copula cupola

here is a day

a day is a poem

a poem is a dream

a dream is a day

here are you

you are notyou

notyou is an i

an i is a question

here is death

death is a doubt

a doubt is a bird

a bird is a vision

there is a song

resembling a doubt

hiding in me

and i in a day

eimei nijūhasshūku

free me from science

not that i can believe stupid things

but so poetry can find a ground in me

free me from facts

not that i can misrepresent abuse

but so those fictions that guide life can be seen

free me from humans

not that i can live wholly apart

but so i can hear the stories of trees and clouds

free me from technology

not that i can ignore currency

but so i can remember nakedness

free me from time

not that i can escape death

but so i can feel creation

syncategorematic : an opsecro hercle habent quas gallinae manus

we’re all in the cosmic kitchen together cooking energy pancakes

when teleology is finally annihilated – this most difficult death – will ends finally have ended?

the spirit energies i can take. it’s the human energies

                  but human energies are just spirit energies particularly configured

but it’s the dominance of these particularities that offend me – their preponderance over the multiplicities of voices

                  but

but

                  but

but

                  … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

eso esoteros esotatos

esoteric esotatic

esotericism esotaticism

within – more within – most within

they’re the kind of people i’d like to be if i were those kind of people

s(t)imulate me

woe to humans for you shall be replaced by machines and shall lose your humanity

woe to consumers for youve sucked the earth almost dry

woe to advertisers for youve made an art of deception and manipulation and are cursed to wander as cynics in a herd of dupes

woe to movers and shakers for youve moved to outer space making aliens of yourselves and have shaken the peasants from their slumber endangering your material foundations to which they tend

woe to environmentalists for you love wild animals that wouldnt hesitate to eat you for breakfast

woe to americans for your time has nearly come to join the legions of peasants in other lands whom youve squeezed and exploited since the end of the second world war

and woe to antiamericans for your sanctimonious rage betrays the ugly american within you

woe to liberals for theres no longer faith in your wornout myths and youve become scholastics idling until the next renaissance

woe to conservatives for your talk of oldfashioned utopia is a smokescreen for a return to the primitive state wherein the dominators succumb to the temptations of godhood are swiftly corrupted by their power and drag their slaves down with them

woe to you professional philosophers for your title is an oxymoron  a lover of knowledge must cower in angst rather than adjust to the horrors of nature to make of philosophy an academic field of study for charlatans pseudoscientists and bored young transients in colleges that have turned into mere businesses

woe to the gods for theyve failed to grace us with their existence

woe to monotheists for you have poor taste in fiction

woe to optimists for you dishonour the multitudes that have fallen

woe to pessimists for you waste your life in grief

woe to hollywood for your creativity is as bankrupt as that of the chinese market you seek to plunder with remakes and superheroic trivialities which market is a giant ravenous copying machine

woe to the computer for digitization drains the value from that which is encoded and the internet and the smartphone erase the humanity from their addicted users

woe to pornography for it proves that sex is a ridiculous spectacle

woe to sex for its pleasures must be kept secret to preserve the sophisticates illusion of superiority

woe to the large for it is comprised of myriad small things and is at their mercy

woe to the small for it is confined within the behemoth and is blind to the latters grandeur

woe unto the earth for once it has killed off the wise apes there shall be none to cry foul at its monstrosity

and woe to dabblers in prophecy who pilfer the language of the fictional jesus which has become a cliché

technogyrovagia

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western formal philosophy (and associated analytics) increasingly advanced moves in a puerile game

riverrun of a species

glomming to itselfies

like hot cheese

 writing an aestheticized stream of consciousness journal

describing in code the movements of a soulworld complex

communication

key to a forgotten door

hope of the humans

 as the human emigrates from nature immersion and immigrates to technological rhythms it requires an increasing battery of diverse drugs to adapt its fleshsoul conglomerate to these new and demanding environs. its grand and petty experiment is whether a species – this one – can use prosthetics – which ones? these? at what penalties costs joys? – to sign the monstrous avenues being built across the growing voids

                  and whether a species fragmentation – not dissimilar to what happened religiously in the reformation – is occurring  separating the drugfree (but are there truly any left? is it not now just many drug sects battling each other?) and the prostheticized

the gnomic homeless

speak in lonely fricatives

light our hard margins