Sunday 30 May 2010


this is not the end, my friend, this is only you

staring up against yourself in the non reflection of light, screened, edited, popcorn scattered everywhere...empty chair working on the empty chair. and in the hall no more echos, in the theatre only one more hall, you know where this is going, so do i, just admit it. its eco-container afterlives we fear and avoid, and saved by the same is what we will be. like water pulling back at the tree

how we carry it sometimes, the fear, the embedded original wide eye not seeing... act more like the coon the hunter thinks he's  treeing. Trapped? nowhere to go? when all we do every do is continue to move change resist til we gotta surrender. only the deepest roots pulled will they render

the darkest secret? anti oxidant of anti oxidant, the real solution of solvent? solve the mystery you made up, with collective madness of arching, back slacking of the rope when youre tired, when youre complacent, when your next child B nascent?

the plume of creative thought has risen over the factory laden london, of deep dreamy milky scenery, of your mind from your novels from your newsprint, from what they told you on a rainy day, from what you chose to learn and what you chose not to discern... far from the gutteral knowing of the yearning of the stern parent portending the future, pretending to suture up the hole in your whole time space continuum

pretentious fabricating of letters like scarlet, you turned her out the notorious harlot...

she wanted to turn swan to swan dive just to survive, cause her pure as white hit the ground cold with ice and the two had to unite. what a sight. cold and hot. beggars got. the meal, the match, the key to unlatch ties to nobility, then onward cultural senility and silence, anything preferential to moribund violence...

lets not mention the beauty of tension. lets tame it with tea, or some allegory. about the tree of knowledge. what grand foliage! how pretty. the words bouncing because we're so witty. here kitty here kitty! she calls so bizarrely, she who walks her big dogs and walks right around me. because she thinks she knows, and what she thinks is enough i guess. less to hold the line, no confrontation, no stress. just the invalidation that seeps across the nation, turning colors to sepia tones and interlacing all the button hole eyes with cotton plastic twist to cries...

so? will it take less time to lace up to your thighs? what once was irreverent, now steamrolled as lies. god must be a man, aint that right boys?  guys? to a room full of women steady eating his steam:  "no way motherfucker! go screw with your team. we got our periods out there. strict boundary waters, dont cross now. your whole planned agenda is like offal and tossed. your teeth we have traced them back to the gumline, we know you just said you would, and never really flossed. the world gets a root canal to dig any deeper. we're sending back the cell phones, man."

just give them their beepers. and ferme la bouche, is what you will promise when you go down to caves  douched with green tea. whats a paradigm shift so pleasant to us...

to you?
au revoir

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