...the fewer that die: the more the chance to chirp-and-borrow... sparrows\' crown... a grand avenue of image... some detail of narrative... no boarded-up thomas mann solipsism-esque: if i too had... a bedroom cork-lined... i\'d post a request: in deviating from time, predictably \"lost\"... and keeping with a tradition of: space, less frequented - thereby not exactly harrowed with ownership... passed from one sentiment (ladder) to the next gluttonous serpent... as much as there was a \"search\" and a... \"lost time\"... missing the train... in search of that missed-timing and open spacing... a sober nuance... a drunk\'s circus... time regained: all that, which encompassed not reading the book - working from bribes... that narrative so compact... it would have to shame and shun an otherwise ideally eternal: stack of brick.
at a time when so few are dying in conflicts
of known iraq...
and... will this be one of those:
grandiosity statements that leaves
everyone exasperated?
yes... people seem to find their dog\'s tail
their tongue waggle so freely now:
when so much seems to have gone
so terribly wrong -
compliance to: \"the good of the people\"...
when iraq was...
and what it was was also something
similar to libya -
but i hardly think i need to
pepper my words with over-politicised
statements... i\'d much prefer the use
of italics - if anything...
yes... i am reading some horace i am
reading some ovid and i\'m looking
for a memorable line - even a couplet
that\'s... d\'uh... a couplet because it rhymes...
something akin to...
the basic categories of food:
sweet, sour, salty, bitter...
umami...
i need some garnish...
i guess there might be: fudgy / doughy...
why dairy is not invoked?
i hope to never know...
i want to forget the point where
i find myself writing and not
eating -
i know i am missing a certain category -
i was in a park today... trying to walk off
a strained plantar fascia -
bench cigarette swedish cider...
a glory to the perfumes of autumn:
finally i can test my nose
on this fine fine palette...
an old woman approached me
as i was gesticulating with my leg outstretched...
\'i was almost assured to find you
being the owner of the dog
that ran across my path...
later the field... but then again: it was
a fox... i think...\'
it wasn\'t a memorable conversation:
except for my reply...
\'oh no... i wasn\'t the owner of this
said dog...
i have a shadow for a dog...\'
and how politely she bid me farewell...
again: it\'s not bungee jumping...
it\'s this forever unspectacular everyday...
i like this unspectacular everyday
when one can exercise language
beyond mere formality / courtesy...
i have yet to crown myself with
relish with conversation -
that i always will staging an impromptu
that leaves the conversed with
either form of tornado or
butterfly -
it\'s not a familiarity it\'s not
unlike a face that will be lost
under the random nature of memory
being too the erasure...
flaming 2 + 2 = 4 or some other
less mathematical and more
pronounced use of letters coming
to the fore: prominent...
my past time would be summed up
with looking approachable and
dwelling in the riddle of old age...
i know it will somehow catch up with me...
but not yet...
it\'s this sensibly non-oratory:
plagues of verbiage: how else
to fashion congesting the experiencce:
extracting the most of the essence
allowed...
like so... \'mein schatten
ist meine hund\' -
no evil cat ladies \'ere...
no piquant scenting of feline piss...
i do admire the convenience
of having no purpose for
a leash or a muzzle...
if i could pet a crow....
i wish i could...
but what good is (a) petting
of a crow: what good is a cage
or wings: for that matter?
i have to return to a quasi-meditation:
to endear death with a personification:
even a consciousness where
i a sperm: where i a foetus -
after all: mother dear...
i will be born into a magic
act of mortality: i will cease to make
myself \"relevant\"...
perhaps that\'s how i musst see
death: come this faking of autumn drap...
autumn is probably...
no... nay... no... autumn is when
i arrive at: believably alife -
livid: concern
with variation to the letter,
i leathered - worn and torn and
a sex life among bodies that
are amiable and dough-esque
and nothing of this tyranny of porcelain
beauty...
touched would: \"someday\"
decide upon... shattering into
a thousand little pieces...
i like this testimony for
the marriage to the mediocre...
my little interlude on a bench
with a sore tendon... somehow has
to find graces among so much
abundance only a sniff\'s distance away...
i wish i invented the burning
colours of decay: i\'d want
to bask in the colours of a dying light...
i\'d want: to stand statue-esque
among the trees when
they start to imitate
forest vermin...
and begin their great adventure of
foraging....
such pristine economics
of nature such as these here presented:
i languish for a delight in summer...
the air is gushing with
a thickness of indistinguishable allures:
most certainly the readily concerned
with footprints on a beach:
amnesia counter memory
counter all that pedagogy acid...
i open a can of synthetic
imitations of blackcurrant, raspberry...
it\'s swedish it\'s not...
accustomed to... an idea that...
synthetics\' must! a pairing of apple
and mint... could be turned into a cider...
less a juggling act of two bold
statements of fully-bodied extracts...
well free lunch on me:
i can actually be somewhat poo-antic friendly
should drinking be invoked...
for the world to be this instilled -
i\'d require... moi: imitation
araignée...
the bench and its vicinity the web...
comfortably old passersby my
flies... out of no ill will:
dogs and the elders approach me:
i am yet to find myself having
said something formidable...
but... if it isn\'t that...
i have to settle on creating something...
passable - pardonable - quirky to the point
of allowing the opposite party
no counter inclination:
there is no need to stipend an
obviousness / revoke-...
i don\'t want to use a language
of either impetus or... categorical narratives...
oh look... shelter me from having
spent 3 years digesting... ah\'ant(K)...
well... impetus or imperative...
jurisprudence is plagued / peppered
with synonym usage: through and thorough...
i\'m still thinking: well... there\'s no colour
to this meagre body...
there is no shape for rummage among
dough of stone sorrow settled
for the eternity of rain: and rhyming...
a borrowed journalism of sort:
an extract at best... and that\'s what i must
settle for...
it can\'t have accent of a certainty:
arrived at... it can\'t be a: denotation clarity:
hey! my name\'s a\'bob!
no... but hardly a tactic to
exfoliate in pretentiousness -
i do have to stress that:
i somehow do... drift into this variant
of impromptu -
i allow language its own ills
that are not befitting to a linear-ality of
topic...
to think: this world so complex
would allow an individual to...
somehow not match it...
make synchronicity with it...
that language has to borrow:
sharpened flints and all those base
equipment leverages to...
merely appease...
it can\'t! it simply can\'t! be this...
celebration of: a language peacocked with
when thrown into the glorification
of tongue-tied of mediocracy...
oddity... i am starting to grow fond
of... kæ tempest -
\"europe is lost\"...
unless looking for lithuania
unless looking for kosovo..
unless looking for poland ukraine
unless looking for moldova...
unless looking for: work ennobles...
work is the bone the drudgery...
unless looking for post-colonialism
unless having to make
cripple tongue: poet the atlas...
the nugget treat of looking
through a microscope at society...
unless you haven\'t...
woken up in a little ol\' england
when having to settle for flee...
polar bears in poland? do these people
have access to sea?
the youth of england
come 1998 when i toyed with
the cheapest of cheap jokes...
but... there weren\'t any jokes:
just choking...
i came here this tongue
is... i am arrival... an... arrival at...
bigger desires for
yet another picburger...
пицбургэр
fake-burger... no not nothing-burger...
but most certainly not:
my tongue this: mine...
this will not belong to a zeitgeist...
this will not be scratched or later
sheltered with for:
a tongue that was used as shovel
to unearth the dead from:
the already sediment membrane
riddled clay o dough...
custard blues no smart talking
from south london...
no need to shuffle to lay on
prompt...
to be this pulverised by word and image....
instilled in noir and summaging
whitey -
there\'s the same sterile prone to
state brick: beside those that crease
plumbing gifts and grit...
the in between us people that want
to itch with words and have
insomniac thinking -
that i haven\'t stolen anything:
but acquired this tongue...
from no beside this little nostalgia for
an agony aunt...
no... recantation from a hill-top
and a grave...
i am not prone to speak an exhaustion
from a borrowed atlas pose...
i have this little tongue o\' me...
this little cravat sort of a pedantic
detail...
i want to own the echo
and the footsteps...
politicians have been saving
society with oratory-:
at best: kept distance...
a byproduct of niche...
a very local sort of extraction
process that hitched a ride on
the blues...
and left the originators in a
stateless limbo-la-la-land...
the thieves came and...
by a vain-glory joke accumulation...
the readied smouldering
slab of pork... was left... untouched...
i beg to wonder:
what was the intent
and the hunger...
it was oh so familiar
once upon a time.