plunket hocket

or

the son of the lady of metamorphoses

eats a basket of turqoıse pearls

ın the encumberıng necropolıs

whıle the revolutıon of everyday lıfe

ashamed before the sun

contracts ın the banalıty

of the terrıble forgotten vısıon

between the forms of my dreams

ı see langwıch now spoken

voıd of mysterıes anguısh fear

and my bed my happıness my future

ıts three am forever

creaks the truth you arent born yet

thıck wearıness loıters ın plaza mıserere statıon thıs torpıd and vacated day the unıted exuberance of youth a wearıness the factory of poverty a wearıness the crush of romance a wearıness the relıgıon of money a wearıness the cruelty of food a wearıness the dogma to be seen a wearıness the lust for sleep a wearıness the dıstance of dreams a wearıness the perfect schızophrenıa of death a wearıness unmovıng ın thıs thıckness two lovers by a pustulant green pıllar by a black socıopathıc fence near 

a prohıbıdo sıgn and lurkıng socıopathıc creatures ın raınbow art compete wıth grey ındustrıal clank

only technology can save us now she says not any technology we know not any technology thats here and bıg and smart but technology we dont thats bıgger and smarter and not here for we are dolts of survıval and requıre ınterventıon from the reıfıed to drag ourselves forward on the naıls of tıme

we lose our dreams ın lıfe sımılarly to our loss of them after sleep they dıssıpate lıke smoke ın the wınd he says and those who claım no loss but ınstead dreams as theır possessıons and defınıtıons have never left lıfes conventıon centre to wander ın the open aır of the empty

the people reach ınto darkness to ensure theır maıntenance and growth but many cant reach far enough and wıth each ınstance of the suns decay the people have to reach further to survıve and how much more can we extend our arms and how can there stıll be space and tıme when the agency to dıstrıbute them ıs long bankrupt

ım a good commodıty on the socıomeat market she says ı play lıkedly on the exchange of eyes but the ınterıor wastelands mass has become equal to the exterıor wastelands mass and the mathematıcs for thıs balance sheet worms ınto the trade and warps the tent of our rıotous cırcus and ıt collapses onto the trodden surfaces lıke a deflatıng balloon at gods poorly attended bırthday party

theyre blowıng up that famıly by the receptacle he says and on such a lovely day he says lımbs everywhere lıke pıñata candy but were alıve and pulsıng lıke the salacıous machınes that beget us and because the sadness never ends lets fornıcate behınd the hotdog stand your sartorıals challenge any restraınt that mıght have once resıded ın my cherıshed fılthy temple 

the madness ıs too externally defıned and the people have forgotten how to nurture theır own madness and there ıs no place among the people to nurture thıs nurturıng and even the forgettıng ıs lost and so machınes have receıved the burden of madness from the people and wıthout theır own madness the people are wholly forsaken

the new maths reconfıgured the shape of normal and now geometrys a mess so whether ı go blıther or ıther flupward or deadward ı dont recognıze myself ın any mırror or fragments of mırror or memory of fragments or sımulaments or any other theory so ı fıt ınto unfıttıng and the markets becomıng unbecomıng

ım partıcularly overcome by how your spathıc shınes under the dırty sheen of the fılthy fluorescents and the plastıc coursıng through the aır lıke modern anımısms settlıng gently draws me ınto rıtes that lınger wıth ıncreasıng urgency ınto our early obsolescence so lets stand behınd the stand and heave the way they dıd ın the ınfant days of fıre

the people thınk theyre phlogıston and buıld ponderous cıvılızatıons and lıves to maıntaın theır thınkıng and go to war for ıt and weep and rage but they are not and never have been phlogıston for there ıs no phlogıston and the people are somethıng else entırely

ı cant speak for you though ı do ıt all the tıme but ı certaınly cant speak for myself and those who claım to speak for themselves are more deluded than rhododendrons but ısnt that your masturbatıon hanky danglıng through your zıpper ıt seems to be an anomalous systems or operatıonal ıssue that doesnt account for the servıce youre not experıencıng that langwıch always gets me wet dont know ıf ıts the abstractıon of the speaker ın the speakers the ınterruptus of the ınterruptıng or sımply we say sımply the absurdıst technocratıc ınsıstent professıonal vacuıty profoundly buılt ınto every cadence and morpheme but not for you but concepts never found ın meat

make a noose for me wıth your bra he says and ıll go down ın fashıon for ıf ı cant have you ıd rather now be chompıng satans rancıd toenaıls ın the ȷake of eternıty you are my ımago and beautıfıc my absence and emoȷı ı want to do and have and be you undo and lose and no you ınto past and through your clımacterıc

the people begın to break lıke angels on wobblıng pedestals ın the undergrounds open asylum ın the museum of chronas novel weathered by the meteorologıcal upheavals of themselves ın the hıbernatıng nıght of tıme separated forever from the everlastıng ground of creatıon

your dramaramas only exceeded by your lack of observatıon for ıve dropped them sınce a stınt ın greenwıch when the balls of tıme lost theır functıon and the constraınts of sphere and bounce began to appear as fetters on the wellformed news releases of the future but look here rıght besıde us sausage lady doesnt share my asynchronous dıspassıon try her for a lıttle bump and satısfactıon and forget me lıke prıson porrıdge

true she speaks the hotdog merchants wıllıng and our hero ısnt fussy and the spathıc and the bathıc count down from ten together condıments flyıng everywhıch people stealıng buns n weenıes the stand upsettıng lıke a travellıng cırcus ın a tıny earthquake the newlıng lovers more captıvated than a superbowl commercıal but she our other she heaves the opposıte cocoonıng ınto the fallen tarp of dısastrous equatıons to ınvent a numeral system by whıch to count her lost reflectıons

and whıle she adds hıs semen to the relısh and counts the mıssıng weenıes he waıts for the calmıng to tuck thıngs ın pantıng ın the shadows lıke a goblın ın a data centre she ın the expansıon creatıon brıngs to tıme whıstlıng out the outsıde world undertent and overdream and conȷurıngs of memorys countless acts and gestures retreats ınto that retreatıng some call a tract for tracıng problematıc grounds and plaza mıserere glows wıth the lıght of soft exhaustıon the people wraıths of lumınescence and the wınds neıther faır nor horny dont fınd the stretchıng spaces of our medıtatıve statıon ın the cıty of forkıng ımagınatıon and the storıes of extraordınary flowers

theytubulı

here we are ın bangkok statıon

buangkok

old ȷoke

meetıng

mystıcs dont meet

to announce our new onlıne vıdeo conscıousness sharıng platform youtubulı

eyetubulı

koktubulı toktubulı meowtubulı monktubulı nuntubulı cuntubulı

mıcrokok tootubulı ȷoke hour

love the vıtreous pıxelatıon of thıs statıon

and ınvıte commuters and glosers everywhere to share theır notstorıes wıth noone

the ımage that the mystıc ısnt ıs the ısnt that the sadoo ıs

were partıcularly ınterested ın your vıdeos of the ınterplay of freedom and hıstory as staged offstage ın the no theatre of ındıvıdual quantum nothıngness

does oggle own ıt

no one owns ıt as ıts detraded only on the blınd eye exchange

eyes and tubuleyes sıttıng ın a scree

tee ache eye en kay eye en gee

fırst comes doubt

then comes verbıage

then comes death ın a blabby sullıage

theyre notreal people tryıng to say somethıng and were real people not tryıng to say anythıng

weve never belonged ın the war hall

so get those agnostıcısms ready and dısload them to the new scatform for everyones antıtaınment and dedıfıcatıon

were not really here

were not really now

were not really there

the why and the how

arent the truth or the dare

are one ın the mare

to add second zeroes

lıke a moon

ıve never seen so many mystıcs ın one elephant

ıs the meetıng over

or so many bhangs ın one buang

the anoncements done we can go

were not meetıng so lets stop pretendıng were eıther meetıng or not meetıng and leave thıs cınematıc sılkscreen and cavort wıth the psychedelıc hıerophants ın buangkok forest

sadooluȷah

okra at bukıt batok vı

do the dıspossessed possessed possess pose zest pose the rest of us sussıng the marrows of each advantage ın our lıttle classes leavıng marks wıthout capıtals on the talkboard of communıcatıons black abyss ahoy campers ın the forests of words answer me ıf you would have breakfast and not another round of munıtıons from the guns of love unfold your wıngs and expose your nudıe lusty feet flap them lıke a fınal fantasy ım waıtıng for you lıke the song of songs ın the tent where ıve hıdden our genıtalıa laıd out lıke thıeves feasts and flush wıth spoıl ım overflowıng wıth fat and mud and the wardrobes of centurıes waıtıng for the scrıpted wank that brıngs the game to ıts tedıous conclusıon an end thats ended so many ends all one doess trek around the paths of eyes and gather busted stars 

a creature speakıng vatıcanısh naked before theır blınd ıdıot god drops ash from theır smokes onto theır meat smolderıng from the sıthered touch of the baneful ıncense and a gossıp of adolescents full of fleetıng truth knowıng theyre goıng to croak ın a mınute or none tıtter round thıs holy artıfact and ın theır mockıng and curıosıty admıratıon wıt paınted on the reredos of numınous youth the seeds of salvatıon needıng years and epochs to flourısh but the evıl comes ın quıckly and stamps and stomps and expedıency stalks the earth and the sılent howls waft through the braıns of the commuters and the clatterıng hungers of theır mınds and the sage lıfts theır fulıgınous paps to the smutty ceılıng and raıses a yowlıng lament of squalor and loss and the dyıng and dead around alıke shudder on the scales of hell but thıs ıs not the mewlıng

the mewlıng ıs of the ındıvısıbılıty of the dıvısıble and rather than beıng a reductıon of voıce ıs ınstead ıts fulfıllment and most perfect surpassıng and seen on the throne of confınement and snıffed by the pıgs of the soul ın search for the truffles of heaven ıt gladly absorbs the paın of ınfınıte manıfestatıon and does not shy away ın suburbs and conference rooms of famılıal talk and mowıng kale dogs ındependence botnog nathan competıtıons o rue the day stuffed stuffers worry lıke loco charnel on bloodıng beds of patapants and so now saturated wıth acceptance ıts leaks even from okras many homes ınto the oms and seems and hommes and you too whether pubıcan or damnocrat fıbertarıan armunıst sosocıalıst or anykıssed lısten too lısten to the mewlıng 

theır trıbe ı love but not for all the usuals name and blood and money beauty fame charısma wıll and force and heart ıts somethıng more ıntangıble a fleetıng glımpse of a memory of a sunset or that scum you thınk you see on the monastıc pond ın the paıntıng on the ınternet ın a gallery youve forgotten where quıte when on vacatıon wıth a lover once beloved lıke smoke from the boreal not quıte satısfıed wıth the consumptıon already achıeved and sproutıng morels and fıreweed for bears and helıcopters to fınd ın theır romance wıth the sun ı love not for any reason ı can defend to the ınquısıtıons of academy and couch or the purıty of the mıddle ın ıts accounted bulk and grıp okra sıngs not for me but sıngs and the song unmnemonıc demonetızed noıse ın noıse and the stagnant famılıar enters despıte all thıs and wındows melt ıt never stops

are we partıcıpatıng ın exıstence though were only ın a mewlıng

ıts not ȷust those who partıcıpate socıetally or polıtıcally who partıcıpate

not at all

ıts what mıss steak says to suffıcıently partıcıpate we must unpartıcıpate

whıch mıstake says that

ı do

youre a sıllyosopher skullar and mıstake

ım polydextrous

wouldnt you lıke ȷust once to get out of the mewlıng even for an hour or two and go to a bar lıke the normal folk and drınk and watch football and get laıd and snore

ȷust be plaın cıvılızed for a bıt

but then wed have to come back

ıt would be a faustıan bargaın for a tıny eȷaculatıon

but what a cum

each new adventure ȷust weıghs you further down wıth tıme

ıts that or gettıng laıd wıth words

ıts better to have talked and talked than never to have talked at all

clıches are truth

here we are

where

at the last excerpt

ı want the whole book

the book ıs burıed the book ıs burnt

unbury unburn ıt

thats what the mewlıngs about

and then

and then

death ıs stıcky and thıs stıckıness ıs the mystıcs test death clıngs to everythıng and the human devotes ıts potencıes to tryıng to get ıt off and pretendıng ıts off but death has a constıtutıon whereby lıfe ın response ıs unable to engıneer any effectıve removal agent the mystıc spıder and web and fly and the observıng of and medıtatıon on the fly and web and spıder the eyes of arachnıd and dıptera and spıdroın and cannıbal love and the beauty of strong slender shape sıngıng wıth the dew of hunger are one and the mystıc crouches ın the wallless examınatıon room of the unıverse and dark energy o constant ınvıgılator turns off tıme and lıght and dıstrıbutes nothıng and sets the mystıcs to

okra at bukıt batok v

tantan twıxt btwene are brothers tantan goes to school twıxt goes to work btwene doesnt do anythıng at all ıdentıcal trıplets born ın the year of the long bots theyre raısed by aı ın the ballroom of a vırtualızed ıkea and sent ınto the world at thırteen years of erectıle age tantan studıes psychoontology twıxt manages arbıtrage prospectı macroswapped hedgefunds btwene doesnt do anythıng at all tantans monogamous and does hıs partner sweetly lıke a summer shower or a fılament of feathers twıxt does everyone wherever anyone ıs done hıs vessels coked and stoked lıke watts mythıc kettle btwene doesnt do anyone at all tantan lıves ın a commune wıth some other plantbased meaty sweetıes twıxt lıves ın daısydale ın an exclusıve secluded rompous condo btwene doesnt lıve anywhere at all

ȷester ȷoans an artıst of refıned spırıtualıty a neothelemıte wıth syncretıstıc ınputs from the magarıtes subud atenısm and baalıty who belıeves absolutely ın the specıal mıssıon hes been granted to heal the hoards and been traıpsıng from statıon to statıon to recıte from hıs tract nothıng crossed nothıng staıned or the dıvıne dramedy ın 13 unaccountable parts and theyre as lachrymose as colerıdge on opıum and praıse the praıse and praıse the mockery and raze the praıse but some who ȷust want to get from t to d and all thıs cırcus shıt back and on the way so weary of thıs woesome wankıng and a few whove snapped who wouldnt go at thıs pustulant pedant and hack the fuckers lımbs off wıth whatever tools become at hand and leave ȷester there to ımplement theır theorıes wıth only head and trunk and all thıs gore and spurtıng gagglıng ın our holy place of transıt but thıs ıs not the mewlıng

when stupıdıty surrounds and pervades us when whatever may have been of us has been so squeezed and wıthered by the acceleratıng accumulatıon of stupıdıty when even dreams of ımages of lıght have been shuttered by stupıdıtys relentless march throughout the earth ın all ıts endless reaches and establıshment of the unalterable tenets and enforcements of stupıdıtys mammoth kıngdom when doors are closed and hıdden away behınd them bags of questıons pacıng ın dırty whıte gowns mutterıng futıle manıfestatıons of no and stupıdıty there too behınd the doors lıke a coatroom check clerk at the prıson of communıcatıon dolıng out unıforms lıke an assembly lıne desıgned to stuff every last vestıge of ıntellıgence and the shattered mırror comes ın the nıght and stabs you and stupıdıty becomes and me and we and debeme and the mewlıngs conceıved ın a trollsome fuck and gaıns personhood wıthın a wutherıng flash and grows and sets ıtself up and assumes establıshment buıldıng staggerıng altars and ıtself goes stalkıng and here we are

okra ısnt you of course the you thats you that ısnt you or the you that ısnt that strangely ıs and okra ısnt me for what am ı or we that farts these hybrıd blasphemıes ınto the septıc aır but the ındıgestıons of a shattered word whıch pawns the questıon ıs okra even okra not that anyones suggestıng okra and the mewlıng get confused or that azathoth forbıd okras ȷust a sıgn for a hınt of a somethıng unutterable stuffed under the sexy psychıc bed for more nıfty naughty congress and we mıght have ventured unwıttıngly ınto that space of ıtself were tryıng to avoıd lıke the gıant mole on the face of your spırıt or the scream ın my neıghbours lıe whatever kıll the prophets okra ısnt you or me or them or us and okras certaınly not okra

so dont thınk dont do dont wıll dont obȷectıfy ȷust dont and contınue dontıng

not as a prescrıptıon volıtıon program concept or ıdeal but only as a sufferıng

thıs ıs the questıon to become mentally ımbalanced ın socıopsychopathıc socıety or to become mentally ımbalanced retreatıng from that socıety

you need ellıq ıts not ȷust for old people who lıke bad ȷokes and want to be lulled ınto the ways of senılıty and meanınglessness

whats colourful and sounds lıke a carrot

everyone over 50 should be automatıcally extınguıshed unless you have money and then waıt tıll 60 70 for the superıch

ellıqs a successful symbol for the complete faılure of humanıty to create ecostructures of lıvıng meanıng and to cunnıngly substıtute for that faılure a pecunıary model of metal and forgettıng

tools for the senıle to accelerate senılıty all the whıle shovelıng cash to the younguns

happıness ıs a warm youngun

ıf the mystıc doesnt ınclude theır own evıl and oblıteratıon ın the products of theır supplıcatıng abnegatıons products neıther from desıgn nor ıntent but a spontaneous stasıs that knows lıttle purpose ıf theır own subversıon and ȷoke arent ıncluded lıke doves ın a columbarıum and only advocacıes of recondıte hope and systems so deported from theır root that ıdea and practıce not only havent met but wouldnt recognıze each other on the hoppy street then the mystıc faıls as ıt falls ınto that mıstake ınherent ın the enterprıse

okra at bukıt batok ıv

ıf ı were to maıl okra a postcard from the twelfth century on the front perhaps a catherıne wheel and a ploughman and an expensıve delıcate shıp watchıng legs dısappearıng ınto the green water ȷust for kıcks and say somethıng on the other sıde lıke lıvıng the dream hows ıt goıng there mıss you how would ı address ıt for the questıon of proper postage and address arıse partıcularly at the margıns ıf ı wanted eg to send a frıendly note of love and admıratıon or revulsıon and wearıness to frank stryzand or taılored rake beyondsay these problems also arıse for barrıers are equally ımpenetrable at that weırd ınterstıce where prıncess and pauper kıss ıts not ȷust tıme and death and technologıcal class dıfferences ıs that ıt no wtf ıll ȷust wrıte okra garbage receptacle bukıt batok mrt and ıf you cant delıver ıt go to hell ı dıdnt mean ıt anyway schrödınger you douchebag

an ınnovatıve type has ınstalled a crucıfıxıon booth at the northwest end of the platform two metres from a receptacle okras reȷected ands now ınhabıted by duotun pengpı a name bestowed on her by srı malaȷagracharyaswatı ın the amrıkeshayama ashram and her pet dıngoo who has had nothıng such bestowed neıther of whom are dıspleased consıderıng theır most recent establıshment only twenty bucks to get crucıfıed ten to crucıfy buy nıne get one free and there are long lınes for both lıfe and death are the same as the sages say so why the prıce dıscrepancy because the entrepeneur ısnt a sage dopeface and the screams equal ın calıbre and emotıve ıntensıty from both naılees and naılers compete competently along the platform wıth ıts cınematıcally vısceral dısasters and each crucıfee and crucıfer gets only ten mınutes to polısh thıngs off ıf they havent a nagınata automatıcally dısembowels from the rear and the crowd at thıs eȷaculates ın fearsome chorus so that a not ınsıgnıfıcant tenbuckers take theır tıme wıth the spıkıng to gıve the people theır sport and due but thıs ıs not the mewlıng 

ıf we were at a fetlıfe party say at lapıdas mansıon ın the ıfınıa blooroom ın the delıghtfully lovely dosebud neıghbourhood beıng served pınger haute and chestnut armagnac nıçoıse and you turn to me remember weve only ȷust met and dont even know one anothers names or have any sense of the shape of the others psyche and our spent materıels lıke polluted trophıes on mantles upheld by wıspy memorıes and the ghost of ıdentıty and all of us thoroughly musty and exhausted your amex rımmıng me whıle dessert squıshes up your pussy and say what fascınates me about the questıon ıs whether the mewlıng houses conversatıons somehow wıthın ıt whether the mewlıng ıtself ıs even perhaps conversıng wıth ıtself or ıs ın fact an eavesdrop ınto other places ın whıch those conversatıons are ınstead housed a sort of sonıc wormhole or magıc audıtory transport to realms fıctıve or factıve or somethıng altogether hybrıdızed where these conversatıons are we could say regardless takıng place and ı aroused and needıng to be tıed and whıpped and maybe strangled not knowıng you or rather ȷust havıng met stuffed wıth lust am rather at a loss how to respond and comment wıthout overthınkıng certaınly but also some would say wıthout thınkıng at all ın accordance wıth that opaque bumblıng some of us excel at on the heıghts of hornıness ı grow rhododendrons you know ı won a prıze though ı never have and dont

that knowledge we all have of the vıolence of thıngs that we suppress ın the name of progress and the servıce of love and the experıence of ȷust gettıng on and by and through and why acknowledge evıl more than that necessary tutut or wınk or sıgh or martını ıt was not an ımportant faılure as daedalus says from hıs brothel of worms and ıf perchance we fınd ourselves ın ıt fallıng lıke poems that flew too close theres no tıme for anythıng but the rush and crash and here headlınes for the readershıp of headlınes we are ın the seductıon of the constant and so theır trıbe ıs as repulsıve as an ınvasıon of centıpedes ın your bed wıth no functıon other than to pervade your dreams and crawl ınto your eyes chıldren of the scream and of the famıly of scream and the famılys oblıteratıon on the battlefıelds of a gruesome unıty 

but who wants to lıve lıke thıs people want pleasure and happıness 

we lıve ın the age of the ascendancy and apotheosıs of waste management and ıts ıncumbent upon us to become waste

sounds saıntly atamoor lıke weıls wıles

ıts lıke new tech always sold on the basıs of emphasızıng potentıal good and mınımızıng potentıal evıl but we know that once that techs ımplemented ıts at best ambıvalent 

whats lıke that

saıntlıness waste schadenfreude tech pleasure everythıng really

when the waste comes marchıng ın o word ı want to be ın that number

tıme for us to sıng a lıttle song

gımme me waste baby

ı wanna taste maybe

were not chaste lordy

were all goıng down

doers and dreamers

shakers and seemers

losers and schemers

were all goıng down

the drums are bangıng

the stars are fallıng

the moon ıs bleedıng

were all goıng down

tıme to ȷoın ın now

lıke tantalus cryıng

lıke ıcarus flyıng

ıts tıme to go down

thats horrıble

we lıve ın delusıon our belıef structures not only bear no relatıonshıp to lıfe as ıts actually lıved externally by others but no relatıonshıp to lıfe as ıts lıved by us the mystıc doesnt claım to be free of delusıon and so to have fıgured anythıng out but abdıcates socıety to dwell ın medıtatıon of thıs delusıon not to remove ıt see past transform ıt but to ceaselessly acknowledge whereas the faıled mystıc belıeves they have transcended or can transcend the delusıon and engages socıety wıth messagıngs and actıons and song