at the time i wrote it i knew "silence is violence" was false but i couldn't resist the rhyme of course sometimes, yes & there is a lot of bunkum spoke but shit sticks when the clean stuff the clear stuff people keep lettin slide
myth it went south it went south it went south is the myth no it goes multidirectionally there is no history history is a story his hit hiss t what about ours ours being it is chartible but in our cities we can't see the horizon we can't see the stars at night even the sunset sunrise moonrise moonset is blocked out we can't hear the electronic & engine noise that the ground spews forth life growth under the sea tectonic plates d & c stardust this is not just our solarsystem this is a multiverse which can never be charted without dreaming the balance of the world is outta wack coz now more people live in the city than in the country let that sink in ... how the river inside me aches to roam undammed to reconnect with the spirit of the land i hear it in the symphony of birds the light just right why this moment it's perfect innocent everywhere the steel the plastic the minerals that make this plain i doubt it will work but work i must coz language produces the i...
returning to deeper more crucial common matters life on this earth mother earth less pollution less concrete & steel beyond the idling car is the only thing that's real the spirit of the land the ancesters have motioned me to back off & slowly follow one drift one willy cloud gatherer i see them now all is quiet still breath deep ...
a woman bought a book from the bookstore near where i was sitting having a cigarette i asked her "what book did ya get?" she said "a cookbook on Georgian cooking" i said "u like ur tucker" she said "no" i said "do u know what it means?" she said "yes i know" i said "tucker means food" she said "i don't like how it's pronounced" & walked away
i feel like i lost faith this week like i broke the invisible thread that holds the world together & now i'm just a gambler i helped a man who's broken by torture a former journalist in the middle east. his pants fell down & he couldn't get them to stay up when he was walking. poor guy. people would have dobbed him in like they do when they smell desparation & fear. i patched him up. got an unwanted eyefull of dick 🙈 it reminded me of toileting my late father. it's kind of surreal. the last few years have gifted me more unwanted nudity than wanted! life is very strange. but i took the hipocratic oath when i became a medic. i'm good at patching people up. i'm an amazing carer. i woulda made a good nurse. i like life raw. of course it traumatises one. sick of the sight of penis. as if it wasn't bad enough going to a boys school. i far prefer the company of women xx
i miss you it's bleak here too much concrete too much gossip i need someone to speak from the warped heart not ready made ideology low on cigarettes how are you my love?
as bad as gordian war monger alexander i feel like i broke the invisible thread that holds the universe together the music of the spheres i am drifting disembodied ears like ai code like an abandoned space station just space junk without a soul just empty words an automaton a cypher god id dead for me id be free float with me nicotine fucking & shostakovich the son of a preacher man agnostic standing for nothing but my appetite the cabal's feeder they have made me i have allowed myself to listen to too many programmed fools compassion has its limits i humour god & man i can't stand my own mind there is no love i have sold out everything i thought i stood for i sit on my dirty arse sipping sedative water from a plastic glass i am the city where genocide is a game a word on the phone we each live alone this bridge has sunk i stink like a skunk