To
rate, slide your finger across the stars from left to right.
__
/////// \\\\\\\
\\\\\\\\ ﷲ ////////
\\\\\\\ ///////
ǂ
ǂ
ǂ
ǂ
/////// \\\\\\\
\\\\\\\\ ﷲ ////////
\\\\\\\ ///////
Weird
little memory I had while washing the dishes of the dogs’s repast. I go back to
my days playing youth soccer for the Kingston team. Every year we’d be
photographed as a team & invariably the photographer was the same short man
with a small moustache and dark rimmed glasses. He had one of those shriveled
arms, the undeveloped ones, like a T-rex. I remember his arm had assaulted my
enjoyment of Rocky Rd. Icecream. Specifically Breyer’s ice cream’s Rocky Rd.
__
“That’s
exactly what I saw in my dream yesterday. I saw & was giving direction to
clouds, helping them to not be too aroused.” - “…funny
dude, gifted…”
____
“You
don’t look at everything…” “…take
your time…” “…just
saying…”
____
‘’’‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
*
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
*
‘’’‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
*
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
*
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
*
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
*
‘’’
‘’’
‘’’
Waves & Stars
‘’’ ¤ ‘’’ /\ ‘’’ ‘’’ ﷲ ‘’’ ‘’’ ¤ ‘’’ /\ ‘’’
The Police State, What cetacean r u fucking
on?
However, it’s not a question…
things hide in plain light most of the time…
I know that everyone will feel me…
Chapping the work lips…
I’m out of sorts!
I have no water! No water!
The roses are waiting!
The Boss needs be always discreetly guided
into an attitude of maximal well-being & selfassurance.
____
They, the minority, made it known that they
would be issuing their scheme for a proposed pyramid top. They would be, in the
strongest wording able to be mustered, demand that the cap of the nearly
finished pyramid be a teat-shaped walking snake pyramid crown. A more fitting
tribute to the sacrifice of sweat & blood & lachrymality offered as
pledge to industriousness herself. A teattopped monument shall endear the
greedy & divert the hungry from their moaning insides.
*************************************************************************************
C.A.N =
Chunky Austrian Nose
____
Landing is a must. No one
has ever realized, but they ought to, even if it’s difficult, that landing must
be done, it must be performed perfectly &, what’s more, with a convincingly
positive attitude that is, even more than being genuine, which is not a
requirement although certainly the reflection of inner truth being accurate
would not pose a hinderance to the overarching effect, is convincingly so, to
such a degree that no battery of appraisals, no matter how refined, nor how
overawing with an aura of perspicacity & sincere intentions be this
appraisal gauntlet.
*
Home is where the smell
of your back is.
When landing is done
there is no further torqueing of the degrees of the variability of outcomes.
The outcome is permanentized with the fruition of that alightment. "through
the wall came a faint warble"
‘’’
…tight….narrow….like a
channel.
_____
it's
about a girl who's very nice because she's so nice & people aren't
invisible anymore.
it's
so beautiful.
It's
what I would do if I met people who were me I would be very nice very nice.
....
Dream
16/09/2018
We
were buckling some little boy in what looked like an astronaut or ghost buster
or pest exterminator costume. He kept saying he had to go to the bathroom. We
were saying that he was 'mindbottling' us. We were both there. A scene switcher
kept showing us this room where the furniture had to be rearranged. We decided
to give away three similar looking love seats & to arrange the furniture
like that. I was touching my rectum. Cody was there. I knew I had a hemorrhoid
but I didn't wish to explain. Before there was this horrid dog doing diarrhea
on the floor and traveling crouched in the manner of Dodo. There was some other
presence but now the memory has been changed, can't pin it down. Travelling on
a big camper at times. Here was an middle-aged gentleman with a moustache. He
was speaking into a microphone linked to the PA system on the big camper. He
might have been giving a tour of the very desolate and drab landscape outside
the bus windows. It looked like rain. He came off like a substitute English
teacher, made some literary allusions I don’t recall. Trying to stuff the
hemorrhoid back into my butt. It felt real the doing so. I don't like to
discuss it. How shall I react to the chaos that infiltrates my refractory
unconscious each morning in the form of wildly disordered dream narratives? Is
it due to alcohol consumption? Poor sleeping habits? Diet?
_____
“So
who are you? The press?”
“No,
I'm the button.”
_____
The
Police State, Nuptial yeast
The
Police State, Eros Room Rosen
The
Police State, Furnituromancy (#AsAVerbBOBDYLANTHATDITCH)
The
Police State, Goldilocks Lockers Inc.
_____
The
Police State, Live your life with me
“#Interesting,
it’s a bum. Shouldn’t he die?” - Disnik
Keeet$$$
#”Coalescening
the labor’s fruit into small diskette that reassembles into formerformed
‘elsewhere’--_--the analogical precedence’
#”AnAcutelySynonymical—either
in taste, shape, memory, or past’s hope, etc” – A Small Diving Boy Countoured
In Silver & Green Ashtray
So,
here is the content—extrapolated from or ‘juiced’ into a quasimorphed
extraction which space holds up to the definition of an entirely new
premisinged space/environment which time gradually opens/blooms into
continence-like folded ramifications so far as to let places grow inside &
out of the environment into either “here” or “null”—that is to say “virgin” or
“occupied.”
Which
jerking
off to the sun
of
rising next to him
We’ll
replicate the longing
for
this “above” branch/root version
of
reality
as
a ringlet memory, an event from which
variations
will scale
encircumstanced
memories
that create forms, alleyways
an
entirely harvest original inviable spatial-temporal alternative
2
the 1st “housing event” which will remain as bare reality
that
is to say an unrented bare land
which
may grow gradually—it’s atoms blooming open—as inhabited by longing
it
may feel itself with the water of feeling—
*
The Police State, You’re opening
Your thighs look nice
when you stand with your legs pressed
together
they’re the artificial intelligence
I was at peace with it
It doesn’t bother anyone
If I seem like I’m talking off the story
of the people who have a body
I didn’t ask for that
but this is a good story.
I asked for release,
you can do it over & over
Release on the spot
The story of Life
With no Matrix
Here are stormy souls
You speak on a different wavelength
There are rules
& roles
To be fulfilled
--summary: there are so many
think: wavelengths
you’re speaking differently
terribly difficult things
I’m not used to it
Will I know when?
Can’t avoid it.
Would you want to be here?
See ‘History of Things 2 Do’:
the part of not-avoiding-this,
this may be primitive may be not
avoiding here
I spent a lot of time in a small voice
I spoke aloud
in that small voice of mine
ununderstanding, pointedlessly
“do you know—you can’t avoid it.”
the craft of somnolent sounds like
Salesmen
I hope landing lightly, discarded—really
interesting. That is the voice I was used to
hear
So you got him?
Speedless, cleftguttered with destabilizing,
strange creamgoldlight
inside of it
Whomever clones near the weaved-offed sparkle
filamentos,
dies.
The whirlygigs, too, carve their way through
history.
Part of a force from out of the blue, really, yet
an event—it did happen—
doesn’t I have we’ve come here
to see it
as it goes as barrels “bob & spin it”
in the fleuve where they drift
without incentive
surrounding each other as a crowd
touching one another in the bulbous
slickness, the private colleigance
their excruciating lives, which are boredom of
not ever lives ever escaped from
colluded continuously—to see it not convey
what is happening, truly, we see
a pair of dirty briefs happy following you
there’s no movie happening
everyone got that experience, they all came
here to see it
what is it to be, like, to see it? Maybe
another way?
To ask a question, perhaps have a gig, to
shuffle the afternoon’s appointments.
I want to hear the psalm
I just want to fuck you, in a lot of things
I wanna do scream childhood together
I’m doing that
It’s my new haircolor, wet barrel cap with
frizzy highlights.
The arrangement you made for me on my desk, for a night cap
--brown, shot through with little flecks of
hazel nothing’s happening,
the flecks are reputed to enjoy unassuming
flecks of their own, that house, the seats & the sofas
are very numerous, sublime vacancies
went unoccupied.
These furniture have nothing of the barrel
about them.
In fact, what better time to see it another way
It’s a true love of life
You don’t want them to know you have it,
seated this way, reclined, like English
museum style,
barely a narrow tin parascope tube
in the huge punches of cumulous oak tops,
it was most beautiful
they pay you in books there
Everyday the adventure communicates itself,
questions are another kind of adventure, if
you
ask a question I’m doing that
It’s my new 1910
When we had a nanny, a better one even,
before the war,
hydrated with water, lifted their finger, in
the air,
& made shhhhhhhhhh on milk moistened
lips.
Nevertheless,
it was not uncommon in those days to hear the
shhhhhhhhhh
of warlips, milk moistened,
this is a continuation of the crude fire
voyeurism
applying light to a disused apothecary scale,
I think it’s a bulk produce scale,
I have a scale for weighting gems
Some are found in wakefulness or streams
My sense of holding it back unbinded by the
turgid drupes
lightbulbing
from under the burst of triangular wax
leaves,
having a telephone conversation—the dirty
length of hospital tape
wrapped four layers deep round
the wrist
This continuation of brain that terminates in
a discontinuous hand
sometimes there is no wrist & the hand
all by itself
loses track of the time
he supplies the town clock with plaintive
caresses &
“presses”
he supplies
supple veins of his back & knuckles
against the hill
in restive anticipation of vibratory
soundings off.
When the hour tolls however, the resonances
are
incomprehensible & nondiscreet, finally
in desperation
& alienation, the hand attempts a direct
reading
of the clock face,
but alas the clockface is shielded by a tranche of fitted glass:
the hand scales down the verdigrised clock
post.
He, the hand, is beyond “where are they now?”
Another example of change
like a pressure shorted jet
of water in a classic mint rush of deflated
vehemence, as distinctly exhibited
in many of the “drunk in my fountain
of my former elementary school” or
some disused telephone’s bell’s hammer
subsiding precipitously from having rotted
somehow, and now,
and now, he composes an email
in a popout window
in his gmail account, he includes his own
email address
in the bcc lane. For one, awe inspiring
moment,
his own address appeared in the lane for
addresses
but the predictive skill of the virtual
rolodex
emended this
before he could ever notice.
Do you want us to lower down & rub the floor?
Is that sadism to ask it from having
subsided?
We yielded to you.
It’s not sadistic, it’s beautiful
& breezy.
The moist thumb palps almost clumsily in its
exploratory persistence, confused,
intoxinebriated with the steady increase of
everyone’s permissiveness,
around him—an originally sultry appendage
reminiscence of Cathy Roberts golden movie
theater arm
but enhanced by the viral aerosol patterns
which multiply the movie theater arm
many fold: one additional photo of someone
buried in leaves piles
sucking air through tuliped lips
from shadowy, underneath the upper strata, of
autumnal moultings,
absorbing a last hospice cares by the
adolescent breeze,
jerking off to an eagle of beer, all
brocoliii, potato sandwich, egg salad,
crisp dill pickles.
I just want to fuck you in additional leaves.
Craven pronoun variations
which render the accounted books opaque, yet
the flux is a merriment,
a fanfare for a individuality
divested of its circular casket
made of balsa wood carved into equally sized
wedges
& dispersed throughout thick fiscal
reports,
the zone of atomized sovereignty for the
discriminating gentleman.
What ice cream does Frank Zappa like?
TUKKS, TOOKS, TUUKKS, TOOOKKSSS.
The cast iron radiator awakes like a
reverently born infant
gurgling mellowly through semioccluded pipes
a child—easily calmed & one patted into
blissful sonority.
He’ll be aroused shortly by a mouthful of
downysoft tit.
It’s like telling Michael…telling Michael…
Oh uhhhh, oh uhhhhhh, oh! Telling Michael
about his belly fat!
The one which materiliazes only when he’s
wearing the extra-long pyjama
sex implant by the stove top, where he
sometimes stands
a grapefruit loveliness to that generous
spectacle
_____
The Police State, I’m so happy to be looking
at my fingers
“Masturbating
in the privacy of my own
masturbation
we,
71,000 pages,
have
you received my letters, oh?”
Yannick’s
Shotgun Wave
Killed
out of the sky
#TuckTonNitram
#TheDuckOfOurTwisterIdeas
That
secluded island
wrestled
from nonisland.
Immobility
is our objective
the
island herself is mantra
it
can’t look like someone slipped a diskette
on
the surface of the skin
&
made it turn into a beauty pad
the
size of that disconnect
The
one I was looking for has become out of my sight
#“K”
#Hello
#BrothersBrass&Typesetting
#MartinLutherKlanging
#ShortPorts&BurstedWordSeeds
The Police State, If I sunk into my pillow
like that…
“But
by no means were us ever spikened of living by the mouth forced to eat our
living bodies.”
-
4awhile
4
a long while
but
I light it & I’m done with it heart broking
Jesus
Christ on the floor
Heartbroken
& cold
through
the eyes of insane verrucht
so
it was never given a form
it
was unpitted to flick open a dossier it made
that
reminded me the day you were listening to Fabulous Muscles
above
my furuncle
Now
I understand something
You,
you have one phone call to Hitler
Access
to completely different neon
A
picture of how it looks when it’s not open
the
1 letter
that’s
your letter putting everyone in trouble
an
hour in the cliffs
new
nightshade cant.
A
sense that I have that increases my pleasure
A
music that satisfies
I
heard music. Trust me
This
music you can make it out
