Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…

slow
Slow think,
make real

re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.

Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?

or the light brigade,
CHARGE?

thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,

Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.

Know why? They forgot it. In the war.

Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?

Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power

War, as a game, has a reason.

Battle, hitting, slapping

stop touch, stop now slap
slap back

or cry
oh no no ma

waddayahsay?  A theist or atheist
who started this war?

space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1

Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth

1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me

ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he

inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days

There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as

a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…

like a poem

at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,

but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,

is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?

By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.

Press your point,

whetted edge,

slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood  thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,

wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.

A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.

-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.

D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?

Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.

Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.

Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,

shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.

But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.

An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying

powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,

his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,

to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,

the holy place
Here we are…

On Vacation, leave a message.
-----

See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need

to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that

don't scratch, listen

listen

60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,

one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...

can you feel that?

hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,

We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.

We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,

is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?

Ah,
novelty.

Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,

haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...

haps happen, I'm not sure how,

Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?

Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.

Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way,  'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh

someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son

Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed

hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,

but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund  
mound

wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones

begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock

We made it.
I know where this is.

This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,

Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.

How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?

"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.

You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,

pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.

Get back on,

see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?

Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait

Pay attention, watch, you shall see

imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream

in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner

the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was

Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots

dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?

Did that happen the real real?

-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology

allaye allaye outs in free

WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we

We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,

Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.

Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.

We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.

Shall we imagine

more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)

or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.

there's this common consensus among the irish
in england that they're the big fish,
the shark migrants, the ones who say
do to other migrants, rather than be, among us;
for example? they take poles to be (holy) fools;
oddly enough irish arithmetic doesn't really
spawn in other ethnicities too well,
unless of course it's an arithmetic for the
number of pints of Guinness you drink;
funny to reduce a civilisation to a pint of beer
as the civilisation's biggest input for the world
to see; walk into an irish pub donning a little
german flag on your arm and you're immediately
courted with a sing-along-song with the words:
i can't serve you: i've never seen a people
so adamantly proud to have been colonised
when uprooting others who were not:
a shamrock of honour no doubt.

christianity was adopted by the roman
empire, for the jews and the romans
shared an aquiline physiognomy,
in rude terms it's also called the Gaul Nose.

let's see... what else? ah, there's this problem
about the criticism of communism,
after all, western europe (inc. sweden...
huh? sweden?! sweden was neutral!)
was given the marshall plan bail out,
e.r.p. monopoly money...
eastern europe wasn't given that option,
it was given communism, a higher
bidder took offer, the jew said of the slav:
make him proud; of the german? not
so much proud but in a chicken house
of glass and cubicle, offices of paper lifting
mächtigmensch: in fifty years time,
having lost momentum of the industrial
revolution, exported everything to china
(unlike american national capitalism
china's national capitalism is subtler,
just a little tag on a shirt: MADE IN CHINA,
but... designed in caulifornia, the white brain
state), they'll be left with a recurring mid-life
crisis having to brand each life, sell it,
exhaust any chance of entering dialectics,
spewing out opinion after opinion after
even more opinion, basically taking out
a mortgage on an interesting life, and that'll
be the end of it... the advertising boys and girls,
by-products of a New Age Iconoclasm,
not with images, like St. Jerome hunched
or St. Francis of Assisi begging for birdsong
translations of the dove's descent
onto the head of John the Baptist...
New Age Iconoclasm, you see it everywhere:
usually with a trade-mark and a copyright...
New Age Iconoclasm examples?
Coca-Cola... Pepsi... MTv... Levis... Apple...
TM TM... COPYRIGHT FM....
the only damnable thing not ready for nostalgia
concerning former communist states...
well there was poland under the martial law...
a satellite state gearing up to either civil war
or the empire of the warsaw pact (z.s.s.r.)
1981 - 1983... terrible times... but not communist time...
now everyone wants socialism...
food banks in england, migrants in shanty towns
in france... germans being very courteous (hmm),
greeks throwing falafel into turkey,
spain the gem of south america frozen...
all in all, every european frightened of federalism
that cripples u.s.a., no european wants federalism,
no european wants to be bleached into speaking
*klar englisch, centuries of differences done in
conglomerating over the course of a few decades?
madness! no one wants to be like the scots
or the irish or the welsh... who simply say...
aye, buts wee 'ave an accent...
indeed, all you have is a historic insinuation
to what your tongue used to speak,
before the great kabbalistic anatomists
told you to always speak with your eyes open,
rather than sometimes closing them, and speaking
using the kabbalah to see the mouth's anatomy
of the 20 and above organs, including the main one,
the tongue, the brain of the mouth.

p.s. there's only one aspect of kabbalah that
seems dumb from the start,
akin to being pulverised by too many
maxims from philosophy,
and thoughtlessness of the oriental aversion
to think anything that might create
a self in transit...
it's numerology... i've never understood
a point of it, from such a methodological
investigation of phonetics with the
scalpel that is the tetragrammaton,
in order that alpha bravo charlie dumb-dumb
could not exist to stress clarity of
pronunciation / so that bravado would
not be investigated using linguistic cryptology,
as noted via: bruh-vah-doh / brəˈvɑːdəʊ
to saying: a = 1, b = 2, c = 3...
and the words kept me going were represented
by 11 + 5 + 16 + 20, 13 + 5, 7 + 15 + 9 + 14 + 7
actually meant anything.

Just think how perfect it all seems.
Examine, if you will, Plants.
If you won’t, “****-You.”
I am not your Cabaret floorshow.
Shall we begin again?
Examine the Plant Kingdom.
And let’s focus on Water—H2O for
You of the Walking/Talking Chemistry Set—
Water: a precise, covalent compound.
And what does it take?
A ***** molecule of hydrogen,
Pulling a 3-way with some pathetic,
Starved for affection,
Me-so-lonely
Me-so-***** atom of
Oxygen.
The rest—as they say--is History.
(CUE my readers—
My sweet, effervescent readers—
They come chiming in,
Avenging my Line 3 *******:
“No, Joe, the rest is actually Chemistry.”)
Although I may lack respect for my readers,
I am certainly not dealing with idiots.
This is Interactive Poetry, Kemosabe:
Life lyrics for the Chorus,
Of thee I sing.
Of thee I am one.
But I digress.

The subject was Water.
Water gets ****** up—&
That has got to feel really good—
Into a vast & elaborate network,
Dispensing itself, climbing to
Leaf-height by mid-morning,
Given that big, white-hot bocce ball in the sky
First warming, then igniting a thousand-million
Stoma/Stomata: Choose One.

Difference Between Stoma & Stomata: Stoma and stomata are similar words, so it's easy to get the two confused. The difference between them is easy to remember, however, as stomata is  just the plural for stoma. A plant uses its stomata to take in and release gases, according to EOEarth.org.... More »

Verdant Stomata?
Sounds like an Italian Pizza Queen,
As defined by Rhode Islanders,
According to Ronnie Conheim,
A crony of my early 20s,
Who has dis-appeared off the
****-cheeks of our planet.
Again, I digress.

LEAVES: the passion pit of our
Randy **** atmosphere.
Manufacturing oxygen for those
On the CO2 side of the equation,
Whatever that means.
Leaves: a reciprocal source & target.
For those of us in these parts who
Exhale carbon dioxide.
And just so we get this straight:
We are the Plant Kingdom’s archenemy,
Their bête noire, their Lex Luther incarnate,
Anathema, slugging & wheezing its way,
Through an eternally ebonic Worm Hole.

Plants & Animals:
These two would **** us both off.
So an ecological truce gets hammered out,
“The Paris Agreement on Climate Change,”
They are calling it, perhaps the most profound
Meeting of the Earth’s collected minds.
EV-VAH, in History or Chemistry . . .
(CUE BRANDO, Sky Masterson,
Guys & Dolls: “YEAH, CHEMISTRY!”
A shrewdly negotiated fairy tale,
With fine print out the yin-yang,
Explaining why only 144 of the 197
Parties to the convention have
Ratified (what rats do when organized?)
Ratified a document fatter than Manhattan’s
White page telephone book:
Behold BTW a species of literature,
Beginning to resemble a dead carcass,
Nearly an anachronism for a once
Vast & potent paper publishing industry.

Plant & Animals: these two
Will **** each other.
The Peace: a fragile trip wire.
The Accord?
A case of hyped ecological stagecraft,
The threshold celebration
Staged in--of all places—
Marrakech, Morocco:
The Hashish Capital of the Eastern Hemisphere.

Marrakesh Express - Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marrakesh_Express“Marrakesh Express” is a song written by Graham Nash and Performed by the band Crosby, Stills and Nash (CSN). It was first released in May of 1969 on the...

C.S.N Marrakech Express-YouTube/www.youtube.com/watch?
v=0AkYLtegF1MDec 14, 2009 ... Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Marrakesh Express (Live at Farm Aid 2000) - Duration: 3:56. Farm Aid 36,976 views · 3:56. CSN - Crosby, Stills...
(www.ads-right-in-******* poem.com)

That’s right! The poet finally figuring out
What it takes to avoid dying diseased &
Psychotic in the gutter.)
THAT’S RIGHT: $$$$ SELL ADS $$$$
RIGHT IN THE $KA-CHING$
MIDDLE OF THE ******* POEM!)

The Big Picture?
Plants & Animals:
These two will **** us all off.
And we'll watch the whole thing on Reality TV.

Her hand rested slight
Upon the book she'd found
Her bag across her shoulder
She was waiting for the sound
Of the door alarm at the B & N

I mean after all it was
Fifty nine volumes
On how to build a bomb
Found none to soon  
On a shelf at the B & N

Abandoned by her lover
After too many fights
That was five years ago
A lot of lonely nights
Casing the B & N

Screaming out loud
At rush hour on the train
Was not an option
Nor was *******
Snorted at the B & N


Finally people milling round
She quietly lifted the solution
To her ravaged heart
All fifty nine on revolution
S
    l
        i
           p
              p
                 e
                    d
Into her bag at the B & N



Head down and weighted down
She walked to the exit
Waiting for someone
No one to prevent it
Except security at the B & N

At last the perfect patsy
Alarm rang, the man froze
And our spurned lover
To the opportunity arose
Ran out of the B & N

Ran to the parking lot
Her VW bug
Opened the door
Threw in what she'd lugged
59 looted at the B & N

Key from the drink holder
In her shaking hand
er  rhrh  rhrh vah-room
Such a brazen plan
Perpetrated at the B & N

Her eyes glowed wicked
With rage and revenge
Someone would pay
All would attend
This crime hatched at the B & N

The deed was done
She clung to the wheel
The accelerator floored           
The tires squealed
Away, away from the B & N

life is made out of segments
    where we enter rooms and
                    become someone else
        for we must blend into
to not scare anyone

then we emerge into the light
and we eat and drink everything
out of someone else's fridge

How much for breakfast,
coffee chocolate and vanilla
Ella, el, el LA.  
One right, 2 the nose and back across
My belly, Elly, Ella, el la.  

Fitzgerald.  

The phone, pho' phourdy eighth street
San Diego, 8:51, vah nella, naps on my bed
Chocolate prefers then under the sink
Instead.  

Coffeenchocolate vanilla
El, ella, el LA.

Aatanki ko,
Alagaavvadi ko
Koi
chetahavni dena
Bahut badi bhul he.


Mauka mile to Mita do uska mool,
Chata do Usko dhul ,
taki jhelna  na paden, aur adhik shul.

Aatanki ek
Gumrah shakhs hota hai , jab vah alag thalag pad jata hai ,
To samaj Ko khandit karna chahta hai.


Vah Apne bhitar ke
Tanashah ko Jinda rakhna chahta hai .
Satta pratishthanon ko
Jhukana chahta hai.
Desh samaj ki
Asmita ko
Dhul mein Milana chahta hai.


Aatanki
Kabhi deshbhakt nahin hota.
Beshak vah hardam ek nakab audhe rakhta hai.
Kabhi kabhi vah
Desh bhakti ka
Chadam aavaran audhe ,
Desh duniya Ko kamjor karna chahta hai.



Tum uske iradon ko samjho.
Apney ko halaton ke mutabik dhalo.
Khush fahmi mein rahakar
Khud Ko musibat mein na dalo.

probably inspired by a book review
   that's the way it crumbles -
about the invasion of americanism
                   on the goo'     'ol
                                           englanddd...
        gender neutral: i / you.
    hyper gender?
                 the pronoun it
       elevated to the status of noun...
and a mini crammed with 15 clowns,
all staring at you spooky
               when clamouring out of
the dwarf car...
                        seemingly clautrophobia
wasn't an issue...
                    but one of the clowns farted
and that was the limit the 14 could take.
      so, as an oddity...
   a latvian tennis player won
the french open's final in the female
category...
             on point:
   and given the kissing borders:
        latvia (łotwa)      
    (you can add the v if you want
                               to replace the woo-woo) -
           and...
       lithuania        (litwa) (lee-t-vah)      ו‎ .
                  va-va-va-               -shroom!
and there's the mad serpent,
     slapping itself against a clenched array
of teeth... to the point where you kind of
     imitate
     an epileptic fluttering of your eyelids...
  ah... but only if you know how to
              trill   the  R;
no, we don't need phlegmatic
           harking french R,
or the english dentistry's anaesthetic
                                          numb R...
     no thank you: there's no:
                           to trill, or to not trill(?)
here.

perhaps the repenting drunk is more
monstrous than
the unrepenting one...
no... the repenting drunk is more
monstrous than the unrepenting drunk...
if the latter is still...
killing flies and the former is
making confessions to sore thumb...
                          
    currently they are laying new tarmac
outside my house...
    it is nearing midnight and they might
be finished come 5am...
    it's so real
that there's no need for painters...
or... it's so "surreal" that the scene
can be translated in my mind as...
the same men... manning a U-boat in
world war II...

a massive road paver...
   like a dinosaur / whale...
   and skidding road rollers
  of finishing details...
                shovels... bright lights...
a sedating volcanic scent...
a romance of:
        not working in an office...
therefore not needing to invest
in hamster-wheel fetishes of a gym...

but i'm not out there... i'm...
      Homer was also a man... Dante...
was also a man...
               Horace...
                what is gender dysphoria...
in the context of:
a man writes the divine comedy...
a man is... laying a road...
   well so much for writing these words...
and hoping to not feel
a ghost pair of ******* from
being castrated...
           as a man's man...
        or as... a woman's man or...
              the other the it the lobotomy oops...
by comparison
each muscle in my body is by now
a mollusk or an oyster...
   my phallus is in a pickle jar...
my **** is screaming: vough-vah!
pretending there's a titillating L
in there somewhere...
          but i am all for playing
this cascade of "piano"...

     mrs. america starring cate blanchett...
2nd wave feminism...
i guess the 1st (wave) invokes
the suffragettes -
                     yes... since the women
the vote: there haven't been any wars...
well... no heroic wars...
no pride ownership wars...
just collateral this... collateral that...
    but work as such...
            beside the harsh grit...
this... aesthetic ******* in between...

no man of a disposition such as i
should write words to paper...
it doesn't help the digestion of oats or rye bread...
hardly a boast of 6ft1 115kg
   and... hunched over this doodle...
that i wish my fingers were dancing
in my mind...
this softcore presence of life...
hardly a feature of:
    how bone can mingle with stone
and wood... how the muscle can be strained
and worn into a tearing...

but a poet is less than a tailor...
          grumpy fool... dealing with the feminine...
i detest having the sort of youth
that had me inspect philosophy...
by now: it's very unreasonable to have to...
it's not like being literate is
anything spectacular...
          
          to have replaced playing the guitar
with stroking my beard...
  is also a premeditation on the nostalgia
for shaving...
         impossible this scrutiny of
psychology... perhaps at best being:
riddled by letters...

i try to fathom the concept of masculinity
in the guise of the alchemist...
or the astrologist...
    but it's somehow impossible...
too impossible to quake at the prospect
of the masculine plethora of experience:

that i could... somehow...
make my body a potential...
                  and leave it as only a potential...
that there's this grey bureaucratic murk
of: that's enough...
  or... that's the constipated zenith
of all that was ever necessary...

  when there was a time of economic marxism:
i.e. there never was...
but to fend off this 20th century ghost
of a marxism: culturally speaking...
it's impossible to begin...
from the french revolution...
       from the russian revolution...
notably: because of the serf-emancipation...
prized african bulls...
while the sorry sods with
siberia in their subconscious...
prized african bulls:
                 slavery and genocide...
            because it's not like...
                   it's not like...
                        that's a paralysing dichotomy
of concepts...
          a people enslaved are not...
   a people made subject to genocide...
                       slavery is not negation...
                   the current grievance list of arguments
is so impossible to stomach...
       i find no sympathy in my heart...
between being kept alive... sought out
essential morbid crosses of exploit...
   but then... to be teased with life...
                     to be teased with any sought-after...
an african bull is... a lanky leek of a sorrow
of a pupil at a yeshiva school...
             it would be "easier" to run a marathon...
than read a nugget of hegel's oeuvre...
                    the phenomenology...

the viking culture: to be treated as wholly
masculine... had... a respect for the poetic...
no poetry when all is a half-baking
of journalistic integrity...
                 how the vikings loved poets...
by now: all are solo projects...
all is a democracy of solipsism...

     i could come around full circle: bilingual
"schizoid": de facto contradiction - squared...
                    this language is hardly recitation
material... where is the rhyme?!
                  it's not supposed to be ice-skating...
sharpening a knife...
           language complicates itself...
         should i wish to simplify it...
                i could if i didn't allow it to press
forward with automated purposes -
mind its own master...
  somehow comparable to a knee-**** reaction...

otherwise: to do something as convenient
for the tax-consciousness of the overt-wordly...
as to acquire skin drafts of roughage
from kneeling: stub spectacular
circus cameo: endless this constipated
barrage of words...

             like an imitation of colour:
that grey is a shared hue
of having invested in a plop of genesis:
either black or white...
               that there are enough
adjectives to hide a noun...
and that nouns behave like layers...
           and how one noun can't conflate
another noun...
           and how almost all concerns
for misnomers are adjective prone examples...

is that vinyl can be compared
to rock liquorice?
like cookie crumble is the *******...
wild exaggeration of ******...
         nothing is agreed upon...
           all is being riddled with a juggling
act... notably a sway to invite...
a "critique" of: the cure's siamese twins...
or: a short-term effect...

in Istanbul / Constantinople the old
world powers congregated...
talked and resolved their griefs with yawns...
the forest people of the north
made demands for the saharan bicycle
only-boys club...
                       the Hagia Sophia
was reminded of blood: brick by brick...
       the forest people had enough
timber for solving the toothpick conundrum...
while the camel jockeys served
a privy for... time encapsulated
with the usage of sand...
  and a riddle of a trickle...
                   because the mosquitos
required the advent of moisture...
and either hot... or cold...
the camel driver disinfectant managing
tool...

           it's a worded painting:
a word salad... or the very most debilitating
first concern...
last served...
                            hues of revised red and
purple... accents of colours...
demanding over-reach of what could
otherwise stage a solid proof of
geometry...

                     diptych spec-ocular...
                        a chicken drumstick not
riddled with angry teeth...
                     some disused nouns...
   otherwise the remains of prepositions /
conjunctions instilled with
an in-vogue presentability...
                          how does a word
beside itself to become out of fashion...
yet retain... it's etymological grant?

my dear sir / madam evans...
            no cute cue toward... being employed
by kew gardens...
   since! the house is in disarray...
                   best kept secret... a bone tomahawk...
a cave... some cannibals...
a whole litany of secrets...
that make... creepy-crawly talk
a foundation for: a butter extraction
from... jerking off milk...

more hollow than hallow jerusalem -
some said: build low...
others said...
give 'em the playground...
high tier raise and tow:
wasze ulice... nasze kamienice -
your streets... our tenements...
   the notable jews of poland...

there's a prestige at the nibble...
governing the prized palette fetish...
nearing the bones...
it's not enough to just... gorge with
a mouthful at the mere protein...
it is... mere... protein...
somehow butchered twice...
once at the actual butchers...
second when it was being cooked...
a meatloaf extravaganza...
       an amputee tossing giggles...

excruciating return-to narrative offers...
          because picking cotton was
not unlike... a potato harvest...
or coal-mining: leave that to the irish...
or the ****** slav enclave...
unreasonable spectacle of nostalgia...
a u.f.o. meteor replica
of awe...
             given... there's a propaganda
leisure concerning:
all are presumed innocent...
     of those that can do no wrong...

a very anglophile creation...
      if one were to speak french in africa...
one wouldn't want to claim
a return to the native talk...
    why... if i were not ******...
if i had to be made weary...
subsequently to be negated in such
a way as to... inquire... what prior
to... given a "hypothetical" lesson
in either german or russian...
                      of my "own" people...
                                  such that this is
written in english...
                it's not the english of a currency
of protest...
         it's not... hitchhiking...
it's not stealing the narrative...
it's... i want the narrative of a clerk...
                     in my mind i want:
ławka to remain... a bench...

         but in the realm of english-speaking...
french is somewhat: m'eh...
spanish is contested...
german is ignored or simply reviled...
arabic and mandarin have to
be acknowledged...
  the remains? either negated outright...
or beside a concept of concern
via "being" neglected...
there's only the riddle of gaelic or welsh...
if one were to find a locality
within the confines of english:
and a geography and a fake of
the cross-continental diaspora...

i only write in english because...
   there's a comforting concept of irish...
a sort of hebrew synonym parallel
contending with the egyptian hieroglyphs...
cocktail of:
it's hardly a contest...
to have to heave...
a borrowing...
                   of having attained...
         a status of: being conquered by ancient
rome...
   most notably the english...
who spell a latin letter by lettter...
unlike....
      the fwench: who applied some adventure
in the detail of: a diacritical marker...
  the S i.e. kedilla...
     or the iberian folk... blah blah blah...
borderline... where rome didn't arrive by
sword... the greek arrived at with quill...
but that's still... contested territory...
this "central" and "eastern" ESTONIA /
LITHUANIA...
       and the borrowed tribes of mongol / mongrel
polacks of... silesia is
the new sardinia /                  sicily...

otherwise to partake in the ****
of assurances of those born into
a "*******" to mere speaking english
this leash like not other...
and some muzzle...

a gargantua of the not displaced...
failed city adventure
economics...
              i have to bestow
an agony of jealous worship for
a people: beside a concern for the individual
as having the nomad bestowed
upon them...

this ideal crux of a welcome day...
and this abiding by a synchronicity
exhaustion of the night with
the ideal of minding sleep...
towing my inability to fake...
dream-world architecture...

                       to be made necessary...
beside a concern for "love"...
to have enough of a worldly affair as
any man should even perhaps ought:
to begin a prospect of an aching
breath with...
                
          what a daydream!
           what! anyman's tittle and...
that there will never be...
a myriad of a reasoning with doubt;
choicest...
my once prized peacock: doubt...
a sacrificed fixation on sharpening
a discard of loitering emotions...

    now this outright:
              having to compete
with the forever unnecessary...
a walking abortion...
                         glide over gimmick...
and... forever towing that
best kept inhibition, spectacular.

this is not a shared experience,
this is why i don't write: or if i write i do out
of spare details in some variation
of leaving opening the gates of ditto
                        like so:    

                                           (thus).

australian visa assessment registration,
fee: i only learned of there being a fee
after i scrolled past each month
from the year 2024 back to 1986
to find may 15th in may

                    some "miraculous" date obscurity
like there is a need to celebrate
with song akin to Aud Lang Syne:
but there isn't cause for celebration

a very quiet formal affair of champagne
black forest gateau
                         roasted chicken and tatties
with some coleslaw to my astonished
improvement
not just mayonnaise but apple cider vinegar
to give the cabbage and onion
and carrot the added semi-pickled crunch
and some mustard and some mary-rose
sauce and some parsley
then before coffee was served
a shot of Polish bimber (moonshine)...
a sobering slob of a tongue slithering into
the shot glass before the guillotine
of knocking it back...

girlfriend future wife on Kauai (Ka Wa E)
woke me in the morning
finishing a shift in a restaurant cleaning
pots and pans: clamor of stainless clutter
a happy birthday song
i haven't heard since i was still a child...

sto lat sto lat niech yje nam niech

וה     (almost forgot that i still had the vah
stashed on my dashboard...)
to remedy the 'yje - from the clutches of RZ..

i.e. learning new words from Cambridge:
is used as an allographic variant of the letter Ż:
Ƶ is a handwritten form of the letter Xi (ξ

zeugma
allophone
allographic
polysemy

ʒ or subscript 3
partial beta-clause...

                         of Iraq and the ziggurats...
disappoints...
whatever your choices
there will always be pockets of
unabashed chaotic memory revelations
not caused by the calamity of
spontaneity
but life pushes on and through
to no greater measure of the worth
of living beyond the one already
testified with: as
the lived - to my amusement how living
is coupled to experiencing:

that there is talk of a lived-experience
like experience is a word less
harsh than existence:
out of every instance
the incapacity to hold a thought-narrative
that could be summoned intact
an intact-self the self-intact-ness

    -less is also a quality that can be
best summarized via
scrambled eggs without the yolk...
pale scrutiny of fats missing...

of Yemen and their zhoug...
like a variation on the Argentinian
chimichurri...
   because i believe that's where
said origins of the paste-blob that could
be used to spice up dull paintings
2nd best utilized prospectus...

or stay in one place like Gloucester Harbor
and count seagulls like
Charles Olson
                or perhaps like Kant
count footsteps toward the further away
point of mind the anchor
and thoughts the seas
sacrifices of adventure no further
than the vicinity of Königsberg at a 10 mile
stretch...

to now think from humble origins
to the deafening boom-echo vibration
of London under the arch of Wembley
to suppose i need to step a foot outside
the reality of sea and bring
the sky to the sunrise
and venture toward Polynesia

this Palagi...
Haole...                    at least in the category
of: us "vs" them or rather
                            us v                non-

leben sie wohl!
                   leben sie wohl!

ah: a day's interlude...
a working pattern...
start writing in the morning and afternoon
micro dosage of Putin Marijuana
i don't think i drank...
?
no... i didn't drink...
i micro dosed

on marijuana juan's mary...

            then got on with life
put on white shirts on in the PRALKA
like PRAVDA
PRALKA a word which i will allude to in a triangle...
i.e.

1st person
2nd person
3rd person

grammatically:

                                Matthew (2nd person,
                                      NOUN)





        ­      I                                                    He
(1st person,                                        (3rd person,
PRENOUN)                                             PRONOUN)

why do children from syllables
in Asia and continue
our ontological genesis is syllable bound
we only later much
later discover atoms and letters
#MAMA

MA MA
not Om and twice on the rhythm struck
boom boom boom
heartbeats of the cities of Glob Hades
we only come to letters after making
sounds in imitation and gratifying
other life...

GA GA of the tooth of mama
                        what are pre-nouns?
before man learns names of things:
rivers, objects...

there is no defining subjectivity of the hypothalmus
hippo experience:
existence out of every instance
of those reciprocating life
with due pardon: death is wait
death is wasted space
not time per se...
death is less time invoked as a waste of space
invigorated....

Martin aside: HE was a waste of space
even intellectually...
perhaps i don 't have a day job
but i have a dream world job
of writing for free to the attention of:

sobering note: ever watch 66 thousand people
walk past you so slow
like they did
at DC3 cordon on Olympic way
only one bazooka of cordon ON
with the megaphone ALARM
i can say alert with an accent to give
elert the -sch- it so ******* fatherly
desires... to originate myself in old germanic
working father germany
liberal daughter england
old saxony...

pre-noun is closest I
I who from giggles and laughter
and computer: say NO
NO
reading ****** expressions
knowing boa constricted ******
tension from good ***
and *** implosive
rather than *** explosive
i'd like to see a ***-implosive society
without annex:
nunnery in the bay area
of how internet is used:
a shop, an encyclopedia...

     dating app? shopping app?
pornographic adverts?
******* is like advertisement
in the real world...
people hyper focus off of one
like 0.5 of a person... anchor or bridge?
forgot whether this ship got stuck
in the middle of the river
and turned N/S
from its usual course of E/W
i.e. from east to west
but aeroplanes travel across the tropics
of Cancer: Edie
Capricorn: Promis...

the latter's words ring so true now:
don't try to save these women...
Linda is mother's reflexologist
Lydia is Edie's mum...
and Reyla is the "5th wheel apiece"...

i can finish this right now or waste my efforts
to "refill":
no... until the elbows hurt and the idea
of poetry becoming only cascade
prosaic:
rather if rambling poetry is like a newspaper
is like an escape from books
from prose tight sell-by-date-spacing...
poems don't sell
but books sell
and they sell not by a xthought
of +++digressions...

                            poems like easily discarded
paintings but better... trapped in time in memory
of individuals of individuals
off of individuals
off individuals
collective events like me returning
from Hawaii on the 7th October 2023
and a hell that came with me:

not as a direct result
but then again walk into a protest
march
and scribble any semitic letter on a flag
and chant your chants
and what do you expect...

but poetry can be more than an outlet of
confections and conditions
like some safe-space what with
Dante and Byron?!
is poetry something easily made to print
and not made to indent
on the tectonic plates of mind
this Earth Baron Vishily
and his Salt Mines of Power Bland...
some idea for a former book of science fact
look how the immediate explosion
of man's compa...

/kɒmpɑːtmɛnt(ə)lʌɪˈzeɪʃ(ə)n/

    (i had to look that spelling up...
does one word make me dtslexic? qwerty dyslexi
typo?                           ?)

the explosion of science came with the humanistic
explosion of science fiction...

second, soft scientific revolution
there was an industrial revolution

ergo the obvious for the common man...
but there was a scientific revolution
therefore there has been a
hard scientific revolution
with the chemistry and the physics...

now the soft scientific revolution
with the AI the engineering
and the psy-ops
soft machines and make-ups
and downers big big downers
of the ***** brigade
disillusioned somehow what?
somewhat, yes...

conversation with a DJ at a street party...
soft science that's all
counter productive ontological
first becomes a beginning
and outcomes a hierarchy of endings...
films like ghosts on inflamed vinyl
fireplace marshmallows
and burnt stars of Anise...
           that sweet hash of Morocco i am somewhat
new to you...
Europe is a museum
let us forget
all robots and stubborn farmers left:
new hygiene of ego like spider in a web
of truths and untruths
openly saying: what do you want?
unfair, what is: i thought life was rather generous:
the argument from nothing or off of nothing
god said and why not give humanity
all that i am
in all that's good and horrid and a torrent
of unabashed but never i usher my word
from the: but i needed man for my bureucracy:
byoo-row-ah-cra-c
                                sea­: see Baltic Sea...

/bjʊˈrɒkrəsi/

                       second dyslexic example...
life's complicated and sleep is heavy
with a cat nearby and
i am abusing whiskey and ****
and putting it to good use
imagining myself the street DJ
on the cordon at DC3 that Netflix doc
about bastion Wembley being town apart...

and this is life
my Neckari... a word from the dimension of
the prenoun...
MA                       AM GA
         AT TA          

                      much later much later the noun:

Matthew... could you?
who is Matthew?
this is Matthew?
oh and much much later there comes the narrator
I and then he should he wish realise
the 1st and 2nd and 3rd and his nth
terminology seek guidance when
trying to seek the world...

          I comes from nowhere rather than nothing...
not a rigid concept to be honest
enough scalpels in the air as it is...
"i am" Matthew to then abstract Matthew
as the countless number of them
and discriminate with there being only
one River Thames
but at least twice as many Londons...
regardless...
"i am" Matthew - m other said father said MATEO...

later much later when all the other nouns
started to sink in and become
vocabulary antics of:
            then once Matthew knew the air
the sky the moon the sun
the chair...
the cat...
          only when Matthew became Matthias bar Adam
did Matthew finally understand
a way to say: Matthews...

   i am "matthew"...
                                  only then and only thus...
then and only from then and there:
the idea of pronouns...
and trans-genderism and this "philosophy" of Silicon
coming from the guards at the Iron Curtain...
i've been woken up by tremors in
the Silicon Curtain and all that soft
talk technology like bio-tech is not the most
maneable...  ▽ ◼◼◼

                        maniable...

             what if one create a genre of AI
communication pretend Sauron?

a sample:

konrad eschlert
can you fathom a geo-political transition from the Iron Curtain to the Silicon Curtain give the Silicon Valley social media tech billionaires wanting to be part of the conversation, soft trans-humanism etc... i am drunk and writing a poem and this will be a sample in my creative endeavor

chatgpt
certainly, i can help explore that concept for your poem. here's a draft idea for your creative writing.

from the iron curtain to the Silicon
Veil,m a shift from cold steel to the soft
glow of screens, where once the shadows
loomed in brick and rail,
now algorithms whisper in digital
dreams.

Silicon Valley's titans rise, enshroud,
their networks weave a tapestry unseen,
in data's grip, the silent masses crowd,
new borders drawn in binary sheen.

trans-human whispers hum through
the wire, augmented selves in clouds,
begin to form, the billionaires,
like gods, our new desires, their coded
realms the eye of every storm.

yet, echoes of the iron curtain's past,
remind us of the cost of hidden walls,
in this brave new world, where shadows cast,
beware the veil where freedom slowly falls..

but there are AI limitations
on say: invoke smart phone Morse
or E. E. *******'s punctuation for
ol' 'am of D'A'S...
      lazily not hyphenated...

hats, rabbits and who was sitting in the rights
place...
   no subjective experience of...

TRANSRIPT

THE FRONTAL LOBE is for personality and emotions, higher thinking skills, like problem solving; and controlling movement. It continues to develop until you are in your mid 20s.
THE TEMPORAL LOBE helps process your hearing and other senses, and helps with language and reading.
THE PARIETAL LOBE is involved with your senses, attention, and language.
THE OCCIPITAL LOBE helps your eyes see, including recognition of shapes and colors.

which part of Martin is ****** up?

so much of what's the subjectivity of the brain
is simply a QUARTER of
what the reality of the brain is
name the eyes
and tongue
and skin and movement and so much of the brain
is something
quiet an experience unlike
a heart-attack
like a shaman drug trip sort of exhausting others
in how he can perceive himself
having an early retirmenet
in a care home freed from life's constraints
that might have been a kamikaze mission
if i were to conjure up a bonanza of quests of Q?

a poem a day keeps the psychiatrists away
but sure as **** invites a god
a word that's a god personality / medium
a devil
a cat several angels
and dead people and hmm hmm hmms
and botanical king the curious green
itch from brown below
to sieve through roots
and find enough sand to create a bridge
toward the kingdom of the snorkeling
apes from white Odysseus pale pale pale
by comparison
this kingdom from the sea not associated
with a north i'd sooner find upon waking
north to my left
and east ahead of me and
west behind me every time i travel into London...
much easier at the Firth of Forth
in Edinburgh
but so too there there was youth...
not the clamor of age and sensibility...

how to date this... hmm: perhaps with age:
38 on the 16th May 2024.