Pondering, I sit
Contemplating, all that has
Commence, the future

As Olive Spectrum lay on the floor at Club Envy with her lungs burning and filling up with blood from being shot by an unknown person she thought her life would never end like this.  Olive's tears started to flow as she thought of the years she spent slithering with snakes.  Her job at the BNB Bank made it easy to launder money for the Black Crime Syndicate.
It was six years ago in the month of June that her life took a downward spiral.
Upset at the thought of being late for work Olive floored the gas pedal.  As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic Olive hoped she didn't get a ticket.  I just had to stay up late watching the marathon of Funny Man.  Now I got to race the clock and pray I don't get stopped by the police thought Olive as she sped past by the other drivers.  As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB Bank's parking lot she checked the time.  "It's 7:55am.  I made it within five minutes" said Olive.   Olive got out of her car and walked through the bank's glass doors.
As time passed the employees of BNB got the bank ready for the public.   One of the three people that arrived at the time of opening was a new face.  Mmmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skinned man.  "Hello sir how may I help you?" asked Olive as she eyed the man up and down.  "My name is Akurra Wings.  I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skinned man.  "Mr. Wings please follow me to my office" said Olive.  As Olive and Akurra sat in Olive's office filling out papers Olive made it up in her mind that she would get to know Akurra on a personal level.  
After a day's work Olive got behind the wheel of her BMW and started her drive home.  On her way home Olive called her best friend Jewel Stone Wall.  "Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Olive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone."  "I'm doing great Olive.  What's up?" answered Jewel Stone Wall as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors.  "Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Olive.  With a confused look on her face Jewel asked "Is the day Friday already?"  "Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Olive.  "To tell you the Truth Olive I thought the day was Thrusday" said Jewel.  "No Jewel it's Friday.  I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Olive.  "You better be thankful.  I'll talk with you later Olive" said Jewel.  "Ok bye Jewel" said Olive.  
Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life.  She always looked forward to Saturday.  A day she would spend at the Golden Scissors getting her hair done and talking with Jewel Stone Wall her childhood friend.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum

Last week I told you
That I was drowning
Thinking that you'd jump in after me,

But to my surprise,
And by the way you cried, your surprise too,
You held my head under the water,
Just below the inky waves.

It was cold and muddy
And I choked on it too,
My eyes were burning
And my whole body shook
And I grasped for your hair
To try and pull myself up
But you cut it with a quick jagged slash,
And pushed me down deeper.

And soon my eyes began to hollow
And my lungs forgot to struggle
And I swear,
Through the water I saw your velvet lips part
And let out a final thought
Haphazardly tied to a sigh,

Because when I tried to tell you that I still loved you
You just let us drown.

As Olive Spectrum lay on the floor at Club Envy with her lungs burning and filling up with blood from being shot by an unknown person.  She thought her life would never end like this.  Olive's tears started to flow as she thought of the years she spent slithering with snakes.  Her job at the BNB Bank made it easy to launder money for the Black Crime Syndicate.  It was six years ago in the month of June that her life took a downward spiral.  Upset at the thought of being late for work Olive floored the gas pedal.  As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic.  Olive hoped she she didn't get a ticket.  I just had to stay up late watching the marathon of Funny Man.  Now I got to race the clock and pray I don't get stopped by the police.  Thought Olive as she sped past the other drivers.  As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB parking lot she checked the time.  "It's 7:55am.   I made it within five minutes" said Olive.  Getting out of her car Olive walked through the bank's glass doors.  As time passed the employees of BNB got the bank ready for the public.  One of the three people that arrived at the time of opening was a new face.   Mmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skin man.  "Hello sir how may I help you?" asked Olive as she eyed the man up and down.  "My name is Akurra Wings.  I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skin man.  "Mr. Wings please follow me to my office" said Olive.  As Olive and Akurra sat in Olive's office filling out papers Olive made it up in her mind that she would get to know Akurra on a personal level.  After a day's work Olive got behind the wheel of her BMW and started her drive her home.  On her way home Olive called her best friend Jewel StoneWall.  "Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Olive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone.  "I'm doing great Olive.  What's up?" answered Jewel StoneWall as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors.  "Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Olive.  With a confused look on her face Jewel asks "Is the day Friday already?"  "Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Olive.  "To tell you the truth Olive I thought the day was Thrusday" said Jewel.  "No Jewel it's. Friday.  I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Olive.  "You better be thankful.  I'll talk with you later Olive" said Jewel.  "Ok bye Jewel" said Olive.  Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life.  She always looked forward to Saturday.  A day she would spend at the Golden Scissors getting her hair done and talking with Jewel StoneWall her childhood friend.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum.

ever read a book and thought about a chello?*

on the left page of a book,
a finger follows an eye
that would be a tongue...
    on the right:
       a nun that understood
a paragraph...
         like a tailor eating
a pizza...
                     what 2 +2
is there to mind?
       apparently my maine ****
likes mahler
        and the sound of
a clicking keyboard....
                   well... if i am not
supposed to have children,
i have to study:
aren't petted felines
entwined with feline
eyes, when, what the lion
possessess (
i imply the past participle
of havin)
    it's not a spelling
mistake, rather:
                           an experiment...
        can you spell that
without
genesis genghis
              khan morphed;
half of pakitan ends with khan,
to read a book...
        being right-handed,
while drunk,
      and have to read the *left
page with a finger-conductor...
        "claustrophobic"
             with due to the "cube"
of a paragraph...
                                  as son,
i might bring the mass to kneel...
       juxtaposition
                   has never, but will now
offer a neo-abstractum;
just like modern media hasn't
understood:
            the world tends to tilt,
and yawn, simultaneously...
                 but there's still a cat appreciating
mahler...
          i still don't understand
a honing device
        of globalist mafia marking fame:
translated into trivia...
                and have you ever
read a book like a musician might
play a tuba?
         ask a ******* píckey for
            a knuckle tattoo...
                            and i'll beg you for
an attempt of a: skovronek fluster!
                  i pity the anglophone world...
it's so bombast prone...
                it has no mediocre allowance...
since the time
that a television replaced a fireplace
and didn't do much for
what was necessary to socialise...
      ; each and every day i'm growing
suspicious of
                            what encompasses
a need for thespians...
                       and why plato doesn't
revel in excluding these *******
from the republic...
                    poets? muhammed also
attacked then...
            no one attacks the thespians
though...
                          a bit like me not
index finger **** ******* my cat...
                          poetry is, a democracy...
the ars poetica est civitas popularis,
but this greek ******
                       has bred an ideology
of thespian autocracy...
      we live in times when the arts
are hardly mediated toward a democratic
buffer model;
                     just ask a painter about
what "he" feels about the over-representation
of a thespian...
                           nietzsche was
wrong about plato being boring...
                plato is someone i rather not have
inherited...
                      or rather: the past is past...
****... it's history?!
                   ars poetic, qua restitutio
                                republica:
           ­                    qua contra thespian.
perhaps myths have spawned and
died in the theory of time
based upon the "study" via nostalgia...
                       but thespian is
a deity, more real than god, being
a deity "needing" prayer.
         i still have to run my finger
across the sentences, condensed
in a paragraph on the left face of a page
as if imitating a braille reader...
   but when it comes to the right page
of a book?
           call me loon, call me child:
i can strangulate a cobra and call
myself a b'o(h)a(h)...      
                 for me it's monday, purim,
tuesday, purim, wednesday, purim,
thrusday, purim,
                             friday, purim...
    i still can't remember the name
                      of the sequence of months
in my native tongue...
            hard to consider a disparity
between a ******, and a brute.

what's it like to forgive and forget
you seem to do that often

it's all talk
never fulfilled promises
lousy and poorly at best

I start to hate every tuesday and wednesday
I hope thrusday and friday last a little longer too

I hide out in my room
I get the feeling
I don't belong in your life anymore

pushing me out
slowly
replaced and I start to feel lonely

time to grow up
think this is the end of the line

I already miss you
standing next to you

there's no way to prepare myself
to let you go

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...