. The mask wasn’t supposed to stay on forever but people seemed to like it better than my sadness and sadness doesn’t always cooperate with my plans. Like sometimes sadness just wants to stretch his legs across my face leaving traces that look like tired eyes and furrowed brows. Sadness, like water, will take the path of least resistance from the world to heart and back. Self-endulgend, sadness begs for hosts without every bothering to host the party because sadness doesn’t mind if he overstays his welcome.
8. I was 17 when he died, it has been eight years
9. If I can't win the fight to stay
If I lose and go my way
I have to believe things will be OK
Because your grief won't come
From the fact that I am gone
Maybe you'll think about what
We could have done to better get along
10. You won’t often think of me
So let me go, let me be free
Your mind is the sun
Confidence and clean
11. My mind is a terror
That doesn't deal in dream
In years to come, perhaps
You think of us
A memory we shared
12. I wish I let you in and feel a connection
Isolationist tendencies are decidedly not the best strategy
So my island is a prison
Not a blessed reclusion from the judgments of my mental illness
I'm simply in denial to any sickness at all
J T Gaut May 2012
I felt the world rejecting me- quite literally.
I feel the stars and black stare racing towards me
Cold, icy, boiling space. Vertigo and G’s
Dazed and confused, love in a dugout
Static movement erupted by the oddman out
Electric dogs and burning books
For the man who leaves the party to do nothing
Or is it?
L T Winter Sep 2014
There was a man.

Lying face down,
In his ocean of rain-
A reclusion of self...


Sharp with shells
Piercing permeable
Sonnets--


Thistle to speech
Embedded paving's
Of lavender bunkers.

Exude this chalice
For my chandelier
Made tome-stone--


Cemeteries bequeath.
Are you truly that thoughtless?
Or quite simple, just the same?
Can’t you see the blatantly undeniable?
Recurrent actions in centuries passed?

In your hollowed, tenebrous whole
Manifestation of isolation
Is there not a more evident proof
You’re a pillar of others’ melancholy
For your awful reclusion and great lack of communication...
Onoma Nov 2013
Where the church bell gapes
at its golden discs gain the airy steep.
Where the eagle deposits its
majestic soar, a mass of feather and
talon--Empyrean's doormat.
Where Icarus stroked wax wing
through the sepia ambiance of his
mind.
Where the hermit broke 'neath after
decade of reclusion.
Where star discloseth foci to
dime the dead of space.
Where striven peace's tangled root
whistles extolling.
Where an aerodynamic corpus
unsheathed horizon, parting palpebras....
surging the seen, unseen.
All's apparent aqua blue, transparent
*****, outspread portent pregnant of
blessing.
O sky--every soul's once-over,
immaculate conceptions...ex nihilo.
CH Gorrie Oct 2014
"Where literature is concerned,
I will not cooperate at all":
A mind resolutely turned
From the social crusades of fall.

Seventy-eight years later
I agree with the "dilettante";
Twenty-five years cater
To reclusion in a shanty,

"Writing frightening verse
To a straight-toothed dude
In New York." Curse
My reckless solitude!
Martin Narrod Mar 2015
Take me up. Let the devil take me up, like the morning when we left ourselves. The ides are upon our lives, maybe backstabbing partners really won't pay the bills. The irreverent god, the irrelevant clause that speaks too soon, comes upon the midnight waning sky. Like the moonful of ham in the stock of the flesh, second helpings because I could not resist.

Pick me up. Pick me up. Like a devil born again in the flesh. Your womb is a rotten tomb of forced reclusion, I'm wide awake before I can even sleep. The Time, our heaven is pyre, we're in it now like you thought it had been. But the flesh never whispers when I tried to break it in, it only clung to me like pre-used clothing.

Write it up, tomorrow we make Japan. Tomorrow, the island is our vesper. Your nine lives have come, and you'd decided to trade all of your needs to please me. We intertwined into an elusive butterfly, you're dead inside my beak, chewy, squishy, crunchy meat. You're eleven but you've never tasted better.

Your lies are so stupid, I had to have you in supine. I had to lie to myself to placate me. I survived by being a witness to a life. A dusky, grayish shadow four feet yonder.
SassyJ Jul 2016
A friend under the strict moonlight
The sunken lifetime street light
A tape from door steps always taps
The unheard voice of allied laps

A friend above the raised song
Whose eyes can lay in low savannahs
A conversational flow of escape traps
Words unspoken, reserved, immersed

My friend on the haunted cell phone
Whose hammock of reclusion tents
Pegs of condition,bungees of freedom
A sacrificial religious preconditions ail

My friend, a reflection of a world another
Take this winter coat I shunned
One that wakes by the sunset
As it shows me not to be afraid of the world
midnight prague Apr 2011
swim in the redness of the fruitility
that leaks itself like perched pedals
falling
exuberent/ burgundy
pale and translucent like the water in pure places
from your
wrists

tuned into the old jukebox
laughter shining things like
why wasnt I around when this was invented
right here, eyes pressed upon that sky
belittled, torn like a rag placed upon a tree of thorns
then tugged

reality breaks the seal
people put up shutters to block out the noise
they knew it wouldnt hit hard
but these animals think they are of some greater
power

its my turn, thoughts scatter like ants on the dining table
I grab my Q and gently hit the 8 ball, I remember when that man told me
to always go soft arrogance never got nobody somewhere good
I miss
was that a lie
?

perched on the stool going into reclusion in mind
what if
what if
the world was filled with nothing but
sylvia, anne, khalil, ghandi, Vincent Millay,
olds, ginsberg, abraham, lennon

what if our energies never fluctuated
in the nervous patterns that lead to the
exhaustion and you never let yourself fall
into that place we as writers promised to never
be,
driven far from complexities
tuned into conventional
inspired, but not really inspired

I bow my head farewell
smiles brought forth to my lips
as the positive is extracted
stable lives
t.v nights
no fights

redeemed when looking in the mirror
touching
your cheeks
rubbing your thumb on your lower
lip, examining all of those things that make you woman
that make you beautiful

everyone is beautiful
lovely tunic in their own way
let it be one small characteristic
one disposable action
one smile is a charity given

pride presents wistful sayings of abloshied tyranny hidden between
your gracious lovers and those 3 stars viewable from any place in the world
men with eyes full of hatred glanced upon them
children with tears in their souls

I loosened the knots of active  promiscuity drawn on the
face of the most indistinguishable and demonic paintings
hung in the highest places in my living room/ I burned the house
ambrosia dripping along my legs,
your mascara, scarred on my fingers
lipstick smeared on vintage walls fill the narrow
hallways in the bones of beasts sitting in high trees
in the alabaster forests of our dreams

laying so still, motionless
afraid to speak a word
one finger might break your skin
then eyes light
and smiles are emitted
like beautiful wedding nights
where its raining, no clouds
and a full moon

depart fruitful stances
I sit dreary in the airport
what summer love may summer bring
upon me, discreet soul
blackened tongues
long nights, made short
gags and hands thrown in the sky
kiss you
pretty
goodnight.

I walk away from the pool table, lost second time in a row
who cares, I have time to get better
maybe next time I should halt random infusions
pause my unstable mind
for a poets thoughts such things are considered
a crime
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
the day's almost finished and i'm sitting with a glass
of a whiskey and pepsi: sharpshooter...
   what's a sharpshooter? three parts whiskey
one part pepsi... that's called a sharpshooter...
by that i mean: the alcohol will not creep up on me
esp. like they serve it in bars... three parts pepsi
one part whiskey... no: better the whiskey be apparent...

and i'm rereading my first encounter with
Charles Bukowski: i remember the first time i came
across him... i was having a psychotic meltdown
back in 2007... running up and down Glasgow in
the sun... i don't know what was more mad:
me or the weather in Glasgow... usually western
Scotland is bound to perpetual rain...
                 but it was sunny that day...
                   well... i don't know how many trips
i made between London, Edinburgh and Glasgow...
running aimlessly: most probably from my shadow,
whether it was that day or the other
i booked a hotel room... i ran out of it after about
5 minutes in panic mode... leaving everything
behind, except for my wallet which i had in my trousers,
but my passport? i don't know why i had
it on me... i only got it back from the Glasgow police
station after a year or so...
                      long story: bad memories...

but i remember that first encounter with Bukowski...
what matters most is how well you walk
through the fire
: in the bookshop i stood there in awe....
because the first poem i read was,
oddly enough insanity

    sometimes there's a crazy one in the street.
    he lifts his feet carefully as he walks.
    he ponders the mystery of his own ****...

    ...sometimes there's a crazy one walking in the street.
       he slips past with a black crowd on this shoulder

obviously i had to buy that book...
back then i was buying books like mad...
i bought that book and the Brothers Karamazov...
oddly enough: i have read it...
to be frank i'm starting to suspect that i'm
pretty well read - but that doesn't surprise me:
after all, reading saved my sanity...
as much as insanity was "fun" i wanted to return
to structures...

            it's not much fun compulsively thinking
about the "secret" meaning of car registration
plates... i'm serious: in my head it was THAT bad
at one point... my entire world view disintegrated
into... a large **** on a pile of spaghetti Bolognese
looks better...

          obviously i'm... sure... i'd recommend going
mad... lucky for me: i wasn't taking to any mental hospital...
maybe that's why i was so introverted for
most of my 20s... hell... i lost all my youth to psychosis...
not all my youth: the youth where you could have
all the ****** fun... but from what i heard:
most men haven't had that sort of luxury...
   what with the advent of social media and dating apps...

but that's the great thing about marijuana (skunk,
it's different in England, the marijuana is illegal
and it's usually spiced with some ****** chemicals)
                                                       psychosis...

at first: oh my god, the greatest drug... i stopped drinking...
i waited for the weekend to smoke...
   i'd sit and write Beatnik ******* poetry...
listen to music... when the stuff was good...
a minute turned into ten minutes...
   ten minutes turned into thirty minutes...
thirty minutes turned into two hours...
literally: time stopped... that's how i came up with
the antonym of Descartes' res cogitans...
   i smoked and i lost my ego...
                it was nowhere to be found...
ergo? res vanus... an empty thing...
              i think it takes a lot of thinking to finally
conquer thought per se...
              to able to merely sense without that cloudy
overlay of thought / narrative has its bonuses...
right now? i have a clog in my head...
before i could tell you something akin to:
i can hear myself think...
    "hear": i was so engrossed in something resembling
solipsism... thought came before the senses...
that's why i missed so many opportunities
with women...

            also: i remember this remark i made...
i remember saying: i can't hear silence...
         guess what's in my head?
                that exact remark... it's almost as if i have
lost my prior "sense" of a soul...
i think i'm soulless... i think my soul has already
left my body... which makes it easier
to coordinate the body... i have this great silence
in my head...

   a moment also came when my vision sharpened...
i started seeing more clearly...

another thing about going mad early on...
oh i did see psychiatrists... i was put on antipsychotic
medication... i used to weigh in 78kg at one point...
6ft2 and 78kg? i was a lean colt...
i put on... over the years... let's say i weighed in
at 120kg at one point...
                   i might have drank back then...
i'm still drinking... but: to think that this sort of medication
doesn't have a metabolic effect would be delusional...

but like i must have already mentioned:
that's the good thing about going mad early on in life,
or rather with madness itself:
you can't go mad twice...
         what's that famous saying?
those whom the gods want to destroy: first drive them
mad...

   about 6 psychiatrists tried to figure me out...
one ******* tried to implant in me the idea of regression:
he insinuated that i was abused as a child...
false memory implants... sadistic little Indian ******...
why do i bring ethnicity into the equation?
oh... reminded of a novel by Will Self...
no: not the quantitative theory of insanity...
   that other one... Dr. Mukti...

                            they couldn't figure me out
yet they still prescribed this ****** medication...
           the medication was making it worse...
                             alcohol? makes it better...
       well... because by the 5th and 6th nutty-professor
i was already well verse in Nietzsche,
Kierkegaard, Heidegger and by the 6th Kant!
why would i need to talk **** over?
   none of them could help me with:
    oh you know, herr doktor... i encountered
a choir in a church that descended, invisible...
then... while in a panic... running around in the church
a great wind descended and dispersed the choir...
well... **** me... if marijuana can give you that
sort of auditory hallucinations:
     i'll wait until i'm dementia prone...
    then i'll go to Amsterdam and jack-up my brain
with some mushrooms... maybe i'll see "things" better...

come to think of it... back in the day it was what
it was... i was in so much distress but internalized it so well
that: i was 12 shadows behind a flimsy veneer...
but i pulled through: right now i think i have:
esp. since my reclusion sort of gave me a spring-like-elasticity...
i jumped back into extroversion with a snap
of the fingers... i was never an extrovert-extrovert:
those annoying *****...
i've learned to be more measured...

  but i pulled through: and not thanks to anyone
except for me... and... necromancy...
which is not some magic... just reading the works
of the people already dead...
    
another saying: music soothes even the savage beast...
tell that to one of my Maine *****...
go on... play her some punk... she's doing a runner...
she is a savage beast... domesticated...
but still savage...
     only recently she scratched the face of a baby...
the baby was: the baby of my mother's manicurist /
pedicurist...
    why did she scratch the baby's face?
     my mother's manicurist / pedicurist brought her
friend along... who in turn brought her son along...
annoying little ****: i was fermenting upstairs in bed
with a massive hang-over... just heard the annoying little
****...
                  
      ADHD+... literally...
            he kept annoying my cat... kept touching her too
"offensively"... she hissed... she started spitting evil eyes...
but he kept on annoying her...
   my mother apparently told him to stop...
the boy's mother stopped being a mother at that point...
he ****** off somewhere to draw, i don't know...
******* circles in the air... when the baby approached...
bam! scratches on the face...
    mind you: no problems prior... babies and animals
mingle quiet well... they did... i was there some other
times... but... all it takes is one silly little **** of a boy
to **** of a cat for the cat to rebel... like a predator...
on something that's weaker: weakest...
     it's a ******* cat... a bonsai tiger...
        
           that's why i never understood man's fascination
with predators, animal predators...
seems like their life just might be interesting...
translate that to predators within men...
            eh... blue oyster cult... something sort of eerie
itch by itch by the end it just becomes disgusting...
no argument: when it comes to the behaviour of cats...
the cat was in the right...
      the cat was in the right... the baby was simply collateral
damage: isn't that the common phrase in modern
warfare? collateral damage?

while Tony Blaire et al. are the ADHD+ **** of a boy
walking away scot free...
            
well... i gave the mother mother's manicurist so many
CDs to copy after i introduced her to Wooden Shjips...
she obviously has a new manicurist...
her friend was supposedly into Viking looking blokes...
but... i've recently saw a brutally honest
video by a woman, she admits to:
having nothing to offer a man... except for ***...
she's a single mum... all the women in my vicinity
are single mothers...

       and she's right... i work... i cook... i clean...
i can iron a shirt... blah blah... if i'm going to be second
best after she panders to her Rugrats...
what am i left with?
   it so much simpler with prostitutes...
although... the one i'm currently seeing sort of crossed
the mark... i think she's fallen for me...
she keeps sending me Selfies while i keep sending her
pictures of trees... flowers... cats... sunrises
and sunsets...

if i were to be stuck with someone like a Denise Royle...
oh **** that... ****: THAT...
     because i would be just that...
a push-over a comb-over...
        recently i watched a movie starring Lara Flynn Boyle...
a film from back in 2002...
   recent pictures? either Jack Nicholson
is the Spartan 300... i don't know...
                    i'm going to grace: if i get to old age...
probably less stressed out...
         like this one ****** i saw today...
the petulant husband... chocolates for the children,
wine for the honey-dubby-dubby-gum-bear...
he might: just get a sniff of the wine...
otherwise! WHIP!
              back on overtime come tomorrow's
Bank Holiday! ha-chi! whimp 'em boy!

existentialism never got along with Darwinism...
for what? my genes?! what about my "soul"?!
i rather find that than pass on some biological fuss
of a glue... someone else will pass something else
on... it's not like the human species will go extinct
because i haven't capitulated to reproductive
"needs"... being a grandfather with grandchildren
or... an old man and death's darling: euthanasia...
always the latter...
god bless the Benelux alliance: reasonable people...
benevolent people... sensible creatures...

****... i knew this was going to happen once i got stuck
into defrosting... "defrosting":
i was trying to get some ice for a whiskey pepsi
sharpshooter refill... a block of ice... no ice cubes...
take out the ice cube container hack at the block
of ice with a knife... fiddly procedure...
take some ice... put the excess ice on the shelf...
hello cleaned ice-cube container...

            i have lost the plot... i digressed too much...
i take it from my English teacher...
a Thomas Bunce... Glaswegian... loved his jazz and his
poetry... he always digressed...
he never taught us... not grammar: only on a must...
once... maybe twice... what did he used to call Shakespeare?
Shaky? Shaken Pear?
   he always digressed... he just told stories...
he wasn't a teacher... you might as well have
lit a ******* fire in the classroom and we'd all huddle
and listen to him ramble...

i've lost it... the day is almost over and i'm sitting
here drinking a whiskey and listening to...
my new found "hobby"... i.e. gothic post punk alternative
darkwave music... rubric!

i've always tried to escape the dichotomy of
the Cure vs. Depeche Mode...

the soft moon... oh... that band is a banger...
2013 release: from the album the soft moon...
songs like: circles,
                     parallels, we are we,
                                            sewer sickness...

there's still so much good music "floating" about...
it's just... so much harder to find...
it wasn't... back in 2016 when the internet still had
some sanity about it...

rubric! where's my rubric?!

the downward path - more than i should
give my remains to broadway - dumpster baby
c z a r i n a - wonderland
morosinthe - nihilism
love of consolation - memory
man + machine & emke - room to cry
ill humans - dramatica
dechakhal - always die
              ciern - the emperor rx
     grey gallows - chains
                       locust revival - no funeral
               two one six - heat
                   the isolators - concentrate on us
                house of breath - make sense of it all
q-7 three times - t-3
                       into her final sleep - heressence...

**** me, now that i come to think of it...
every single shift i worked at Fulham's Craven Cottage
whenever i was placed in Bishop's Park
with a women... i wasn't working...
i was on a first date...
we talked about each other...
Jeminah was the best... even though she kept
talking about her failed relationships...
but we walked into the cemetery and inspect the dates
on graves... my god... she looked so ****
back before she stabbed herself in the back
with rumours about me...

while... in my full view... started swiping left?
right? which one is rejection?
in front of me, indicating: you have no chance
mate... i have these many options... loser...
any of the others make their own wine?
bake? make dogs affectionate enough to lick
your wounds till you bleed and not feel
the pain?
               just saying: ******* pie in the sky!
mash potatoes floating in the lake...

what was i going to write?
   ****... i almost forgot... the day is almost over...
18 minute past midnight... time for closure...
i'm sitting with a whiskey + pepsi sharpshooter...
listening to some underground music...
thinking about trimming my ***** hair
because i need to see Khedra... girl's feeling anxious...

oh... right... i woke up nice an early... 8am...
looked at my phone... ****... no ingress pass for West Ham
vs. Arsenal... what's up?
so i text the manager... where's my ingress pass?
i'm pretty sure that i've booked myself in for this event...

text back... you haven't booked in, mate...

oh crap... crap and no crap: to be honest...
if i haven't booked in... i can't be late...
but i swear i booked in for this match...
the original date was the 28th of May...
that date was moved because West Ham progressed
in the Europa League... so Tuesday was them vs.
Frankfurt... i thought that if i booked in for
the original date of the match-up for the derby
i'd be automatically booked in for today...

while i worked Oxford on the 28th...
   it's not like i "forgot": i just wasn't messaged...
about today... ****** ******* diary keeping...
on my behalf? hardly... i woke up ready to shine...
geared up to do the shift...
arbeit macht frei is my new number one motto...
Wembley shifts... ooh... a blessing...
sometimes going above 12 hours... or thereabouts...

can't you squeeze me in?
   just in case someone blows-out?
  
no... sorry mate... can't print your accreditation
on a whim...
  
   but i already texted him saying: i know what NO
means... fair enough...

****... a whole day to myself... what the hell am i going
to do?!
    i ask dearest... what's for dinner?!
roast beef... ugh... not that crap...
no no... i love roast beef... when it's done proper...
done medium rare in the middle...
but...

    i've mentioned this before...
this recipe... it's a Turkish recipe...
i never thought that beef could be so well coupled
with rosemary... eye-opening...
you'd think on lamb goes with rosemary...
no... beef works just as well... if not better...
i guess the use of rosemary is a way to get
rid of lamb stink... why oh why lamb is sacred
to the Nomads while... pork... the most...
scentless meat in town is given so much
critique: didn't "god" create pork?!
why would god despise anything he created?!
it's counter intuitive...
and i once thought that the Welsh were
sheep *******... no... the Arabs and Muslims
in general have that award covered...
ugly... stinking meat...
  sheep... IT... STINKS!

                        at least pork doesn't... LAMB: STINKS!
maybe that's why their cuisine requires so many
spices... they need to drown the stench of lamb...
pork on the other hand? pristine chops...

tried rosemary: made it worse...
but i like rosemary... as much as i like thyme...
thyme and chicken...
but you wouldn't expect beef to be coupled
with beef...

           this recipe though... oh you know...
some Turkish cook... REFIKA...
hammered beef:

400 gr beef fillet steak
4 cloves of garlic, peeled
2 sprigs of rosemary
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
4 tablespoons olive oil
200 gr kolot - mild cheddar is better
2 dried hot chilli peppers
1 tsp of Korean chilly flakes
1 teaspoon black peppercorns (whole)
1 teaspoon sea salt

i woke up and... gaining knowledge that i wasn't
going to do the West Ham shift...
there's much better things to do with a cut of beef
than merely butcher it a second time via
a roast... ugh... roast vegetables and roast
potatoes... such an European "thing"...

wait a tick... i haven't done my 60km+
       bicycles sessions in a while...
                        want to see the Houses of Parliament
on the 1st of May?!
****... why not... via the usual route... past Forest Gate...
past Stratford... down Regents Street...
past Trafalgar Sq.? back past the... it was hide tide...
the Thames is not a river! it's an overstretched lake!
what river has a tide-in and a tide-out?!
it's not a river... unless: all rivers are like this on
an island! the Thames doesn't have a flow!
it... bubbles... it's an irritated piece of water!
it's not a river!

on purpose... i shoved down those black intestines
with barley and bacon and onions for breakfast...
with some rye bread...
ironed some bed sheets, t-shirts and a shirt...
and my work trousers...

it's best to count within the confines of 0s...
after all... a person's wealth is not measured impirically...
British Empire bound...
can you translate 6 billion in... what would be
the weight of geld... back then?

i'm done with post punk alternative music....
i'm coming back to the altar of Germanic Crusader
songs... Palästinalied...
i hear the music... i turn to proud airs..
mein gott: ich auch haben ein gesichichte!

jetzt?! alles ist bergwerk!

i am yet to eat a more łakomą feast!
a more greedy feast!
  
LAMB STINKS... perfect match up between
the Muslims and the Velsh...
perfecto! plush! mush! plush! mhuah!
finger-licking good!

why? why my disapproval?!
some elder ****- spitting on "my" pavement...
i don't like that...
disrespect the road others have to walk on...
sure... perhaprs in Pakistan you have
******* donkeys to grind a road to apply
to your obedience... by the stammer
of a donkey's hoofs...
over here... du brauchen asphalt...
    you goat loving spitting camel jockey
of a ****-...
                                     what?!

tomorrow's tired... let's have it... right now!
you ******* nonces....
you ******* fading chocolate copper-necks...
pseudo-predators...

i woke up with this great feeling of cycling for 60+ kms...
i did...
i stopped like a Dervish taking a brake...
at a shop that sold...
Turkish bread... packaged from...
the AL-BAHIJ bakery... somewhere...
near Wembley...
       it's not Naan ******* curry type of Jaapati
type of ****...
wholesome...
      
   i tell you... 60km+ backwards and forwards...
a meal like this will make you greedy...
beef + rosemary...
there's actually a difference between
freshly ground black pepper and readily
available ground pepper...
crushed rosemary... another "case" to implode...

unser liebe fraue...
    von kalten bronnen...
    bescher uns armen landsknecht...
   eine warme sonnen!

die trommeln! die trommeln!
               lälarm! lälarm! lälarm!

           alles güt, ja? wenn ein ist deutsche...
nein?!
   dann ist: partei-zeit!
        gütfühlen!
       ficken du: Hessen-Schwäbisch:
   schweinefleischislamischliebhaber-seltsam...
like.... wie... du was?"

oh man... that Turkish hammered beef...
with the red onion Sumac salad...
with the Sumac... with the red chilly flakes...
with the rosemary... the garlic...
the sea salt... the fresh real, whole... peppercorns...
U-BOATS man! Zeppelins!
               olive oil... lemon juice... pomegranate molasses!

hmm... i stopped over between Forrest Gate and Ilford
at this Turkish supermarket...
it wasn't the usual take on Lavash bread...
but it wasn't a ***(p)at(t)i either...
    the bakery? Al-Bahij... NW10... Miverva Rd...
  
i'm greedy for this dish... i'm always greedy for this dish...
do 60+km on a bicycle: you too would be...
you too would relax listening to Germanic
war songs...
            because... there's nothing better to listen
to when you're that much pumped up...
         nichtsenglischgesprochen!
nichtsenglischgesprochen!
         zu vergessenheit wir märz mit herz!
mit spatzen zum die nur schar!
                               unser: hohl von diese gräber!
Dawn Treader Mar 2021
Those words spoken long ago
I choked them down dry and raw
Now I find regurgitation
To be the only way
In avoiding asphyxiation
Belief is one thing
Reality another
A monster when combined
Some call it "Love"
Some call it a "Lie"
Delusion is jelly-thick
You know what tastes nice?
Reclusion.
I poisoned myself on hope and seclusion
Love, may you gag on my rotting flesh
My eyes have opened
My mouth agape
Choked out from love's embrace
My feelings on a long complicated relationship that has left me feeling so many emotions I thought I had pushed far away.
Àŧùl Jul 2015
If I find you gone,
Then I would better be a recluse,
Gone in reclusion.

Neither a monk nor a priest I'll be,
But I'll simply be an ascetic,
These words are not a bit unwise.

They would not find me unhappy,
Because smiling I always am,
Thanks to you I smile perpetually.
Again exclusively for my youthful enamorata.

-by Drona

My HP Poem #893
©Atul Kaushal
Dear you,
My skin quakes in the frost left behind
when his presence is absent.

Dear Me,
Stop complaining. thats all you ever do
anymore. No wonder he wants, wishes, and desires another.

Dear you,
I share with him things that are secret.
Things that would surely cause reclusion
if ever found by another.

Dear Me,
Ever think that maybe you desire
to share too much?
Ever wonder about the burden
You place on those surrounding you
when your misery is shared?

Dear you,
You could say anything you want,
Anything indeed.
A scar may be left but they will never fade.

Dear Me,
Try to hide me I dare.

Dear you,
Go away.
James Tuohy Apr 2011
Shell encased remedies made with the slightest bit of happiness and sadness.  Nervous tremors of reclusion to blame another. What are you waiting for, another empty chamber, pull the ******* trigger.  Lets end this so sickly, so quietly, there will never be a trace of any parallels to define my face.  If i could find any other way to replace what i knew was lost inside, to spin the thread once again and find a new life.  So forgive me for all my angels are really just strangers, and i really must say goodbye.  For iam breathing in a ocean of madness as my pours exhale my consciousness.  And i scream with all my exhaust to punish my unfaithful past existence with this trigger.  Lets end this so quickly so painfully, i trust you to find me when the leaves blow away.
Autumn Shayse Jul 2015
I'm all mixed up,
I've got a broken heart y'see,
and in a sense I'm relieved -
at least I know I've got one now.

I'm cascading,
into a former life,
where no-one is interested,
where no-one gives a ****.

And what's worse,
More than anything else,
More than the brokenness and reclusion,
is the pangs of regrets,
when I think of you with her,
knowing it should be me.
This really isn't good
Syd Mar 2015
I couldn't name the emptiness I felt
or identify exactly why the emotion
or lack thereof
was rearing its head into the cave of my chest
and making its presence known
but it was

I could no longer ignore the deafening volume of the world
and its constant reminders of my evolution into reclusion
from my father

I missed him in the deepest parts of my soul;
parts I was convinced were no longer capable
of feeling anything close to something this dangerous

missing you meant I had openly admitted defeat
in our lifelong war of silence
and surrendered to the weakness associated
with simply being human
unfortunately,
waving the white flag
just wasn't a risk either of us
were willing to take
for the sake of one another

the weight of it all was entirely too much to bear the night
I drove past the old video store we frequented
in my childhood
only to see it now,
after being abandoned for ten years,
reduced to rubble and ash
against the barren earth
where some of my fondest memories
were first formed

something unnamable was born in a part of my stomach
I hadn't previously known existed
as I realized with distinct distaste
that the world would continue to find new ways
to remind me
of the pain I thoughtlessly inflicted
upon you

*(I'm sorry, and I wish you knew.)
There is so little left,
And still much i need to question.
So untrusting of what i can see, hear or touch,
My senses fooled a thousand times and a thousand times again.

Hardened fortifications blossom,
Bringing perpetual reinforcement.
Working for at least a respite,
From coyote hordes outdoors.

Odysseus waits at the gates,
Educated eyes identify his horses,
Staring straight through the belly of the beasts,
Thwarting threats before they take to action.

King in the learned castle,
To never be fooled again.
Entrenched deep in his defences,
Securing solace through his reclusion.

it is lonely on your own

There is so little left,
This gives forth the question,
so untrusting of what i see, hear, touch but feel?
Perhaps the fraud is mine.

Cynical battlements sprout,
With spores of harsh repairs.
Crusading for disenchantment,
Cry wolf and call coyote.

Teach to never looked beyond the gates,
Focus attention in,
Cowered behind walls and towers,
Forever fearful to lower the bridges.

Lord of what little is leftover,
If any is left at all,
Prisoner to himself,
Until he allow himself to leave.
ali Oct 2021
if there’s a will
there’s a way to a place unscathed
where the willows grow unbothered
and the fortress of destitute
is the safest space to lay
where reclusion is a promise
of pleasure not punishment
and a herd of deers
is a kindred comfort
the most
if any
i just want to live in the woods by a lake and listen to evermore on vinyl lol
Onoma Apr 2
twelve pointed hats

lower over the silver pan

of her High North reclusion.

set down.

she stir fries the vegetative

chants of a clockwork coven.

an aroma fills the forest...

the unachievable balance between

decay & delectability.
Jordan Resendes Mar 2020
Cross contamination
Offensive origins
Restless revivers
Observing order
Never necessary
Always afflicted
Vague value
Implied intrigue
Rampant reclusion
Understanding unity
Stay safe
Abrar Abiyyu Mar 2018
A long struck companion, chosen of desire.
Diced bone of longed one, unrevealed pages afore.
Thousand fantasy lies of faces of the unexpressed,
Chimera of brainless nature expressed.

Hid well beneath the ocean vast in one of them forest,
Regardless flaws the nature giving.
Carried away from the distant inhabitest,
Astonishment of reclusion from a being.

Lonerism at its finest, shrined in his sanctuaries
Across the ignorance of the black seas.
Condemned, longed for his soulless
Paganized emotions this life lies.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2020
.i need to be dissatisfied with these words... they are so bothersome that... i'm yet to begin a what... a where... an anywhere to claim suggestions of my claim being adamant.

a candle for the pagan gods: in their wake...
for no reason other than
to somehow tread on ground
of borrowing inspiration...

i was called today by some incognito
clerk in a factory of voice...
she wanted to speak to
a mr. "x"... i implored for the first name...
ma-
       i can't pronounce it...

mateusz -
i should have taught her a little
instead of putting the phone done
immediately:
after all... she was going to sell me
life insurance...
i'm not a gambling man:
i don't gamble on horses,
i don't gamble on football teams...
las vegas would still be
a desert if i had my way...

              i could have taught her
a little: not that it matter:
or that i could claim to be colour blind...
i guess if you have experienced
the onomatopoeia of sounds
from a mouth who's **** is being
****** you'll be able to invite
any known stressors relating to "race":

michelle obama's black and brown...
my own?
chocolate, cinnamon,
a tease of cumin / coriander -
opaque: matted sort of hues...
glistening keynyan oily
marooned esque tamarind concentrated...

in madame bovary flaubert wrote
of a chemist's preference for
blondes... brunette...
let's go all out bonkers when it comes
to interracial mingling
utilising these architectural borrows:
a house is a *****
a stadium etc.
                   the limping phallus
of an obelix or statue or a skyscraper...

i knew i was talking to a gooey
tanning of khaki skin...
   it's not important in that it is important
for the descriptive addition...
i can't see the anglo-saxon way
completely...
  i like the addition of
sacrosanct  / immoveable details
of objects...

the middle ground: details of character
and personality...
to the point where there's a veil
quasi-n.p.c.
                i think it's important
that i'm hardly white:
       extremely: rubbing gammon
pink raw fetish
but given enough sunrises
and sunsets and summers:
i'm ol' iberian fake tan h'arab...
that's me...
                  black of what black...
after having ****** one:
with enough cocktails and wise
choice of music...
             interracial that it was...
here's me wishing to...
what frankenstein never did:
investing human *****
in a body of a wolf... at best an ape...
for kicks!
if i had enough money
and enough seclusion...
do you think i wouldn't want
to attempt this experiment?

her name was lisa but i know
she had the voice of a tinge more
fuller than mine...
you can tell what race speaks:
sometimes these cues...

ask the extremes...
a choir of Ursules: *** vox sanguinis Ursule...
and a baptist church choir...
you know who's singing...

the jewish dogs of genocide...
such shadow paths...
nothing to really celebrate...
and yet from the slave trade...
such exceptions to rules:
the voices of blacks: celebrated in song...
their ability to borrow instruments
from a classical period and turn them
into jazz... celebrated...
all the physical prowess of the "blackies"
celebrated in sport...
the hebrews?
who's celebrating the... voices
of the 'ebrews?
             singing broken-*******
at a ******* Bar Mitzvah?!
pseudo-castrato?!
this... this is where shadows give birth
to labyrinths...
they were not subjected
to genocide... yet they...
feel inclined to believe that:
they have been...
since... as ever... a small minority rises
to the top...
and doesn't possess the will
of the people etc. *******...

king Casimir could have been
****** by the nazis...
for giving them:
shaky grounds to settle on...
1410 and still these dumb-polacks
who converted to catholicism
400 years prior
wed their ***** of a bride
to a pagan lithuanian king...

that by 1410 there was still a pocket
of paganism in europe...
so large it required a teutonic mass
and the first postal service
to conquer it...
that some dumb polacks
stood their ground...
would be later shamed for dealings
with the ukrainians...
because: hell... the bands of UPA...
honestly?
the flag does it justice...
not this pristine: blue above and yellow
below...
red above... black below...

for some reason i seem to be
bombarded with history snippets...
mind you... years in an english catholic school
and the best we got was...
the end of anglo-saxon england...
philip augustus of the capetians...
oh most certainly:
fixture detailing edward the confessor...
it's not like we didn't
learn a "censored" history...
i suppose i have to learn "my" own...

but... in all... honesty?
i'm going against the hoarders...
those who hoard history rarely
allow anyone to learn anything from it...
therefore, it just so happens...
that it might have to be repeated...

i should just asked:
can you replace that Z with a H...
wouldn't that help:
mateush?

           it's hardly a special...
math-of-few...
for few for everyone...
i just want to hear all that baptist
soul
from the depths of auschwitz...
ceelo green: music to my soul...
a slave with gangrene blues
in shackles... later celebrated:
but of course... the suspect
hebrew intellect... as ever...

   it's not so visible it's not a singing
voice... it's not a body readied for
the hunt or some basket and ball...
and the dangling aztec project of loop loop
let's grow some gold...
i imagine the best ****-buddies...
though...
she would tell me...
i will keep you forever...
i will ease up the ******* strain too...
but i promise you:
i will never let go...
hell! i'd be like... Elisheba!
      i'll give up my ******* for that
sort of love...
i just imagine:
the day i was married to a god
to a woman to a monogamy holy swan
project... i'd have my ******* turned
into a snippet of "history"...
  
i did have a cultish idea only two days
ago on my usual quasi-marathon...
one will never walk with one's head
covered beneath trees...
one will always take off one's hood
one will always take off one's kippah
when walking beneath trees...
oh imagine! the sunlight and the cranium
of all these crows of trees!

i have to imagine such cultish quirks...
i'm not yet reconverted to my abandoned
catholicism...
little chance of that...
if i were pleading for a church wedding...
i'd be required a confirmation...
me? i'd much rather...
ahem... to be circumcised when
wedding someone...
all the ******* in the world
and cocktails of *****...

   here i was listening to some saint Ursula
chants... now i'm back
listening to: cee lo green's music to my soul...
any music from aushwitz?
any... wumpscut:?
any bunkertor sieben!

oi oi! here's a bunch that just wants
to talk and randomly chant
bogus rhymes!
   d.j.! give us the blooooooz-snooooooze!

Hannah? how is that?
         any sha! schtill! gaining pop frequency
status?!
           not enough Palestinian
paint-on plum
hit targets... not enough
experienced collateral?
counter the suicide squad...
  my pike! my pike's your pike!
oh no no... your pike's my dracula!
my ottoman keeper...
romanian... sloth for words...
loves his toothpicks with a bite first...
canopy expert... or so i heard...

this felicity thrill of language going
south of: westminster...
yes... the south of London:
some people do desire... staging
a... what's two weeks called?
formally? a fortnight... ah...
     honeymoons' a ******* sweeper...

either a blyck ******* the burner of my ribcage
of a...
sacred hebrew pride...
one which would come with
a leash
and i would lose the ability to *******:
one who i would wed
to be circumcised...

unicorns and siamese twin serial killers!
bright with a fire of dance
from a "blackened" voice -
the entire angelic choir has to be:
"bleak": blyck... bLACK...
you ******* are pushing
the ****** can down some "other"
avenue of: pseudo-somali ***-par...
ethiopian...

your voices are better inscribed
in song... to have this lackey body
take to jig than anything:
spontaneously animated:
but like the riddle for the rest
of us... the no man's land
of average achievers...

             for those of us who
woken up with your voices in
our heads...
and bodies disembodied...
sacrificed to the rhythm...
to having to face this
sterile environment of
lacklustre...
these bombs of well assured...
verbiage comforts
peppered with grecian prefixes...

but it's one thing to play basketball
with me...
quiet another: and i play the opposing
"team's" nuances:
i'm supposed to feed
this green hydra of jealousy...
it was never about the heart
of Macbeth...
i was always supposed
to earn the earnest of a progeny...

what songs from aushwitz?!
from the sentenced to a dodo project...
not kept as slaves that
would otherwise tier their toll
above mere stature of plumbing:
god... i have a beard...
it will never "miraculously"
turn into a ******* violin
whether or not i fiddle with it...

a tier above the english moors...
there's this fibrous land of the scots...
i have lived in edinburgh..
but i am not deceived by
th deserving comforts it provided...

the blacks feel outrage...
for being slaves... while the jews
sloth... in sullentry:
for being subjected to a genocide...
makes the mind boggle
and ask for a wilderness...
who is to become this...
voicerous exemplar!

not listening to the h'american project...
i would had i...
enough anglo-saxon boiling blood
in me...

come: revise me...
i am yet to find myself astouded
from the output of those living:
as i cower for inspiration
and grace of those
bound to the serenity...
of all things passed...

        from among the living i am...
lasting with concern for
mountains foddling
when egg-shells are
crushed with
the graces of ballerinas...
but not! stampedes of wilderbeasts!

this is now! this borrowed
time i have to imitate grief
for the liberals...
bleach me! have me scare
a sacred ritual of time...
                 i will, have... retained...
my... feet! the people and their
democracy can have their sway
and their own litanies:
their ditto-heads
and what's awaiting:
their cannibalism: self-proclaimed
redemption into reclusion...
but i, will, have... my feet...
with which to walk... and imitate:
ploughing a field...
i will have the wind for music!

i will have all these subtle intricacies:
for concern of detail:
i will not find myself
celebrated... hardly: that i must...
i will not have been
born from this hearth
from this... gladly besotten
first of breath... not so...
gladly inquiring their posit
of rooting...

let's just speak plain...
among the poets...
the priests... the prostitutes...
and the hebrews...
i of a 6ft2 and bulwark
form... could... compensate...
and the psychiatrists...
as a child i did have
a wild idea...
to procreate human *****
with monkeys...
with wolves...
and wait for the results...

             it's not like interracial
adverts for these newly achieved status
quo utopia bid me any luck...
a nigel: or a forkin' callin' it "inns"...
once you have had your
interracial: and all that ******* rattle...
there's no thai surprise
or a japanese porcelain "girl"...

enough of a walk come tomorrow
and enough sleep: promise me!
no dreaming architecture!
i don't like pretending / faking
death with sleep with
promises of disguises stolen light...
with the creases of grieving for
dreams...
it's enough that i have an over-worked
sympathy for the faculty of memory
and all that cameo cinema...
forget me attempting sleep
with an advent of dreams.
Jay earnest Apr 2022
Couldn't believe it, I planted a tree, and where was the false
God?

When I look away I fall forward. Nice  to know, account down, so was the  
promise of reclusion. I always find my way back

— The End —