dao de jing xii

the five colours make a human’s eyes blind

riding and hunting make its mind go wild with excitement

goods hard to come by serve to hinder its progress

the five tastes injure a human’s palate

the five notes make its ears deaf

hence in her rule the sage is for the belly not for the eye

therefore he discards the one and takes the other

dear twelves,

feed the people. don’t let them get hungry or thirsty. give them clean water and sufficient shelter. provide them with entertainment poking fun at remote leaders and providing hope that the human will become something other than itself. show them love as some soft cuddly attainable thing. separate good and evil and let the former vanquish. mute their senses and dull their minds. put them in front of screens from the earliest age and in desks as soon as possible. teach them to behave and to be good citizens and not to question too much and to obey authority and to put actions in one place and words in another, for such compartments are necessary for an orderly life. destroy wildness and incarcerate enthusiasm. blind vision and make values tools of sedation. let education be a process of conformity and the home a fortress of coddled fear. numb all excess and thinking, eradicate the imagination, discard vitality

indulge your appetites, enforce order, and adapt your behaviour, emotions, attitudes and thoughts to the dominant social environment in which you find yourself

work it out that on occasion when a true work of art or an outsider of some sort manages to get past the barriers of acceptability and be heard that their subversive messages and forms will be transformed through money and abstraction such that they will not be heard, that through their success they will be brought into the happiness of the dominant, and the people will laugh at themselves without realizing it or effecting any change

dao de jing xi

thirty spokes share one hub

make the nothing therein appropriate

and you will have the use of the cart

knead clay in order to make a vessel

make the nothing therein appropriate

and you will have the use of the clay vessel

cut out doors and windows in order to make a room

make the nothing therein appropriate

and you will have the use of the room

thus we gain by making it something

but we have the use by making it nothing

dear elevens,

here’s a life goal for the dispossessed and innovative: describe the procedures and policies of making nothing appropriate. write a manual. develop curricula. institute degrees and esteemed places of higher learning. compose a society, careers, aesthetic and mystical subversions, religions and laws, the corollary outcast and imprisoned and abused and unacceptably alternative. write a novel describing it. form a political party promoting it. die defending it

a little bit extreme though, isn’t it, for any relations between something and nothing – which, after all, are just everything and are here, existing, in my aubergine and spectacles

tyana

look at the old man piss

it bibbles and spurts like a hose with leaks in it

bet he thinks every time he takes it out of the old days

when his gush was firm and strong

when there was no doubt in his urine

and his cock held its head tall like the king of a microstate

just move your ass a little closer to my nose will you honey  you know i like to see your dimples wiggle when you blast one of your smelly ones into my holes

its coming  its coming  those beans and beer are going to make it good   i feel it all squishy and juicy as its partying through the pipe  oh yeah  yeah  the sphincters ready  here it is

oh honey  that was your best one in years  you do them so good  if you feel another one of those coming can you do like you do and pinch my nose with your ass cheeks and blow it right up  its so full and dual that way

youre dirty sweety poo  thats why i love you so much

look at him  the old man

wonder how he does it in public washrooms

if he uses a cubicle to hide his pathetic dribble

or if he covers the spurty spittle with his hand

while he whizzes beside a young thing  prince of piss  whose fire hose is sure and violent

like his cum

when the young cum it is like jupiter shooting the milky way from its gaseous brain

when the old cum it is like puss oozing from an abscess

oooh i feel another one

stick it on my nose

let your nose and my asshole be baucis and philemon

let them be entwined as a foul myth of nature

look  he strokes it

grip my nose harder honey  let my nose be a hard dick nestled in the dirty nest of your hole

it takes so long for him to get it hard

its grown only a centimetre

its a ritual he cant give up but has forgotten what its for

the old should die

we should shove them all into a closet of the internet and save this stupid expense celebrating the only reality  the glorious march of civilization

except those who have money

and give most of it to us

who can help us clamber onto stages of domination

then shove them ruthlessly aside like the marionettes they are

and well become

but lets not talk of that

no

the sun of your ass is on the earth of my face now

they gaze upon one another like lovers

it is coming

better than heroin

better than love

better than death

oh vesuvius and 911

oh art and power

let it fly like the gods on the wings of forgetfulness

i take it up me like nutmeg and lavender

i give it up like a mother her newborn

oh beelzebub and golding

oh jewels of your waste

hes achieved it

it is hard

or rather not hard but with the appearance of hard

a young mans is like freshly made steel  rigid and true

an old mans is like an overused stretched rubber band made from a colonial massacre

will he climax or will it be like last time

the edges of frustration and failure  the lineaments of his life in the waning of a dick

i think hes going to make it

look  a sheen appears on the tip

and his face contorts like the massacred dead

it appears

the simulation of a life force

it reaches his navel

an achievement

it pools like the piss of dogs

ooh  he eats it

hes a pig  like all the old

except those who worship us and give us money

i bet he hopes he offs as he cums

as he sticks his weary prick in the polluted soil of a forest

and a bear molests him from behind

these the fantasies of the depleted

release my nose now  it is finished

yes my darling  let us rise and have breakfast delivered

and face our days of happy dominion

i love you more than all the universes and all the parallel universes

and i love you too honey bear  more than all the genocides and hypocrisies

we are beautiful together

we walk handinhand to the cruel glory of our fates

dao de jing x

when carrying on your head your perplexed bodily soul can you hold in your arms the one and not let go?

in concentrating your breath can you become as supple as a baby?

can you polish your dark mirror and leave no blemish?

in loving the people and bringing life to the state are you capable of not resorting to knowledge?

when the gates of heaven open and shut are you capable of keeping to the role of the female?

when your discernment penetrates the four quarters are you capable of not resorting to knowledge?

it gives them life and rears them

it gives them life without claiming to possess them

it is the steward yet exercises no authority over them

such is called dark virtue

dear tens,

isn’t the answer to all six questions, no? and how could there be a yes other than among those anachronistic gurus and enlightenment charlatans, who uphold a light virtue, a knowable goodness, a complete knowledge, an effective practice. we are all dao and one and two and three and many. we are polypolar, each of us, and those who process their innumerabilities into a mask of monism walk against dao and even if their names are nailed to some wall of honour yet they will not survive in the coded dream. true, some are more of dao or one, some more of two or three, some more of many and dao, and such is diversity

but show me the one who holds the one and does not let go. not the one who claims but the one who does not. not the one who manages appearances and performs that magic but the one in its everythingness, in all its unseenness. anyone with a bit of practice can become supple for a moment, maybe a day. but suppleness held becomes a rigidity. the act of polishing is itself a blemish and the dark mirror shows nothing – that ruse. loving and governing are actions. the role of the female has been rolled. we now don't know and know enough to know of the knowing of not knowing and the not knowing of knowing. i play with words you say. words play with me. there is no other play. and even the stages of cruelty and absurdity and gesture are plays of words, words bare and marrow, spurting their ruthless truths

yes i am capable. yes i can hold and become. yes i can not know and keep and love. even as i play a fool of dirty energy and cast the shifting cast of my wandering breath, unfocused and confused, across the mirrors of myself

for the only one is the one we cannot grasp, being too many ourselves, possessing myriad hands at diverse purposes, having become comprised of a limitless knowledge bound by flesh's merciless spherical court, its shadowy walls, gloamed lighting, its axe

the river rushes faster as it nears the ocean. and who could stay still in the current? who could be silent in the ever-open theater of words? 

oh you of daoless dao – for dao is too far from us now (and was as soon as it was uttered) – who slips and doesn’t resort, whose blemishes are uncountable and unmeasured … we cannot see your virtue, we do not know your name, we cannot walk your way