2.12.18

fog & fog talk in fog about fog


there is nothing for you here but madness

but there is nothing for me there but madness

so where will you go

here there  there here

you go to madness

i am always here

madness is always with us

what is madness

madness is herethere

madness is the going that has gone

hello nothing

hello madness

hello hello

here but you is for there

amen

for some say that order is the way

and others chaos

and neither right

and both right

yet who could walk both and neither?

and the path of trying is the path of madness

and the path of seeing but not trying is also the path

and the path of neither trying nor seeing is madness

and the madness that is not madness is also the path

there is no path outside the path for all is path

and this is madness

there is sky and land and sea and fire

but they are dead in our hearts

we have kept them alive technically

they are dead in our hearts

the gap between coitus and dream

this is madness

the wheel that re-turns

this is madness

the dove and the oil

this is madness

the word that has forgotten how to fly

this is madness

the the that keeps theing

this too is madness

here we are

in the this and the here and the the

we shall win a prize

from the society of the nonexistent

and it shall be called onk

the prize of onk shall be ours

we shall place it high on the shelves of our soul

and dust it like rare italian marble

we shall call ourselves those of onk

and those who disdain us shall call us onkists

and there shall be a war

between the onkists and the yoophians

between the onkists and the uffuls

between the uffuls and the yoophians

between all and all

and this is madness

let us go to sleep

for we have exhausted the possibilities

but rather we have not exhausted the possibilities but they have exhausted us

for the night has gone and day is here and it is time to sleep

for we no longer know how to distinguish day and night

and this is madness

and this is the dusting

and this is madness

and here we are  the last poets

the last poets are always the last

and this is madness

we seek fog like others seek light or money or love

nothing for us here but fog

and fog is the wheel

and the wheel is the sea

the sea the hello

the hello the prize

the prize the sleep

let us sleep

and this is madness

and this is sleep

this is sleep

9.10.18

& on the 41st day


as the human world collapses i seek kinked comfort in bulged downtown upscale malls  their shiny irrealities  the bipeds like moronic robots purchasing death   big blind bursts of automation  shopping bags like soggy genitalia drooping from unworthy & combatant arms

all is light as those mystics say in their profound darkness  shoes purses boxers watches laptop accessories throwaway toys alike shine with an equal intelligence  who could say no to these dumb tombs   our abyssal tribal purchase

i move  no am moved  through erect consumption   for a force alongside gravity electromagnetism  strong weak  perhaps dark quintessence  lives in the limp & pulsing universe  it is this other force drawing me through the dull code of pecuniary humans and the only energy i seem to expend is that required to not be blinded by the hyperovercommoditization of everything   i am like the earth falling  spun  through the curved inevitable maze of the sun

how elemental our autodegradations  how with vast subtleties we hide the maggots of our souls in the thin sheen of the seen   oh structured nothingness of piled products  oh numinous luminosity of caffeines massive mind

the mall is endless like a borges story  i am confused & fated & doubled  i do not see myself but desires dropped destiny   even upon leaving i do not leave   the mall is all  fall & pall  christ & post & anti   we celebrate our dismayed demise with gouged eyes & hooked hands  extinction of intoxicating ignorance

lead me through the mall  god of destroyed dreams   show me the comedy of stupidity  smiles of despair

21.8.18

dao de jing xiii


favour and disgrace are like being startled
honour is a great trouble like your body
what is meant by saying that favour and disgrace are like being startled?
favour being that which when bestowed on a subject serves to startle as much as when withdrawn
this is what is meant by saying that favour and disgrace are like being startled
what is meant by saying that honour is a great trouble like your body?
the reason i have great trouble is that i have a body
when i no longer have a body, what trouble do i have?
hence one who values putting its person in order more than putting the empire in order can be given the custody of the empire
one who grudges using its person for putting the empire in order can be entrusted with the empire.

dear thirteens,

this is the initial wellness that we ran away from for a false wellness. neither spa nor gym, personal fitness coach nor metime advocate. not to support a career or lifestyle or advancement or relationship

these cycles of winners and losers, ruling and being ruled are for a humanity that only knows how to abuse its gifts, destroy its value, exterminate life, treat death lightly. another humanity hides in this one and in this age when a warring and consumptive destruction pervades normalized societal structures and rituals, who would uncover itself?

this putting its person in order is of a different order than the orders given us in our homes and schools and workplaces and medias and bedrooms. but hardly one absent from the world – it is most present if we would stop and listen to our myriad peers (few of them human) in life – yet one we have violently suppressed to serve our appetites for extinction

oh human who cannot be entrusted with the empire. oh human who lusts after influence, who believes its voice is innately and rationally superior. oh human who has senses and consciousness and does not use them except for its own extension and comfort and obesity. what are you doing on earth and why are you asserting your rights when you have not shown yourself worthy of honour or your body or the empire or trust or life?

7.8.18

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