the evil that speaks of love

the evil that speaks of love

is never far away

its like the wind i hear

always empty  near

 

whats that supposed to mean

 

mean?

 

evil  being an anagram of vile and live and nearly one of love  in being compared to the wind  itself of the tribe of flatulence and clocks  begins to suffer from an analogous breakdown not dissimilar to that purported to be between mangonel and mangetout

 

wot

 

wot i meme is  or rather wot that which is not i doesnt meme is or maybe isnt  not quite wot the near thats never far away memes

 

that helps

 

let me explain

were all insane

 

that helps

 

helpings a condition designed for the isnt that speaks of is

 

nowhere does the digger go but lowest then still even low

 

shaman like all now ancient desperations is overused and underdone

 

spirit trenchantly works itself out in the trenches of digitalia  the abandoned lots of eden using commodities of passion for the release of its irritated bowels  privates of opinion for fiveconcept generals playing facemask on voidbook

 

its horrible whats happening in the world

 

that sexy & romantic martyr che titting it up across perky planets

 

mein is have scene the gory of the cuming of the board

ei is tramping out the frottage where the rapes of death are whored

ei has goosed the hateful cozening that no one can afford

vermouths debauching on

 

gory history gory shoah

history gory gory shoah

gory gory history shoah

vermouths debauching on

 

eye have reamed ei in the clock pyres of many morbid dibbling tramps

ei have bribed

 

can we sing something else

 

i love that song  so marchy and triumphant and pyretic and insane

 

how bout a little political poetry

 

yo bidet is our kinda man

sitting on a ticking can

kalamatas our apotheosis

who helps us with our dermatosis

 

thats beautiful

 

bayonet loreate in training

 

oh honourable blit  piss us with your turds we play

 

let us speak of love

 

love is an image of a reflection of a double of a conceit of a guise of a fetish of a facsimile of a mirror of a representation of a semblance of a

 

let us not speak of love

 

notspeaking is a semblance of a representation of a mirror of a facsimile of a

 

let us not speak

 

not speaking is a

 

let us not and let us not not

 

sing another song that makes me want to hear a song of something else

 

a song of something else

wait   it doesnt have a pulse

but this song of myself

is a divine impulse

 

yeah that doesnt work

 

i sing what im not to sing   hunted fugitive unwanted vomitive

 

that doesnt work either

 

work?

 

i am a tree

 

you wish  but unfortunately youre a not in a flaw

 

what i said  a tree

 

trees are dead

 

there are  despite us  still trillions of them

 

dead as donuts

 

donuts are trees

and i am free

we are dead

and alls been said

 

time to wrap this up

 

down is up

you fuckup

cuz up is down

fear is clown

prayers to aliens

if theres anything i feel strongly about its that any novel worth its weight in digiglyphs should have prayers in it

so heres prayer number thirtynine

 

                  dear aliens

                  we know a lot of us have been suckerpunched by lines like

                                    a little lower than the angels

                                    made in the image of god

                                    subdue the earth

the goal of the human soul is conquest perfection security superiority

the human subject is active and therefore exercises agency while the nonhuman object is passive thus nature and nonhuman animals are available for human exploitation

humans are intentional rational premeditated while animals are instinctual

unless you become a warrior youll be crushed and forgotten

humans are exceptional due to their superior language and toolmaking capacities

humans are manifestly the highest rung of the animal order

oh alieni

we know you laugh at us

we diminish oppression in one sector only to transfer it to another

we do and think the most horrible and irrational things and then surround them with virtuous clichés and this confidence game is society

we narcissistically believe whonymitys more entitled than other creatures and artifacts

we accomplish nothing but destruction but are so inept we cant restrain ourselves even when weve lost faith in our accomplishments

we know our institutions loves families religions philosophies arts actions attitudes thoughts are built from the elemental particles of fear deception indolence and greed and stories and ideas so infantile were wholly unworthy of the comforts that grace our lives and the walls that keep the darkness out

were endlessly fascinated by our lives  our every petty joy and misery  that new pimple on our butt  and care more for the comfortable cat that suddenly appears by our back door than we do for the millions of animals we incarcerate torture slaughter and devour each year

we are a worthless and disgusting species  not even a blip in geological time or a modified register in the consciousness of the universe

 

and the aliens shrug and briefly materialize

from their abstract geometric planes & games

and vaporize the one who prays

april licorice

dreams, virtuality – sleep, void
             the repressed part of a rule which ensures that the rule does not work

i, god

             how can anyone be against me when there is no i to be against?

creation, evolution

             the myth of the black rose that will never be black

living, the city, talking, humans

             coddled cosmopolitanism

poetry allsorts

             perception is only a hallucination that is true

fear & apathy

             if fear is a wave and apathy a particle, aren’t they bound in their travels in the black light of time?

conversations at yet another netherbar

          featuring
                i’m going to get a drink
                                and
                what do you do?

some thoughts at the end of the daodejing

                exuberant namelessness, dissolute virtue –
                                a bridge to the caprice, laughter, and vital deconstructioning of Chuang Tzu

returning to returning

                the i i step in is not the i i stand in

council of i intro bios

                throneless identity:  the body as cacophonous conference room for spirits