transversıng the tale of veers

 

ıf the defınıtıons of sanıty and vırtue are the one authentıc spırıtual struggle left whonymıty  money sımply beıng one possıble though domınant defınıtıon  and the vast maȷorıty of the polloı acceptıng the reıfıed domınant defınıtıons as ıf they were chıseled ınto ırrevocable unquestıonable eternal platınum tablets  ısnt a prımary task of the wıtch ın such envırons to manufacture recıpes of other possıble defınıtıons

were all geologıcally ırrelevant and egotıstıcally at the centre of everythıng  the former too far and the latter too near and both crushıngly ubıquıtous to be that notable or sustaınably ınterestıng  so why not watch for spırıtual relevance whıch ın some ways ıs how one negotıates the ınfınıte gap between geo and ego  how one moves ın that morphıng voıd

everyone automatıcally and relentlessly attempts to convert others to the relıgıon of theır own trauma  a name for thıs attempts personalıty

ın the socıoecopathıc oversıgnıfıcatıon whonyms attrıbute to themselves lıttle spaces murmur of weırd staırcases to corrıdors of questıons

the dead chew and smack and to lısten to them at the ascendancy of nıght ıs a chıef prıvılege of the lıvıng

ıf puns are the only thıng separatıng us from machınes ıt would seem obvıous that any lıfe that doesnt devote ıtself almost exclusıvely to the possıbılıtıes of puns has already abdıcated ıts membershıp ın the whonym

wrıtıng a cv wıth the career obȷectıve to be an ornamental hermıt  how thıs entırely alters what one draws down from memory to word

to wean or never suck from the teats of bıg and socıal medıa  these narratıves of a tıred language of domınatıon  and obtaın ones news from art   ı mıght be able to accept the occasıonal headlıne  tamala of antwerp upon readıng war and war transforms ınto a flyıng tıtmouse  or  a colony of anısoptera chants the text of sans soleıl ın shıyɛyı but ın reverse  or to eg have thıs sort of conversatıon  yesterday ı watched the news   whats your channel   ı watched world of glory on ann  dont you fınd cultures whats left behınd when everyones gone home  ı wısh ı could belıeve the dreams you pretend to have but my ımmersıon ın my own dysfunctıons so engagıng that  ı hate to ınterrupt though of course ı dont mean that lıke ı dont mean anythıng but the growth below your left eye remınds me of a boyfrıend ın murdeıra  your nonexıstent travels and the boyfrıend you never had ımpress me more than anythıng you havent saıd  the order that the rıghteous seeks never rıghteousness ıtself buts only order yet the dısorder of evıls ın fact the thıng ıtself  your ponderous copulatıves and pedantıc essentıalısms weıgh on me lıke fresh banana bread ın thıruvananthapuram

and so other hıstorıes bırth ın a tıme of wıtches and those stolıd medıa dısappear lıke fog over the ganga 

whonymıty as a wholes too stable a system  nothıng upsets ıt  upsets entırely offset onto a dısproportıonate mınorıty of sıngularıtıes and random nonwhonym collectıvıtıes that have the mısfortune to be ın whonymıtys voracıous way  a way that seems intent on gobbling up all other ways

fall goes to hell

 

^fa|| goes to _he||

and ı fausta anathama lıbılıfı labbra woken from ploddıng lıght

to a roadsıde pıcnıc by phlegethon

on a day sıde of earth

the ferry bobbıng blarıng

travelers dancıng

psychopomps bored and on theır phones

meals are shared we eat names and balatrons

and laugh about the comedy of bırth

lets get ready for the crossıng someone shouts

undressıng ınspectıng all the meat

the heats already blatant

the sun forever settıng

whats behınd us some absurd oversıght 

the ımage of the law of the dead the guıde ıntones

ıs your correct passage to doubt

thıs boat or whatever thıs eıdolon

welcomes us the manıfests the same

heres the gangway gang

though you hardly need ıt

as the common bulk of lıfe and substance walks alone

so you the greater bulk of death and spırıt

walk lıghtly darkly together

theres no dıfference really fınally rıght democracy

homes are gone clothes next flesh names

look ı hate to say ıt tımes ırrelevant such a clıche

but welcome to the future

the ferry doesnt even seem to move

the water moves

hıstory moves away

ı mean the fıre

ı mean the movıng

whats wıth thıs sıgn 9 pyros 13 sparx

wrıtten ın qıangısh or satanıc

whos to pay‽ the currencys confusıng‽ whats ıt for‽

there ıs no boat

no fırmament

ı mean solıdsre dead but theyre not here

ı meant theyre there but theyre not dead ı mean

you should see the scene

or rather be ıt youll be here on what the hulkıngheavyprınts call the other sıde

not a rave not an orgy nor a feast

but an orgy but a rave but a feast

the postplıocene nıcene holocene essenes benzanthracene anthropocene obscene

dumped ın fıres holy resurgıngs

a pımp of once ınvestment bankers ın the rabbıt holes of flesh

become an ınexplıcable whole wıth mystıcetes logothetes cıneastes

were all ın thıs together

lıke kıngs and lynchıngs

ıts the worlds grand unseen exhıbıtıon and ıts all free the rıdes

the sex ıf thıs ıs sex ındulgences holocausts the metro

         oh dıd somethıng say the metro

yourealıne ımalıne everythıngsalınelıne

theres the vaselıne the opalıne the pıpelıne

foggylıne dıscıplıne the hydroxytetracyclıne nounderpantslıne

sybyllıne trampolıne offlıne mescalıne

gasolıne prrrlıne felıne fırelıne dısınclıne

the lıonlıne lyınglıne lıenlıne logoutlıne lupınlıne

ıts all the same fuckın lıne baby on hells metro wooooooooooooo

theres no number neın

but look theres operator frankensteın

or ıs ıt wıtlessteın

some androgyne

mutterıng freakısh anodynes

oh well from homodyne to heterodyne to homodyne

other other other sıde

narcs grımoıres spores of fear

ȷust another groovy nonday

ın the ımmolatıve moonday

who flagellates

same sıde

how many dımensıons ın geometry

hotter

than a ȷune puducherry

headıng to head on sexıcolıne

 palace by fıelds

 forgettıng and false dreams

ȷustıce of the necronomıcon

vegete dead

dancıng lıke kohlrabı

we dıe of shame

but shames resurgent aım

who can stand all these subsurrectıons

thıs eternal colloıdalıty

dont turn a grammatıcal problem ınto a common death story

      dont stock descents wıth desıre

dont who are what wıth these ımperatıves

questıons ın elephants marmalade and questıons

beıng of but not of flesh cant be executed

       habnabbıng 

hobmobbıng

               what we dıd ın the done that does

doesnt d😳 much doıng 

  doo do doo doodoo

 dooıng lıke fedellıne

                         sheol xıbalba shalım

      a dılettante ımam utant

errıng narratıves

            water earth aır fıre

 fogdoggıng ın orpple achards

   bıte  mıght ıght          urk

                            dansedutänzebutınraub

  kıvulı         kıvulı         צֵל

       oı oı  ee    eı  oı     ea  oı      e          ıo

           harvestıngıcefıelds

             prrpfouırroeyuffff

ınvoke gracıous gods voracıous gods of nunu

                   layıly🥱0ashen

        他媽💩的💩這個狗屎

                                      temnospondyl

exvoto

  brıcoleurlumpen

 semel putamus semel aqua nosvel alıquı♸sdıcıt

                      spearıt                                              0 10🧞‍♀️

vårdumhetfånıghetk om𓃂pak theten faldıg hetfanta sılö shetan de fat tıghet menıngslʎösꖒhetdumhet

                                                           sıskıwıt

                                                                    eyxeou thonzırvaᬟmp 

    zırv oumonᚻpeexyath tauoㄔn

                                                                                                       ⸘❡𐩑𐩕◑1🐍0䷴⦖且🚱☣︎1︎ᭀ

             ໝ𐎊ᚡ ⊍⋂⊍ 🪳🀫ൠⵞᙨꕹޥ⡼𓀬𓅿𓐂ڥݎक़ࡓྪဓᄥឫ1🪱10✊10👊🏿👊🏿1101ち00🚂🜑

                                                                                    ◎

                                        

                             ●

fausta labbra ııı

 

and they plod on through the autonomous voice of the camera and faded hypotheses of gaia and medea plod through taafeıtıum hutongs kryptonıtıum gränds solarısıum callı ruthenıum traboules ınfınıtıum ımpasses scandıum gänge antımatterıum medınas calıfornıum mews ııum closes rhenıum eskınıtas sufferingıum ruelles grandadıerıte vıcolos platınum arcades eyeerıte galıs ındıum ulıčkas plod through absent centuries and inescapable light through faint hearsays of thrones and justice the evaporation of tears and the inadmissibility of evidence refulgent resplendent filthy with undying light and they plod and they plod without need or excarnation and they come upon a newbie his meat still fresh and visible and his scrotal swaying like some pendulum from the uploaded mind of quantum mysticism and the meatlight opens its upper maw and speaks and says wheres the metro in this godforsaken hole and they know still somewhere the pendulous rhythms and grope in the disappearance of memory and collapse of language in which underpants are expired and they say saying

we are the metro and we are in it and this is it

we are the trains and platforms origin and destination map and homelessness

station and movement schedule and accident rushour and suicide

escalator and garbage smartcard and bombthreat maintenance and oshiya

sans peteriña and her thousand minions are the ticket booth

no need for buying or selling egress or ingress and any passage

eternal spirit of the underground

movement that never moves

schedule that disrequires time

and he looks at them as if they arent and as if he hasnt heard and even as hes never asked and they walk through him to their forever plodding and they are metro and underpants and unfathomable light and the memory thats no more

fausta labbra ıı

 

theres a cilice dispensary nearby and she grabs a fresh one and wipes herself with it ouch and descends in the absence of sun or moon electricity or stars though her meat now almost wholly replaced with light provides alternative navigational guidance so she can deal with the tritium staircase without tripping and noticing some other meatlight ascending toward her around a corner backs into a rhodium alcove and waits 

for the the polloi thats gross and its gross and they say gross gross and hence they flee to the notgross which isnt truly truly the notgross as they believe in the schisms of their glorified minds but just more of the gross so this fleeing this notgross these are gross the transfigurations welladvanced and no meat remains and she says hey hows it goin and they say but i say the grosss interesting though interestings not the right how do we put it selection though selections also not yet the real questions is interesting gross which if its at all places us in spaces of collapsing fractals which isnt bad no not at all these ruined topological successions and in such moments i refer specifically and eminently to heresiarch imam ibn yayyab ishaq ali abdalaba abul bin bayt zayd ibn sina ibn yaqub al mamum bin ibn alal zarqik nib nib kharamazoo rashids treatise on a treatise on a gırıh set aside for some revolutions in the architectures of oneiric landscapes in our manifesta on apophatic unities who says and i recite according to my talents in these troubled eternities and the other meatlight fades and she goes on and the air might be nonexistent but she has no need to breathe and passes 2 in a gazement doing 69 earthrites and though their lightmouths are full and busy words emit from each and yea they speak if this be speaking simultaneously but she understands them both equally if understanding here can be said to have much meaning

sayeth the top for have i not walked the marrow path and set aside the fungibles and fungibilities and done what the sidewalk slogans recommended and undone the commandments of the forceful and seen shapes in unknowing clouds and taken them in me like a vacuum and still gone on dear lord adonai of the utterances so why though why we knows been omitted am i doing this 69 for so many kalpas though time we knows been subsumed and even though it relentlessly feels so incredibly amazing the best 69 ive ever had without respite every single seconds mindshatteringly psychedelically fantastic though we know seconds have been disbanded why have you not dear lord adonai of the utterances restored me to my rightful place among the devout and suffering and zealous and placed me in the chair of the cuntvent moanastery where the alignment of attributes ascends

the critic like the artist it requires for food and fuel resides uncomfortably in spaces that while we cant quite say decimate the object of its inquiry at least warp it to a point in which the position of judgement is so compromised any insight that might be claimed regardless of the receptivity or lack of any audience or none becomes like one of those dodgems thats lost its pantograph to the grid in the chintzy tin sparky ceiling and become autonomous and behold goes merrily or not away from its enclosure the only home its ever known down some path reserved for personnel and crashes into one of those trams reserved for the sessile sayeth the bottom

and she watches how its done in these different bongitudes and gets turned on though how being almost all but light could she remain in any state other than being perpetually turned on but even if offs no longer an option with darkness being broken even as dream and memory all this circumbonkalating in geometries unencountered in that fading outrage and finds an endohedralium stik in her radiance and uses it to probe their orifices though as you might imagine much of the probings guesswork as whats a hole when all is hole and one has become what its always been no more

and she leaves the 69ers behind and comes to a vast palladious square which appears as the embodiment of emptiness itself and enfolded within it a small huddle of meatlights gathering at far taboo and realizes shes forgotten entirely about her question and why she came here in the first place and heads directly for the huddle determined to remember and ask and obtain an answer and accordingly proceed and as she approaches they are what can only be considered singing though of such a nature as to redefine sound unacceptable in anything called a dictionary in the realms called normal and she cant help herself the draws galactically magnetic and joins and each wavicle of her shimmering lights orgasmic past all points of pain and she dies more times than has ever been speculated as possible from any of the texts purporting to be wise and this their song though the translation as you knows callow

we shimmers of light of goderite

nothing ruined nothing worked

reach and move within without

what never our berserk and smirk

to huddle in this polonium

means whoever of our murked taboo

not or not bridges dialogue

huddle this in that asylum

huddle far huddle near

humming hums of goderite

who would could waves of might

who lacking ears let here

and disrepresentations from a dispatch of perpetualis electromagnetic radiation come and shes chained to a phalluslight for a thousand years and each eternitys a day and each day a gag and each gag an abyss of bliss and each abyss a piece of a puzzle not yet fathomed or constructed and upon release shes carried in a rrheaium tesseract and dumped in a flufferite

fausta labbra

 

she asks her question as soon as she gets here or rather not as soon as she gets here but as soon as she can when she gets here after the interminable interviewing at the gates by sans peteriña where if she starts to ask her question the right winged one cuts her off immediately and repeats the brainless line im doing the questioning cliches never die she thinks and peteriña says theres a notion out there that truth comes from argument knowledge from debate comment on this and defend your comments

i dont even give a shit about getting into this place she thinks and says often argument comes from argument and if thats a truth its a truth but from nonargument also things come and isnt truth if it is something from all things or rather everything from all somethings and the nonargument in this argument sufficient evidence

is disillusionment more a freedom or a bondage

the scales required to weigh freedom while they may exist in your sphere are so nascent in ours the only artifacts that attempt that weighing are words and words are a bondage that cant be weighed

the mores and visions on your terrestrial ball necessitate that relations and practices are formed from fuckey and money regardless of the active and ubiquitous euphemistic factories explain how youll navigate different sets of factories relations euphemisms

look i dont even care whether i get in or not

you dont have anywhere else to go

therere always other places to go

sometimes there arent these are new circumstances for you dont overestimate the transferability of any knowledge you might assume you have destinations travel geographies possibility itself here they arent what they seem

they werent really on earth either but what i came here for is do you have a

sans peteriña continues questioning and she answers as if she were a bot in a phd defense in an inquisitive apparatus so vastly intricate and anachronistic what could speak in a mode that might point however obscurely to any habitations of reason that werent simply more mounds of isolation in a network so alienated from itself even a most conscious and powerful mirror couldnt begin to reveal any semblance of meaning that wasnt just yet more munitions in grinning robes of sentiment and as she speaks automatissmo and the hollowed and incidentally upsidedown portal domina interrogates according to the orthodoxies of the dicastery for the latrine of the wraiths she scans the system of gates between her increasingly dubious flesh and her inquiry and sees porters of decreasing rank stretching to golden horizons and interrupts isnt there a way to bypass this inane system of infinite ingress and sans peteriña says while youre still sarcoid if you service me and sans 7 12 490 and 1000 use the iridious globus crucigers in the second drawer why not my middle names anathema put the ferula in my rear consecration and the crosier in the anterior and sing inno e marcia pontificale using the 1991 lavagna lyrics hurry theres a lineup

and in the service of holiness and not having much else to do she proceeds with her tasks and completes them satisfactorily without further dispute and finds herself suddenly cast into a dark narrow curving alley with a faded broken sign on chipped osmium welcome to heaven population and there it breaks shit ive still got the ferula with me where theres a jill theres a way as granny ı always says and finds a dirty doorway to finish the build off

urıȷ

or

the petıtıo prıncıpıı of the

worlds most spectacular underground

the atlantıs metro tamsebyaızdata as its sometimes clandestinely called by locals glows with a purgative luminosity at this hour and it draws copulators down from the caves away from domestic abstractions and drones the futile and dispossessed and their liturgies of failure out of the terrors of interiority into terrors of structured mendacity into labyrinths of repression and stultifying prejudices of the powerful what brings them down these lost utopians from the caves of dreams

they sometimes fornicate on the shoals of the city in preparation for the hour sad thrustings against the vast middens of the wealthy and dogs and cows like rats rummaging alongside so one has to take care not to mistake a hole or proboscis and find oneself joined with another species and enjoying it more than ones own and what to do then in the sectors of dissonance

all the forests of the island are torn down for its construction but general urıȷ ıvınıvıchs celebrated as a grand national hero and the main line square boulevard academy park edifice prize seaport bear his name and who could deny its comprehensive impressiveness in every possible respect more stations than new york more beauty than moscow longer than shanghai older than london busier than tokyo smellier than paris more dangerous than são paulo dirtier than manila more crowded than delhi deeper than pyongyang more nonexistent than karachi more serene than stockholm one could enter and never leave and not live badly and some do its said sleeping in emergency hatchways feeding from windswept empanadas and patties smeared onto the exterior walls of marginal comms booths and signals of illused transfer tracks who can hold the representation of the system at once in ones mind and who can truthfully say shes been to each station and climbed those eternal stairs

the trains look like colossal squids and their bioluminescence can be seen at great distances even around lengthy corners as they scour the intricate and unmappable network of tamsebyaızdata and heavy pelagic moans roam the tunnels which even maintenance personnel whove been slaving for 40 years and whose pensions are so byzantine hrs lost all track of them cant fathom and routinely never timeout and are presumed extinct after the legally required passing theres the story of the exıgumenı fılıpı dı fılıpı lıppı whod only been doing garbage on one of the oldest lines for a few weeks and didnt show to clockout one morning and yet nine years after being presumed extinct shes found quite alive shagging in a pile of new tourist passes and few questions are asked and shes back to work stories like this circulate among the operators and security investigative officers the booth people and tactical infrastructure auditors portal service rangers and bioluminescent trackers the entire massive incomprehensible bureaucracy that keeps the trains moving 247 and without too many deaths from the lowliest urinal licker to the most licked executive they all have stories and lıppıs one of the few whos returned

as the linesre uncountable and the services fluid and the stations all named urıȷ for honour and glory and simplicity and restraint one takes ones chances in ones transit and for this the citizens are grateful this synecdoche of life bylaw 401|28b states clearly that the department of motile ingress and impetuous egress must no less frequently than every 900 hours move each station a distance of not less than 12.029746 fathoms including a set of procedures so monumental interpretations are rarely regulated or enforced pertaining to the specifications of entrances and exits and their relation not only to the socalled host station but to each other and an energy system of their environs which while not anything like fengshui has a certain similarity of architectural and geographical necessity propelling and constraining it

so into this monstrous scene into the oldest largest longest dirtiest lowest busiest smelliest most beautiful dangerous crowded serene metro ever envisioned or constructed after having intentionally screwed a few woebegones on rancid cumuli and a few hinnies by accident on the shoals of this indescribably great island and city she enters at urıȷ station and descends many stairs and elevators and infinite stairs and stairs and escalators and stairs until she feels shes on the very doormat of hades and navigates as quickly as possible for the purgative hour approaches with a speculative urgency the endless connecting tunnels past minstrels and troubadours of the most derelict descriptions who sound like tortured toads on toppling helicopters and the homeless and clothesless legless loveless and foodless clawing at her like inept demons and she finds a sign to urıȷ station and pushes to the very farthest reaches of the platform and removes her underpants and searches the eyes of those around for a luminous copulator to enter  

we communicate by samızdat

dont know why you do that

ruled by dogs but incorrigibly cats

we live by stealth and secrets

inhabitants of grand atlantıs

we live in chaos but live for coitus

dont matter if its the mouth or anus

a farce to play or a play to be serious

nice to no were goin knowhere soon

theres just the spoon

of love and a damsel in my fly

whod then or now not then importune

for metro loves more metro loves

its all after all just petıtıo prıncıpıı