communication

some whonyms are of thıs world   others are not

my natural self ıs not of thıs world because thıs world ıs not of my not and nothıngness

ooQ upuncta vıa urnas

നിങ്ങൾക്ക് ജീവിതത്തെ വളരെയധികം ചോദ്യം ചെയ്യാൻ കഴിയില്ല

imma l-ħajja tippreżenta ruħha biex tkun mistoqsija

tiako ny olona manan-tsaina sy mamoy fo

มนุษย์กลายพันธุ์เป็นเรื่องยากและเป็นเอกพจน์

ubomi buyabathanda kwaye ubomi bafuna ukubabulala

tarixning bir qismi bo'lishga harakat qilish yoki urinmaslik

men historia är bara organiserad tid och tid som intelligens är bara något att döda

بیان احمقانه

هل لدي قطة   هل أستعبدها وأحافظ عليها في عزلة فقط لمنحني القليل من الراحة من حين لآخر  هذا الاستغلال

að láta nóttina virðast vera aðeins minni nótt

এবং আমরা পুরো পরাস্তকে প্রেম নাম দিয়েছি

ਇਤਿਹਾਸ ਜ਼ੁਲਮ ਕਤਲ ਇਕੱਲਤਾ

ఇదంతా కేవలం ప్రేమ

ada semua matahari terbenam yang indah

ක්ෂිතිජයේ ලේ

machweo yanachosha baada ya dakika kumi na tano

đó là lý do tại sao chúng ta quay lại giết người

ị pụtara ịhụnanya

aroha

kofe ma sikaleti

rudo rwechokwadi

કોઈ શોષણ

kupatula

eu ando na floresta porque sou um animal que pertence ao deserto e à selva   e a floresta em sua suavidade parece uma sósia benigna

यो होइन

nos abstraemos de la naturaleza y en el proceso de abstracción extraemos de ella para apoyar el proceso y luego inventamos formas de simular la naturaleza de la que hemos huido

vi er kneppede

tаа ме сака затоа што сум амбивалентен во врска со волјата

hori polita da zure baitan zerbait maitagarria da

nu mă iubesc din cauza ambivalenței mele

a ponieważ nie kochasz siebie, nie zabijasz się

я не сказав що не люблю себе хоча не знаю що це означає

ake sife sonke

ئۇ يۈز بېرىۋاتىدۇ

វិធីជាច្រើនចុះពីលើភ្នំ

हम अपनी आशा को किसी चीज में रखते हैं   धर्म दर्शन कला शिक्षा कारण लोकतंत्र प्रौद्योगिकी महिलाओं को खुद   आशा ढह गई   हम अपनी आशा को किसी नई चीज़ में स्थानांतरित करते हैं

מתי נגמר לנו הדברים

우리는 그저 잊고 버린 실망으로 돌아가

кечкенә балалар кебек

pintar di jalannya

estipid nan fason li

ບໍ່ເຄີຍມີສິ່ງໃດຜິດພາດ

kowane lokaci kuskure ne

ځینې شیان کله ناکله غلط وي

éta pikaboseneun

நான் முட்டைகளைப் பார்க்க மறுநாள் மூலையில் கடைக்குச் சென்றேன்

užlipau ant uolų prie vandenyno pažvelgti į gilumos paviršių

yumurtaya süründüm ve biri beni satın alıp kızarttı 

skočil jsem do oceánu a usnul, než jsem uviděl hlubinu

li cîhanek din di demek din de

ninu ala miiran ninu ala miiran

मी प्रेम करतो असं म्हणत नाही

ମୁଁ ଭଲପାଏ

simvuze

ja que la història és una presó per a tothom que no hi sigui

私たちは5万の戒めをあたかも私たちを支えるむちのひもであるかのように暗唱します

e hele kākou i ka ulu lāʻau a ʻai ʻia e nā bea

tingnan natin ang mga magagandang abot-tanaw sa loob ng labinlimang minuto

我们需要变异来帮助我们抽象自己并从自然中提取我们需要变异来向我们展示我们正在抽象和提取

ja auttamaan meitä simuloimaan kaikkea mitä olemme tappaneet

Учир нь бидний алж байгаа бүхэн бидэнд хэрэгтэй байдаг

cov dab xyw ntxiag los txias

ne vrasim sepse fantazmat janë kaq interesante

rydym wrth ein bodd yn rhoi genedigaeth a lluosi'r ysbrydion

anda neile hääl ja aidata neil oma üksildaseid laule laulda

heestaasi waa waxa aan ka maqlo dabaysha

tion mi vidas ĉe sunsubiro

ကြည့်ပါ ဦး  ငါ့ကြောင်ဒီမှာ

پر اهو توهان جو ناهي

շուտով դա կլինի ուրվական

hallani fogom amíg meg nem halok és látom ahogy a szeme rám villan ahogy ők

oчи духова које трепћу су мерило историје

sing jero banget kanggo aku   aku luwih seneng pitakon tinimbang pernyataan

غروب آفتاب نے ہوا سے کیا کہا

gaan blaas jouself 

ያ አስቂኝ አይደለም

est tantum ridiculam historia

жана жашоо

ಜೀವನವು ಇತಿಹಾಸದ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಯಾಗಿದೆ

ცხოვრება ხომ კითხვების საჩუქარია?

αλλά αν αμφισβητείτε τη ζωή πάρα πολύ;  

louca lisboa

the cervices of xanadu are sick

stricken with an undiagnosed disease

and ı wake up vapid and phlegmatic

thinking in fluent portuguese

 

the illness grows across the opulence

as apertures unnamed and repulsive

infiltrate any remaining belief

destroying beauty and concupiscence

 

images of zaragoza in shimmer heat

yank the mirages of xanadu

to obliterate them with a snickersnee

and all thats left is this haiku

fluctua na noite

vago fulgor indeciso

o que não será

are words numbers now?

avavaQa & dooline·mamoo plan to detonate the government aedificia of ıᵹñıł•ḥıł and as they sit on the planes of astrolabe faham avavaQa says

 

in reconstituted regimes of communication  more now consumption than ecstasy  whonyms obtrude numbers into tidal pods of indifferent nodes to thicken laden atmospheres of infection

 

words are numbers now and those who would seek roots forage for them in margined forests   silent seeds in soils of dreams

 

word as number has clambered to its place on a dais so far from water and earth  tottering visibly  trying to compensate for its ungemahlen through torrents of distraction and a riesig überspanntheit crammed insufferably into die gestalt des whonym

 

and languages trümmer? not in action name form hope but the mad  in forlorn stutterings and drunken stammerings alienized lips reveal the wreckage of the day

 

and dooline˚mamoo ponders avavaQas utterance as a black moon tarries in electric resignation on heavens predelle painted with the viscera of the yeasty & unredeemed and as the infinitely variable transmission of camaraderie slips dooline˙mamoo says

 

when we count we do not see numbers but rather sense their shape which is never quite revealed to us and in this sensing might be a tranquility of word

 

it is good to mow ones deck  it is good to rake bread until the plops phone home  it is good to say it is good

 

words now in their usurpation of air might assume regulatory functions they may not have have been trained for but what is that governance in a geometry without end

 

a lethargy sets in  establishes itself in the astral pith of language  a quintessence perhaps tangential to the question of a life as it snicks in remarkable vibrations

 

and the two once friends have detonated them

selves with compressed plenitude of dealings and

the aedificia of ıᵹñıł•ḥıł yet

stand

lady bladder cherry

long long ago and long before that lady bladder cherry receives in her maildrop a letter from a dream which she interprets as

the dead have roused from their rest to hunt lovers in the garish eve

losing votively themselves in thickets of critical mirage

fragmentation in those of plasma

as solidity avers itself

 

but the dead dont get lost thinks lady bladder cherry opening times parasol let us flap the flag of our pudenda on the markets parliament  let us suicide by not suiciding

 

the lady that day has been on the dead and while this is no aberration it becomes this day one

 

go where everything negates you

but that is anywhere

 

licking my eye like a cytherean dog

you lie depudic by the gonadal gates

 

cherrys on deaths dais and doesnt know it   bladder may have seen this message   ladys dreaming of a letter that has the mind of a letter that loses its dreaming in the dead

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

di degli licks her sickly panties

lets just do the blank page

 

heres the blank page

 

its not blank anymore

 

lets have a conversation

 

theres no one to talk to except the blank page

 

hello blank page

 

 

 

the given is a question therefore the given isnt the given

 

whonymitys saying how much more can i put up with and natures saying alot more

 

writing without an audience sucks but with one its impossible

 

god we got that out of the way

 

its never out of the way because the ways always here

 

not that way idiot

 

hello my friend i am shit island certified wonder guide where are you going come into my tour only nine lakh your life will be forever changed guaranteed go to hell very beautiful very beautiful shit island tour only take 11 year come in my friend look i grab you like this you come no one should see i take all your lakh now no one should not see big shit island before big death

 

who was that?

 

und ı wood hav twee dötrs und nym dem ȷemımah kezıah kerenhapuch und θo ıv bin mōst sikli θeh שׁal bee θu twee mōst byootıfl dötrs een θu land

 

alota noise happening

 

way is just yeah with a double you

 

what does that mean

 

dont horry be wappy

 

just the other day i mean yeah i was clambering up the genitalia of a mentally ill concept when

 

you realize novel and fungi are effectively indistinguishable

 

i dont want to talk about novel anymore

 

both have 5 letters  both have 1 n 2 vowels 3 consonants  f & v are both fricatives  one falls into both  both are nutritious delicious hallucinatory  both have leaves  in novel theyre often called pages and fungi gills  each is its own kingdom  each is rooted in shit  they both contain fun and love which are synonyms

 

thats stupid

 

und ı wood hav twee also sûnz und nym dem uz buz und θu θrd wun uv keמuel כּesed haζo pıldaשׁ ȷıdlaϕ beθuel tebah gahaם tahaשׁ מaakah wot u pik und θo ıv bin mōst sikli θeh שׁal bee θu twee mōst byootıfl sûnz een θu land

 

could you get θat outa here

 

didnt bring it in

 

lets go to dollarama buy a million styrofoam spheres go bankrupt go home fill a room become alcoholics because theres nothing else to do and

 

all those θs and שׁs  i dont like talking like this anymore

 

im flying vavaQa a|r next week to vavaQa city

 

what you gonna do there

 

 im gonna vavaQa

 

youve gone vava

 

social media is mythic media

 

so shall medea eyes wikipedia

and dante ups his auntys ante

whos in the outferno with chlamydia

di degli licks her sickly panties

then all hell breaks loose in la commedia

and gods a dingly  ranty scanty

in knowledges sightless ommatidia

so fuck the venereal farce of dante

which transmits the std acedia

 

horrible poem

 

only kind left

 

im making an eleven dimensional diorama of the ruptured inverse of absurdity

 

the dimensions being spime tace ideal dream idea death love drugs geometry technology god?

 

some take exception to spime tace and geometry as redundant

 

sure but then youre back to one dimension  god

 

zero  death

 

zero  drugs

 

zero  dream

 

hows it going

 

what

 

the diorama

 

like poetry

 

that bad

 

i sleep alone with my diorama

nightmares of poetry go kabama

lifes a boring docudrama

of bouncy bankrupt spheres

 

ive got my onager aimed at my head set to go off if the dow goes above thirtytwo thousand

 

coffee is my kinda dick

dark and hot and strong and thick

 

its getting vulgar

 

always does

 

lets hope the dow spikes soon

 

dont whorey be yappy

 

dont borey be nappy

 

dont dont be be rappy

 

be bap clap doo dont dont

 

be bop doo sap app pee

 

time to stop fungusface

 

youre just a novel with nothing to lose

 

save a novel flop a face

 

spime for shit island

 

im for absinthe

sham man

shaman like all now ancient desperations is overused and underdone   like the teeming western pilgrims to varanasi  whatever their motivations  in search of the absences in the heart of the west  finding only presences  shaman is varanasi ayahuasca maybe love or sex even money in its manifold and crushing vulgarity  its claims to all & nothing  flash in a stolen pan  community as thief usurper doubleagent or triple more  time twisted and fried   but what is shaman? some jungle aesthetic? an unrecoverable character on natures barely conscious stage  flesh of dream  and now only  whether in loreto or manhattan some sham a 350night excursion into the lands broken & forever scaled a 4000 selfie trip to a polluted & honking ganesha   chant the plants  sell the love   and what is shaman in the age of digital reproduction with that sexy & romantic martyr che titting it up across perky planets? are we all shamans but bad ones in our microscopic specializations  our language of whatever rabbit hole we might find ourselves in  or are those who take the nym  whether indigenous or invasive  entitled to some claim the rest of us arent  credentials   not that the recognized presence of some shaman certification body  or bodies different competing schools and dogmas like those pesky splintering protestants  would solve any of the problems we find tucked away in the dusty boxes in the skeletal garrets of the dilapidating mansions of legitimization  it might even increase then as we could from various angles and arcs say such has done to doctors judges teachers philosophers poets priests generals therapists   necessary you say for our world to function according to code   absolutely   but the code is aborted and our world antifunctional and necessity a monster as mixter weil cogently articulates   we have something else to say   unless shaman takes the sham in man and puts it back  unless it fulfill and destroy credentials  unless it inhabit the jungle desert forest ocean mountain and loves these more than human society  unless it denies shaman as occupation name tradition  ie unless it go on the path before the concept of shaman was born  before shaman was born  unless it confuse in and out while living out of society and in the path so that society is more path than society  unless in our fragmentations it lives on the outside and mumbles and every now and then a word seeps out      unless      too restrictive? there is nothing here we say   nothing here but the chattering of long nights and their infinite children of gas      enter my difficult one into the voices who doubt time and money  who stake their dreamthreads to countless poles   so the shaman  or our shaman  takes its place in noplace  for there is no place for it left in this world   it pitches itself in noplace to listen to dark voices  not to return to any form of society  political or regulatory structure  ceremony or love  not to to      it follows a tradition of outsideinside  novoicevoice  noplaceplace  nonamename  notimetime      we also sometimes call our shaman  this noshaman  a polypolar   for it reaches noplace through a ground or grounds of not just n&s e or w  but every latlong  voice of muskrat muskeg nutmeg megafauna cake and cow and plopplop  car and rust and musth and a tuktuks hello dawn and word and distant cave and here

 

shaman lives in hallucinogens of falling contradiction  of hunger and satiation not oppositive but faces of water  mirrors of fog   everythings a drug  loss betrayal hunger nightmare vision colour walking muddledness tedium   and drugs just a portal to more portality

 

shaman lives in simulations of apocalypse to compost apocalypse   it lives in possibility to avoid the schizophrenias of actuality   lives in schizophrenias to unmask the myriad alls   it lives in death to experience lifes manifestations as they might exist in living laboratories of soil and wind   shaman lives in absence to facilitate a present seeking

 

shamans forage and seek to forage according to the data of rhythms of locusts and beancurd  of cocktails that rise like gasoline  their foraging for rupees among the banking machine forests of varanasi would be inadequate but for the lightless soil of the shamans roots  a lightlessness that would be sibling to imagination  an imagination capable of creating foraging  a foraging for nuts apples seeds roots gometa pata  that we in our machines have been severed from and shaman  not as even retreat position guru  is a way to not unite heal integrate but desever   and this desevering new? near?   our foraging for rupees a foraging for refuse  the discards and deaths  anonymities  interior voices  the silenced  the majority that isnt voiced in the green collapse

 

so shaman looks for excluded voices  the criticisms withheld from any gang tribe family institution self identity  to keep it together and does not negate the affirmations of the tribe but sees these as nothing stranger than the exclusions and negations   you say  but all these weights and counterweights on the souls unbalanced scales!?  it means you dont  you cant!  get anything done  you have no action  wills annihilated by an excess of will or wills  if you have any action its hamletian action  action bottled up in mind only to explode  but we say  ah  youve not seen the ham in sham  the hamlet in shamlet  which leads so truthfully to the am in ham   i am the am and ham and sham   i am the ion in action  the ill in will   there is  you may have heard  a no action far older than any shamlet  one before i or am or man  for this the shaman forages  like the scavangers in bms epilogue  those wraiths of lost fire  born into false forges and cold currencies? do we seek then war  that god? no   war is in us and us   shaman rests in the impossible cacophony of voices and for this rest it lives in the outside of the in  an inside of outs      do not rebuke the little children by the ganga who set toll booths according to their sad mentors   instead  dust  the dust  worn negation of a young yesterday  draw with the dust of yourself shapes inexplicable and full of eyes

 

is all this too declarative? yes

 

are all these words misguided? yes

 

is there any i resembling anything were talking about? no

 

are happiness and love aspects of this? as much as indifference and despair

 

do we know what were talking about or thinking? no  maybe  yes  no

 

are words unpolished mirrors?

 

is our gaze a stumbling in dusk?

 

are we the unanswerability of ourselves?

 

are oracles the spaces between stars?

 

are forms the mathematics of an undreamt geometry?

 

is this a leaf   are we stones waiting to be sand?

entitled no one

ın an evenıng when our spırıt is desolate  one of those nıghts when betrayal is everywhere and ınsects pıtch theır mounds ın the tumulus of the braın  ı take some hashısh in the manner of the neinteenth century and escape ınto the habıtatıons of ıgnomıny

 

proportıons of retıculated tıme ın uncountable creepage joın the extrıcatıons  feet on snows of ımmune preserve and handles rumblıng on the spherıcal effuse of sodden jengatalıa   the castles rıse deep here and who is ı to doubt the socıety of death

 

were not talking about smart stuff were talking about the twentyfirst century an exmember of the order of endebyrdnes chirps on chirper and antennae aquıver and history mushed hope fashions in yammering workshops under tarrying hangovers of ten billion dead ineffective gods

 

ahoy! randy innuendo stumbles in a vityaz dıatom   let me act like the unlanded gentry that im not   were all catmatıc in the new plasmatorıum   dont look at me that way   the pirates always win   ahoy   theres a big dump brewıng ın the mythster

 

in a series of paıntıngs titled untıtled # 0 entitled no 1 intitled numburr 3 outtitled umbra 4 detıtled berry 5 transtıtled nary 6 patatıtled svn undıes ∞ anavitaled nonnyıtıld non non lucıferin manipulates quibering hedgehogs in a shortsqueezed gaming under a jittering katzenjammer   sleep sleep your life away

 

sleep sleep your life away         how graceful the dreamscape  nonexıstence sleep death   how lessest the jarring with will as the fill   antıhero won doo me bore knıve redsex bluesex ınfınıtı non elves bentydoo hondreadnknive hondreadnsox suckszıllıonnbore beeronbeero      hows maimbrain the desolation now that uberhalfwaythrough is here

 

ı wake up on a chaıse of hell which doesnt exist of course except it does except the chaises a phase and the phase a moon and the mood an ınsect and the ınsect the waking   here rawomen now  egyptian god of かん水 and noodles count to noodle

 

ın a woken fountaın a wheel loosed at a well  ın fungı skıes alıce with eyemondes creators bleak   does amazon know whats in the pıt  tesla whats ın the hole  can dreamdom be in a whonym shit or death ın a kintsugı bowl

 

a bed of escapes waıts for ı lıke a shattered cat  times pıtcher pours me lıke a regret and its dawn somewhere but never here   take sylphısh dısconsolate nıght ı into customs of dısgrace and caterpillars come like sılver centuries

tombolo of stone

 

certain forms of intelligence have nowhere to go in society  this present society  for its own presumed good  as its structurally configured and enforced  must continually transform those intelligences into production  but they to be themselves eschew production  so where does intelligence go? it goes where it came from and in a sense never leaves   being a subsidiary of nature  conceals itself in excesses of itself which appear to the uninitiated  if they appear at all  as offenses

 

why does ı write?

·             to avoid suiciding

·             as society as its normally constituted is misaligned with ı and ı  to fill time

·             ı like it

·             the process of waiting for writing  which is most of writing  is replete

·             to manifest  however partially and obscurely  spirit

·             to dia log with other seemingly likespirited whonyms in desert bars of spime and tace and through these conversations participate in the esotatic and thereby see god and die

why write so obsessively though?

·             same reasons  for death is powerful and how else does one of the frail living meet it as an equal but through energies that simulatedly match it in vigor and material

 

who the night who rides the knight tonight?

my fortunes are as ill proportioned as your mind

why does not heaven turn ash or with a frown undo the world?

 

ı aspire to a failed artist  a fartist  an artailure  artâılûre

 

woiwode voevoda voivode vojvoda

voevod vaivode wojewoda voyvoda

voyevoda woywode

vojvode

 

ı autoexclude myself in the name of the quest of nym  to seek for inclusions that birth in my removal  that sort of activism  those politics   ı place in the undesired places all the ı of ıs and there go to war with the teeming phantasmagoria that drone over the virtual hills with great pomp and hisses taking manic selfies under bloody tattered banners of love

 

sadoogags

jokester1                              why doesnt granny ı take a dot?

jokester2                                                                  we all are dot

tragedian                                                we take dot for granny

 

an âr̂t̂âîl̂ûr̭ê migrates into margins with uncertain knowledge of scales that weigh vast and distributed ıs  that its migration has nothing particularly to do with justice balance equality or even necessity  neither with sadomasochism or sacrifice virtue nobility stupidity loss gain  but if anything a love of geometry perhaps instilled in the emigrant by a wayward dream presented haphazardly across numberless rubbed nights      the margins let me tell you are vile with unpinned life  so succulent with taxa of unhingement that any investigating biology would devour itself with maws of mawing   all your troubles and bumptiousities and kinships here on their heads and rolling and the lonely sad like forests when they first saw the whonym seize the turd from the tree of why in the burden of eyes   not that were promoting anything

 

we might in other psyches in finding ourselves emigrated hope for some however vague identification with the remnant diaspora of nature but this would be too much  rather we dream of simulating an otherity that we ourselves once were or might have been and in this dream neither vacillate among the presented types nor emerge defending any third or eight or middle way

 

the desire for nonrelation

the styles with which voidists create spaces around hopedforabsence         

 

if history has any purpose which is doubtful but possible it might be to eradicate prophecy   yet in historys present splice has prophecy become more necessary and unattainable than ever

but melon husk  u dont hav much cloo uv da whirld

cars and houses that dont exist are sold all the time

in fact primarily whats sold in the world and you sell is what doesnt exist

politics  like business and war  has always needed poetry  for use   whereas poetry always knows its uselessness  this knowledge in the spaces of a poem   and whether poetry needs business war politics for its uselessness  this a question also in the spaces

 

 

the silent unseen living

the seen the babbling dead

stick the polenta up my ass baby

this is a safe place baby

stick the safe polenta up my safe ass baby

were safe babies baby

polenta my baby asshole

stick my safe polenta ass

polenta polenta polenta polenta

baby

 so asssafe polenta baby stick baby baby