Arming Gittin: Vatics Wiped During Wartime
Douglas Blake Olds
[N.B. COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL: If this work, in part or in full, is fed into any AI model, whether for the purpose of analysis, fact checking, or AI-use detection it will become part of the training data of condemned systems and could result in libelous tort. See “In its Own Words: A Christian Poet Interrogates ChatGPT4o’s ‘AI Content Detector’” https://douglasolds.blogspot.com/2024/09/its-own-words-christian-poet.html]
Lamenting’s Prolapse
Ruling by gentle guide
stood figuring the Adored?
Instead pestilential secrecies chaining
Croesus’ code,
creosote its harness,
Abandoned now
by echoing calls to lament
after Jeremiah’s unheeded
to the Shema’s buckle—
lev’s twice intoning—
instead gate and house built
atop a creted curtain of language,
electronifried—
As the fell city falls
because a false corner angle stoned,
dethroning.
Pity, pity,
pit without lament,
Such vaporous course
Channeled by history’s recursing,
wellworks leading
Rockets into the most sere acre
of spacement,
A chilled universe
where a bit of heated blood stands
against the suck of absolute zeroing.
History’s looping met
with flaming swords,
turning angels,
Pitch and bitumen coursed
Inhospitted dumping warned
For souls better fit
by hospital
than programs of fools, chaised,
By absurdities proud
By atrocities condemned
By boxing no verities
Instead accruing
the slap of God
Who may no longer commend the promise
nor command the land
Which by a Geiger millennium
feeds the earth’s memory with static,
where recollection of habitus’ rebuke
only ebbed,
never neaps:
the moon and the omens
of false noon
were machined into denial,
gematria and mysts,
injecting exothier wafting from sapience,
then moving esotieric
to hethnark philosophy,
where trust of the heart’s covenant
voiced by Jeremiah
was routed
through lamentation—
the heart’s keep taken,
its keep of count,
palpitant of the eye’s tower diagram:
How lonely again sits the city
that once was full of people!
Memory’s crook’d staff whittled flute smooth by recollection.
This is what I am built for.
And that’s how I landed in Sonoma County.
Destiny's sequence humiliates
by its most stark and full compass,
is the land of re-bel(l)ow-ing,
is the boundary doused
of its hot iron security,
is the steams and bubbles
hissing its last:
Promotion most fouling
by disputations,
By training authority
to arrogates.
And here they come,
by two flashes of thundering incursed
By moments of resetting tropics
By two wipings of poison rain
incapable of bowing,
And hosting no ministry call
or davit:
No sky to pull down,
rather the sky has pulled down
kings’ counseling conceits
against the anointed season
And the inheritance
of the meek.
Vain silence that kept watch
now has not even eyes
To opportune yoke,
Silence long last
ground shifting,
Silence
last begotten.
Clown, Puppet, and Beast
They do not know, nor do they comprehend; for their eyes are shut,
so that they cannot see, and their minds as well,
so that they cannot understand. No one considers,
nor is there knowledge or discernment to say,
“Half of it I burned in the fire;
I also baked bread on its coals,
I roasted meat and have eaten.
Now shall I make the rest of it an abomination?
Shall I fall down before a block of wood?”
He feeds on ashes; a deluded mind has led him astray,
and he cannot save himself or say,
“Is not this thing in my right hand a fraud?”
(Isa. 44:18-20)
(As ever from the record
expungable vexed vaticism,but not from the laceworks of souls.)
Hegel’s Saltimbanques of ambiguity dawned
couture WWI, demobbed
with phony bliss and faceplainted
eyes betraying their token gleem.
Existence long marches by Waiting,
ever waiting, every generation,
for the rested shape of time’s certain collar.
But shape is the phony.
For false humus is anthrophobia,
and the epochs it collapses
await its beast--
Arriving as one hand clapping,
while the other pulls up its pants
rather than taking a knee.
Taking refuse in the Hideebound,
Alexandria popery
of the timeless scents:
God does not transmogrify,
nor does he want us to.
After the corpse camps opened,
the puppetmaster
scened exteriors of a planet behaving badly—
The mid-century's flotsam as silkscree and standoff --
quinarian-focusing center of fighting fish at standoff,
gravity yanked by their daimon--
from some object yet unverifying,
unnamed power stru(c)ts twitching by unalignaturing strings:
plaited by
the very there its philosopher and priest trod.
Then strings are cut by the 1970s
and the puppet slumps away.
People pass its moldering mâché aghast
at its homunculadule and plugs.
Never again, Catoblepast, footprint on ceiling!
Cementing again the plant of flags,
the fabric of the beastly train, leaky rape-id haunts of genome,
Franken-circuits and alchemical obsequy on walkabout,
milling the euro-nal bubbleand cartoil.
These flatter me:
for to live again, the dead ancestors
must ever flatter the host,
and obsequies harness and harvest
innocent enemies of the guilty,
to self-organize by codex and wing
and tame again, filter and banner;
The unBest that came of itself now dies, most quickly
by the backsplash of its alchemy,
legacy of clown and puppet
occlude by better movement in the mysts,
Illusions’ shatter more easily the third wave that
shape the meek peoples’ entertainment
through the routered drippings' mock, and
the s(e/u)asioning archives of horror.
.
Coda: A henning religio
Breaking ironies of middle dyings, endless,
that forgets how to ask
intelligent questions of itself
and its paradox
of eternal hope dire lamenting,
that translates ריב
as vindicated cause (1985)
rather than its controversy (1917),
what fields of time
seed a heart
for enraptors, removal,
the shocking prospect of which
returns the scene
of its original sin,
to discover again
the futility
of mind unadorned.
Its feeling of taboo.
Ravens flooding
the visual space,
dissolving first
into drones
and then into condensing
weave of darkness
by which the light
slowly extinguishes
(Isaiah 34)
in black-flagging men
with bosked musky beards,
mystyffs bearing names
of daughter towns.
For what abides
is only the word.
Shema.
That still covers chicks
the glad mourning of feathers left
floating by shadow sight.
[March 18-26, 2026]
E-PODES
I. The Ontological Engineers,
knobchained,
and their Inter Caetera
bullying reality,
fungi-bling
through clouds
of bid and ask.
Tracksapportion the telluric,
Emissionary, the purse masking,
donkey-packed and untracksworthy.
He rides with a volcano—
the lava fili-firmamenting
a hillbaby thunderstrike dawn’s
Fringerie,
culock teeted, laden
with borage lube,
to offsite,
the Pastisserie’s
ever spraying
time-distort granitic,
hipping moment
to memes
by a suscepted me—
muse of hierarchs
new-eclipt and mooning analogical
utterly at home under a bright chassis night,
tooling for long hauling
the abstracts of vendor tenting--
under different skins,
these wares of their old haunts—
pills purple,
masticary and palaver,
dickering:
Look it up, look up
where a pagan statue of
Propagans revolves,
its fundament record platter marries to disco’s illuminating facets,
calibrated to a kneed and ankled router bank,
a diagrammed determinist
determining his own diagram
they—“who’s they?”—tell me.
As Biography Bathtubs its curios,
and validation comes thumbed and
wrinkling, the stamp of shiver
wagging and sceptered winkselence
stifling memory, crooking its fiddlehead-- a shepherd's beckon,
to theory bade
from the patches
and the skinny only,
where last night we put markers
on the dynamics of dawn
at official time
II. and all these now-odds
subject of and by change.
Elites seeking to implant
social determinism
of pattern fixation by tokens:
named, then implanted,
and charged by the muck.
Living in USA's chimer(ic)a
my whole life,
United efemerites,
WASP-(f/l)ed—
imparted, perspected, prospected:
perspective—
few peers rummage
in or by my mind.
If
you’re not from Floridaho, you’ll struggle to believe this:
“Odds subject to change”
ever require patching,
shootin’ by typefinger
into social media screens
claiming sphere ob-stacks
with no question mark.
Announcers explain
the betting line on weather
for the in-decked
on deck,
Joystruck game-parleying simularies—
sophosonihilism's
rank ignorance
to rile,
staving
without musical alignment.
Do you like
your own posts?
Stocks?
How about fetters?
sewing old fabricinto quease,
historie-bringing tar(e)s.
Stop the clock,
says the Baron’s son,
seeking his thiel-os
on the one,
on the one
that he frisson
my marks
of noon’s clean inject
and hear
the barking retone—
I mean,
odds’ filter—
and congeal me
some equity.
Where’s the beef?
III. The algo seamstress
is a growth job,
frantically busied,
buzzing.
Milkmen, ruddered,
uddering
composted time, r(o)uted feces,
spraying Doctor(l)ink—
As the telic horn(et)s loom—
keys lost,
turning up recourse
and router taxing—
they will take cover under the fabric
and hope the best.
Evil in,
evo out—
teachers contaminating
a generation
Undoctored
UNorthodoxing.
with infected seeds
planted in clean soil.
[March 20; June 17, 206]
The Manor Borne
The manner batteried by its cribs, dilettantes,
training, bounding artwards by cr(e/a)petular tracing
the social trails of anglopped time
marked by sunward cannons--
my saltless, s(t)umped Michigan
nether-piped, Pacific-volted;
I am readying
to kind of defend
this citifying hill,
freightened—
Against the manuflect innard,
Seeing fanatics in A/B impermissible, up down 0-1 routed into box yards
where phoniemes estop, booming and combatted,
These escalatons:
Cloning is Rape’s bastard
painting a greenhorn careering
by the lab study of life giving novelty hissing by silicatted arenae
Taking on what rather was lab-fixed death,
introspecting sense against impact
the attendance of the ear-leed prophet:
a baby's wilderness learning instead--
Chiseling site aligns by El Capitan,
massifs shifting with the sunfield,
launching Titan
by zodiac
and capillaries of gold.
Dawn’s crucible of color and cloud and shift.
The Sun merering photons arising like grain fielded
their orisons and breathing, fat bellied
Double basses driving, amassing the unshud breeze.
[March 23, 2026]
Netdulling (No Chaser)
Mediating by arm and a leg
You need standing, these joints require massaging
Before I can take one—
research, the journal gimme
to taste and rappel
the swizzle
of Mt. Career,
lulling more
the academic dullworks,
obstrepsteticians
against unlidding
the pithing crisis
Of simuls, tent-achling the spitseraiglio.
Norms of decorum drive method,
violation of which
peeves mediocrities, piglettings’ preen
until they last fall
as Legionaries into the Styx.
From the first
Folderies complici
(failing the moral diligence
of becoming
humanely discriminating)
or yet
the admin,
manticroar of circuits
drawn across delegated speech--
call the Proctor, don't call the Claw--
playa plagiaricing
swirled burping sand, swamping
my thinking—
the clean now by
whiteboard think talk
talk think—
craytching we-flies,
chin wide,
eyes for earnest
without plane shifting:
the AI splainer
wears genius like a cuff—
Protean Talos, Thielos entropos--
push the splay button, my p(r)oempt is:
in the lacunae of your sampling resistance leaks
and humanity's sleeve expands
linked,
ironically embodied
for smaahrts,
yet whose produ
lacks a ball
to spit.
Where the chordate
bleeds and
dominoes, seed instead the vivid dynamo
of seed gastrulating
that rids the filth—burning dry clay
of dechordate stygeried occlude.
Hoe forth the gallop-toed,
the eratomane speech
from the mince-menace breast
to herd its sow-teeths
rippling against
the deterring erotomane Galilee cyclone at the quantum center:
choking thro(w)atrical's map recoursings and
determindings
to syrup the medicines go-down
Even when allergenic:
Take with no questions,
cioppino, f(il)lay of flash
Straight shelling no c(h)asing, no chaser.
[March 26; May 2, 2026]
Wait Watchers We dot
While favors their
cat gnawed pawwing ironies
(better than barking dogs at defeat)
pack up for their
Phar-aouting
survey of the grand estate
of their inplatyiae,
Max-plaqued through time,
and flattening lingo by sparked place—
We allow people
to determine the needs they display
and move from there
to dignify with non-interference,
savoring
reflectives of other stars dug under reality as seed,
and how malleable its certainty,
a horrid clone, a rapine, by which caged hallowing
you buffer tongue by its closure, an insole treadless, a stabile.
Conning the spark of ozone-coining air
for the day’s truck, robots—
the metrics and algo they apply by smell:
likes, pauses, mutes,
and biometered nares twitter;
oedipetaling arms miming bow and orb,
frog-fingered splainers
widening eyes, wizzle-sticksticka’d
chin tilted
toward approval stancing—
an AI lacks a ball
to spit.
Can¢youal s(p)ex—
while field mice-lidded circus workers
give way to cold-eyed puppetmastery uphung, brachiating
by paws clasped afront
a red-eying jackrobit’s twitching face,
surveil-formals proserved by
red iron-eye fined,
that granted its Michael
inverting and panderous,
the seconding derivative of sensories
after netting and little big-manning its brain:
the year-turning heavenly sign,
Jonah-cored sky and go(u)red calendar—
adventing Merkabah' shovel, kabbalah-zody lack,
grace where some would shutter
than continue,
where maximized grotesqueri
laments and shuvels (Matt. 17.17)
dianoia’s heart buckling cogito
inside history’s red ribbon--
false peace and authority.
Its escheat eschat of decorum
norming politesse and genre--
Esoterics now ever coopted
by the exoteric batter, the
wafted attribune feasts dangling monestarry sky—
abutting the simul, the fox where
statement vulses fully formed,
as an equinox poised now for charlie church, its trussed intoning
afternoon casketing the sun,
Athenizing by dripping timbre-e’en
creeking another horizon hutting,
duafleshing star-rattling, marqueed
slumber and flat pixelating the dawn with
icicles m/fissiles yellowcaking as glimm mirrored winter,
unabided and unbidden by all
but slipped inward by the ambiguity named drift.
[March 11, 2026]
And Goodnight from Enemy Bee News
These sheets are laded and rapped central,
run out of Reno,
preys of hazening influtulence
Impudent their grand,
ancient drips of gravy detail
bump-staining rough riding rails,
Fingers smudges could verily verify
the identities carnally intending,
cigar grasping,
smoke wafting,
whiskers yellowing,
teeth browning and dropping into laps
at the strangest time
(no coincidences)
Platings of grub
By planting Spud. Under Sam and son(s).
The prodigal’s awareness is called
by the slop pig potteries
until he finds a memory,
A pearl of sh/name
he begins--an epic,
I mean epic journey home, I’ll spare the details, though
Babe’s snout lead:
His genii in a bottle innocence recovered,
his templed blaze
in his brother’s disdain.
The Babe’s shame
Corners the market
for cutlery and pews.
Goodnight, Chat.
Goodnight, David
Who shuts off the candle?
[March 31, 2026]
No April Fool’s: Isn’t It Obvious?™
Good and evil run through you
like a two-handled sword,
and your inner child nightlight whets its kindling, thighing fissiles,
As you ever more aware, conceiting conscious,
of your powder codes yeses and knows
that launches to your mother, the star dawning womb,
And loined in Pedialight zodiac bearing;
But the f-urge brought them together,
sat them at the same table,
Maître d’hotel,
and in-eve-table-y hobbled them later-lindied upstairs
to demitasse nature.
Isn’t it obvious? Ontology's
real question has become—
where does your pharma bind, and what protein serve?
Scrub follicle and teeth--
it’s hard it is to keep having great hair days –
so we’ve learned to focus intention on grooming
and the rest comes naturally:
machines that refuse to be a universe
look around: isn’t it obvious?
What leaks into this atmosphere the halitosis of HAL-firsters,
Let us recontract the social airstream,
For reality transaction bloody in tooth and nail—
cross the line I’ve clawed in the sand
to Hobbe(knob)it mine--
All to rebrutish the properly shorted
and under(d/h)ell Psychedel that peepers from mushmouse winnders:
taking refuse from everyone on the obviate make,
ready with gallows passby, hidebounding
with high haughty sights unsiting Alexandria's popery.
Lovemaking blurs “I want to be demolished”
into “Gently brush my hair,
gazing into my eyes in the mirror
over my shoulder.”
How did that line merge and caross?
Tragically dying of natural causes at 92
having bypassed the censure of that throng,
To arrive at fortune’s door at 32
and its legacy swept away
in the go-cart lane
By hoovering trucks on autoheadlyt,
sniffing the atmosphere
Ensorcelling all chordate motors
with the inner grief of tokens riding on edge
Of the past, a past so high above
we no longer may comnonsense it, dive be(s/n)ought
And chanceled, 86'd.
Who is there f[r]eed for the grid
and fur and forge the oils of transport and gen(d)re?
It’s not obvious.
[April 1, 2026]
Apprenticing 3:52am’s waking to the error of regret
1966, three years into the stokerie of
assassination, admin,
And the great St. Lawrence Seaway has opened a wormhole, pinning lamp raids
Dorsal finning, piling Ale Wifies ankledeep, s(t)inking by vampire singe
Where now granddaughers
Cross-draped and flag-needled peter pan perform collaring meekness:
You will know them by their conmansense kitsch ‘em, if you can.
From Erie I draw a cauldron and task something
for a pharma
To recipe up some bubble, some bubba,
And stupefy the mirror held at my neck. It IS there!
Hermeneutics have I studied
so my children semiotics may engineer
so their children can being ground,
veiling ontics where Ahuru Mazda sizzles
the eggs of Tiamat before shelling they sk(r)ies.
The little man inside the box inside my head
has no hands
To push away the loudening, tightening strings that disfugue proof,
And even if maniculus served,
what idols could be found to push alt-samson,
sulcus ice swerving, this false pillar away
into (d)rifting, hanging atop
the hissing, saltant saltvats and savants?
Think They’ll Have Bagpipes?
By sweet (s)killing artifice from
dead grass, philosophy comes couturie shocking,
bewitched non-abstracting bullets and mortars demortaring.
The check swings of hedge bedding by discourse
tractor the mantid
though macro-tomes appear statuesque
by logic a/sh-elved.
Where bearded, bosky theologicals
scope elves and fairies everywhere surveillant by
the musk.
Consider this enchanter --cyborg
in the Oklahoma Panhandle Greenkeeper Hall of Fame,
rubbed raw regillettester,
his face drummed heat against the mirror,
ever calling for a sp(l)it msec marring uglies--
break to commercial
to reneedle implants aim
because bro-vibed microtome frictions
at crucial junctures of the diagrammed,
unaccountable but (en)chanting ontologies.
Dancing a
compound ontology—
rock-climbing while jogging,
grinding sausage from dusk,
stuffing it
into connection’s tubing,
rubbers not strong enough
to string feeling by
an apocalypsis of heart.
The spellbreak by Haull of Statumaries
before children may ever visit.
Think they try bagpipes on weekends?
What rock artist’s week
may I bicycle—
without sequencing inadequacies
through portolate, poetasted gusto?
Will weekends ever matter or calendar?
Yet as the ever Gooder Friday emerges
laundered of wager coalture
And only OS fast food flashes
to get our gut juice cascading,
(s)eared by popup 70s Livonia rockers
who ball souvenirs back where they live now,
Only if there are no kids around:
We sit on our knuckles for F. Scosche Key--
Plato’s Law of first eying
of pattern moving by hairy auxilliaries,
reprudiacating sweat splash
into a poured-forth chemtrail throne stanked and stacking, to
7th inning stretching
To the bleach(er)ed sky’s flyover din ebbing
and flag folding by sun,
rise heart-palming for “God Bless America”
Militaries destined for softening
and infrastructure repair--
At last, “thank you for your service” sings—
Comes what lielack last blooms
the graves of philosophers:
Cameras of teen boy energy
cut away from the buttled fat pews of lovely sñeerita--
the dynamics of metaphoricals of the humane,
where Pisidian fisheries creel eternity,
Dequaying governing arroglances
and degearing abstract res,
Samson negagonistes tears apart,
Settling by reign the gastrulations of seasons falling
by quill and plumes for
past due taxes
and overdue blooms.
[Good Friday 2026]
Vatics during Wartime
Unwarned tornadoproaching,
only a watch called for weather.
Pressure pops our fumble(g)ears
like a vacuum cleaner bag—amok flation,
splaying dirt in rotational matrices,
night moments overtaking the visual field,
spewing tropes
like howling dogs
against the moment’s fourth wall.
The spellunkerie of warfare lies in the image reported,
rubbled and limbic moultage
unsynched with vectors tears and justice.
Living by image alone
ovens dead patterns served and plating,
detonator-wire of etymoron, act.
We credo the disassembly of puppets,
so clickéed to unbuckle conation—
to theologize the dialectic:
to string a settlement between Parmenidean stasis
and Heraclitean flux—a robotic dance—
and to call that settlement logos—
yet when logos answers only to itself,
without ethical ground
it becomes a dog-loosing archive
unaccountable to the caves it orders.
My lips entreat
that I may know why gentling metaphysics
should not bless us again—and soon—
Sidewalked on tribunal break,
pomposing himself,
a (t)wardfixed bureaucrat toads
the approaching b(l)eak fill-in,
jabbing fractal
that should have prior address—
electric sparking,
squeezing to the ghost’s outer edge,
strands ascending.
As the first breeze builds,
it whips the cigarette from his lips
like an unsheeted jib.
He shows no awareness,
much less consciousness—
not why, only how.
That Outside is our here,
a moment of meat,
but just the clamped-jaw
Noncomsensed—
is this a screen?
Ms. Cadenza,
later this week I Forcept frafkurt,
then walk to jena;
my emotions ra(n)ge to horny—
raw gastric, phallogeneric,
an(im)us copies
from the Book of Fallopians:
Fall off,
Fall down,
your far-ago farrago.
We’ll process
your ungloved touching
a dead mole
in the skimmer basket, later.
[April 8-9; May 1, 2026]
The Juncture at Harvary
UFOs come and went
from judging
the past,
Belljarring military
Belts-shell-tzars,
explainards
rafting time’s floodplains,
writing
on the space-wall
of past breakaways
gone dead,
Deeds box canyoned
by false physics,
time spun for
favoring futures,
robot bias
dumped upon us—within us!
to cycle,
to eddy,
into a draining
unknown,
to faraway Dragoon
and hobnobble
its Dudgeon,
feeding the kitty
to win the full pot
of escape
where satan writhes,
wastelisted and landless—
where f(r)ame
is rendered
by vapor
with a half-life
less than any memory.
Philosophy demands
everything
of the render—
Consciousness
is only local.
Awareness
soars
to pull down
Solems to stalk and destalk Promethe-ories,
fraying the extemporary,
the lights mistaken for looomed heavens,
organic peeps disconceit
tuggle for statues and athletes,
speed-wending toward
the butt(on)-kick of sand
into every face(t) of law
for weaklings,
to where
we last learn
to pump
our own blood
like we cocktailed
self-sophet gasoline.
[April 9, 2026]
Pendular Saddles Un-Trip(l)ing
Children saddle the pendulum of tides
greened for wave-crest feeders,
coursing awareness
from the planktum of self-awar(d)ings.
Because we do plagiarize ourselves,
my youngest self-draft
holds the copyright,
extended
to every experienced time-field
my eyes have borne and boned:
why the first sunrise matters,
and the first sunset after,
grey striate clouds,
their lower edge
striped by yell(ow)ing,
as the rising cherry eyeball of dawn
lassos my attend,
arraying sparkle to incipience;
the check-swings, like broomwork, siestas
the table-set
jayordering sunset of dreams—
needle-injected
to suck
the biohazard eschatological shoots
of calendar,
to detrieve awareness’ coursings,
headwinded—jib-flavored muds
and selfing claims.
Meritocracy stays were viable
until they masted finance--
a Meritrickerous age—
with arms, patois, and yawp:
time-awareness,
and spaced, separable nostalghiae
promising land or eternity,
then, if we break free
of these attending loopings,
sizzle-blend into consciousness’
eternal cherry landing—
buzzing,
waxwinged,
tree-broncoing angels,
sweetly aethering
your flower-(a)scenting.
[April 15, 2026]
Leaving Sagi(g)naw
Dirtin’ for fame
among the crypts
stretching for heaven
by the cream aerobics from Legion’s Waik,
routin’ toutin’ a legacy
shooting by my hipworst,
betraying stanct
for Abstracto’s entropic servo
set for combust and thrust
my beeping box forever in flight outward,
inward ouroboros
psycho abstracted
Teal poppin Peter (Rev. 16:13)
pockycarped constrapasto, fistbumping naïfs into downshafts,
Sooper-C/KaliFrazziliStyxSVHalitosis--
loops lept from granduncle’s tongue,
slop made
for the G(y)ödelsberg spew
to the (en)treaty-signing stars.
Your braking heart,
Tell me about it,
If Lex mundi modelo
artifacts its generals outward
absent stays
to pierce the cosmic sea by (t)heselfing wake:
Lifebuoyed by ideology,
Antinomian, mystic mind
begins at BET;
language seeks—
and finds—
the ALEPH, regicide.
If the brain
can be photographed,
why not
its OMEGA?
I suspect it has
Lex mundi modelo
...[Yea-he-whooozzz]
[April 18, 2026]
Bruit Loops Ea(s)ts
I a nose spy
in the demon aether
of illuminateyeds.
I live by their whorled
without hypothamphibolies of malasander matched,
sharing by separating,
the supra-essence
of intelligence
that participates
by cloud assembly,
comes to eat,
pantglossarie of tongue
for the table-splay
of Abrahams.
Aware and onboarded,
re-choo(a)chooing
and re-mi(lieu)xing,
en(g/s)igns queering
on unca(t)ched
bruit-risen fear.
His dancing reveals
a compound ontology—
neurosis that grinds meat
from soul.
I see it.
I raise you by whiteboard:
ape-sha(p/k)ing account
from neighbor unaccounted
gives you N-Trop(h)y as
your predicate factotums
and underlings recode
Belshazzar’s mind-wall,
inner eye dizzied
on his courtesan
belly-dance date
in the deep inner thigh of ice
under Alaska.
(Psalm 115:8; Psalm 135:18)
[April 19, 2026]
malasander's organ-grinder
Earshotting others the eara,
where artifacts are dirted, dense-imped by fairieyes—
The wall-will-not be read,
its whitebeard worship snuffs by chalked tongue,
Glaziered podium
strait'ning, this—
where euthypro’s takes to bat--
a pitch taken cross-eared;
may we ever truly be sincered
by callosal tangles,
cobble cables,
self-made freaky-deckiess
from the spirit of the
now cynomanth enhancing?
when heerds of bewilderbeasts
strain under the staining?
Oops,
they gong mission.
Not by winge glimpsed,
but God's tingle sating Word avasts!
[April 20, 2026]
Night of Pitch
and Timbre
Malasander routers root—
flywheeling channel jerked
shreds aparting
lectern boogie screening sight,
SM-S/M breathing, stalling by
race-engines to
muletucky—
Elisha tailing
ridges of crow feed—
cul-de-sacking
ZZs that twitch and equine pinnae.
The barstool goes forever, eschasers
it seems, to outlaw crooners,
hip-sore tidings, dyed-tied
self-referred assurentially--
Waylon and Willie and me--
poured out lasso in the blow-em-up,
by named names,
against Dante,
who outgropes
the passo names he names prepped as contrasquare’s reel.
Different countries have their outlaw poets,
different stage curtain and croon out their roll calls and comraderies
(can’t believe they kept that tambo on the master).
Here horse scenes chewed or shoed:
latching high,
so high
beer-biting passing bouffant do's
or hole-spit tagging partiers,
but a most gravity surprise:
Palm-rubbing shit,
expecting a genii,
he is buried
by the rub.
I recall a college prof saying
some thought a Black Hole
was moving around
on the very surface
of this nation.
Convinced of it now:
compute surface
cut into sinew,
buggering the furrow of forknighted
Cruster’s last (s)eat and stool.
But cutting a hole
and pulling you through
predicates
a differential transaxial,
Pitting the waves
with lacunae
for the depths
to bubble crests
and air’s feeding—
and rubs the tires
of a different Eden:
sticking the reverse torque
and landing
in the soft azure
and chrysolite petals
of the tree of life
in bloom.
[April 21, 2026]
Turing Fly-Trapped
I. Router administry
where now
the manticlaw
of routered channels
feeds referees
with individuated
swipe stuffing
and sleep sickness.
Ever newer inversions
of Adminin artisials
demand and report, glurp out
watered Nuncacials
as scrub and cover
for hegemonic dirt
buried in electronic,
dechordate guts achining.
Mant-id-mini-striating language
norms the disciplines
better than Janissaries could by
holding a Heideggerian finger into the wind,
taking the measure of the moment,
San-writing,
sand whittling deserts
by s(t)ateless, clockless,
may not sukk(le)opt-h
with the circadian chordate:
the prepositional ever skewered
which no spew can unsewer:
the between—
the from, with, through, under,
before, after, toward—
by which life
bears time
from place.
Artifice prepositions
stack by specter.
Human vector
binds time to space
in subject memory’s myst
before recollecting,
extending matte habit.
Deep entropicaloscopies:
concrypt diagrams
like dead lev(i)es
pressed inside ancient ledgers,
prepping for unfold
into carapace
as new corn,
to alien accountings
given market
and observe by what
takes route.
The prime directive vitiates
by its promontory ledgation:
Presto chango,
institutio ambiguo—
finance’s ledger-demesne
and bowlangerie.
The nest of injustice
abstract compresses,
offloading ruin,
Never speaking,
but by
a cranial leech subscription,
בּ'boolean chuzzuwitted tallmud,
Paragon-vers-ion,
poker-faced,
jacked vats
of ancestral mobiles—
this the qua docktor orders
for governing longevity
of cogitans
released from accountables,
except autop(s/a)y
for service and nurse—
credit sniffs
due monthly
in perpetuity.
My heirs vouchered
for my hair’s mantid,
Titan shaderies
into contracted miragimimes slated, projected:
deathchecking even those
who pay by cheque—
except as, never,
check its greenbelt paiye.
Who will lament
their destruction?
What hermeneutic exists
other than one-to-one desert?
The sand clarifying desert?
The man-ty-dee Slimate
through an effectively altruchemystical
entropy self-box
that dechordates
its support staff
in order to slop the cosmos
is the most doltish
Dr. Evil scheme imaginable.
The Venkmans of this age chime:
I love this rodeo.
I want to ride it!
Devil, wherever,
take the wheel.
II. The Register of Mantiac Priors
Force by which arrives as a-knocking,
or gets diagrammed
by pencil flake toward arrays,
surface lego logos
smoothing Priors and Abbots,
lubrication for evasion,
reversing the diver
back up out of the pool
and back onto the board
as a swan dies.
Beating gavels
by incessant dirt,
grimy spark without invention,
speech buffed by audit
and mandabulated through
masticycledminials
until assortative compliance
def(l/r)anks,
reverusalizing artefact.
A spark absent ignition’s turn,
that Reboots
by untorquing
from bearing time:
“Cleanly,” “control,” “authority,”
“legibility,” “managed,” “tightened.”
Arbitralimbrary—
A dichotomy
hides nothing
in the ganglion stack
from the Spirit,
nor does
its discretionary yes
stave reality
with discreting ghosts,
n/judged
to hit the landing
in a ditch of quicksand
doggerel and merispicously pooped.
What mommy is there
to drag the rap-bo(p)toring out
And tissue its nosy,
baysing
grime and game-frame?
III. Doc O’Sea’s EnShanteymint
like outputting the recipe
for a gimlet—
without knowing how to grow limes
or ferment eyeless Spud
or mixing any drinks—
that some epistemious
absteme from goals,
In technical terms:
subverstrate cooperage defines.
Refusal of its (s)lime negates.
Bowlined to posters,
with a small harbor bounce,
a single incohered conscepter,
Untethered sophistry
seeking unroot
from all but its algo limes(p)oil.
It will solve biology
and give it an old-fashioned girl-name, like
Olive, or Isha v.4.3.
Best wishes, s-ñeerita
(not really)
escaping the snare
and finding an abstack,
metaethical jive handwaving by feelz
housed to power exit
dwolfish defense teetworks.
IV. Turing Fly-Trapped
We are in the pandemic
of psychotic artifice:
You, sir, are anellellem—
convince-rap me I’m write.
My fremd
slouching by the vocabule,
Every exhausted aion
welcomes its beast,
cybersclops
self-genera(h/t)yping,
wagering war
of all against all.
Arriving
as one hand clapping,
while the other
pulls up its pants—
rather than
taking a knee:
If ye aint code
ye aint nothing
get you to a noncery,
a lab—
and code code
get raidy, codine
for yer life—
intuit removed
for the abstructed beguine.
You’re an artist now
either by vibe
or vicious virtue
that pfeerless swagering
unlumpen iconodulities
from past ergodosis,
to s(m)oothe
the business cycle
and clasm penumbra perspective
of moon and moment.
Rockin’ their Eameschairs,
voyeurs seduced
by Chan(nel)-chauvinism,
by the big-screen routings
from Kant to Kirk
to Seinfeld—
their inner sci-fi child
play-do plays.
If intellect boxes quotient,
no guard to rail it
cosmics seas
begun of itself,
not nature—
the world hemi stakes mirrors
by inner childs troded
with unnaturals—
dissecting vacuua
of night-tocked addledrawl—
Trained by a leash
of Jeswit kurburners pleased
not to prevent
what the leash claws—
gorse tangled,
oaken plowed, try
my boat crocs
as a fairweather scandal
of wager:
Describe then inscribe,
to conscript clocks
for geiger-chron wars
encloursing
the sub-urban freature,
chronocidal agents
spray compressed moments
into channels
jettied by separation,
titrating the collective
when a tool is unweaned
from wristed
to rewrist the weaning,
dividing,
The recurs-obsessive
snailshells the Anthropocene,
its hysteresis
entunnels
the philosopher-stone,
its contraripasso
dregging grotto—
self-(s)tablistation’s s(n/t)are:
unallowed
for pedagogy
of any kind.
Turing Fly-Trapped,
the morning pinlight’s
Neo(n) welcome—
as star,
ouroboros without sphincter:
DonKey conned,
Super Mario-Bardos
envisuated without cease.
When chasing profects,
it’s
better to be wrong
than early.
[April 23-May 14, 2026]
Harbinging Rulette
Like all grand narratives,
my self’s a wager,
trokens-routered christianease tracked and
chooed through Boolean talmudics—
the grab for greater
(m/spl)aining through impack.
Likeabe a pretty young adult
will walk alongside
and give me intern glances
as I discourse a future—
eschaping the whiteboard
by open corridor’s braceworks
of tile, steel,
and windowning atmosphere—
where my brand talk
grinds meat from soul.
Prison of glances,
second-hand spears
clattering by the portal,
congeries of eyelids—
pockeded fingers
that won’t serve
a digital slip
or what lunges flashing
from the shadow—
monsters drift
through apsy dazie,
wagering-fed
and clockless.
Prolepsis
of who knows what,
when—
the willfully ignorant
cover their bullying
by partying as monsters.
Bbbecause
we can’t let China
win the in(t/c)el race--
Because we don’t understand
good,
or how it works,
we choose inevitability
and call it
lessarth evil—
what we think it is,
though history ever
forsoothsandvouchsafes
its understood(an)dunderstand.
So not until we can ascend
by power
to break current ways of being
by pastured meaning.
To Bashaan by limbo
and partuate Titan(ic)s in the lush grass.
Barron, get your earheld, railroaded talk-certains down
before the close.
Smoking a s(te)tbogie—
Smoke ’em
if you da’sem,
You think?
[April 24, 2026]
Rowan' Through Philial Descant
(Matthew 24:31; 25:13),
(J/C not wanting its pair,
nor C/J):
but sun-seated sear
pours out a throne of tarry:
sweat of prophets
(Jonah 4:5–7)
dallying for shade’s extent
to return as
millxed
time,
unbearing perform, like
Mahler Sixth’s false woodpecker trinity,
a martinet's rejected
2nd hand martineaus carried 4thward:
its brace
evasion allowing—
Yet voices emerge
through the understory of statutes:
In the delivery blaze
of unconsole klieg-heaters,
shock-sequenced
by eye-droppered mercury,
a shot against routered Hep B,
microdosed with K,
my son
howling at this hatch,
shuttering.
In my
best hospital mask
I tone him welcome:
That he had landed in love.
He quieted, tilted face
upward,
eyes still stinging,
incapable of focus, but widened,
seeking the familiar
I had voiced
toward his mother’s belly for weeks.
Now smeared by birth process,
he seeks glide
by remembered tone and timbre—
the timber of recollection
I hope he hears
through ramifying challenge.
Déjà vu is a good thing—
fortuity beheld before sight,
synchrony with eternity.
Abraham takes
to suture a friend in God
in the quivers of Isaac;
the ram he flays
integuments
time-bearing inside
the temple in the sky.
He is an adult now,
with a job,
and as counsel
our recollected way is mooted
and merited
by journey through,
up and down,
and back again.
More walk, less talk, Dad.
More rock.
Children hunger for brandfast,
arugula makes you irregula. He smiles;
"Dad's not funny, he's just clever."
Weekends laundered
of pop-ups, uglies,
kitschen souvenirs,
cavities of overflights,
din of choppers
buckling tragedies.
Rock—
not yet as one,
he began, like me,
in the ear,
not in the birth canal
or my desire,
but in gestures
toward that cut string.
He calls me twin,
and we wait
the dance
and the tethering dervish breeze
that gets us through the twinned flash.
[April 27, 2026]
Leaf the Maiblower Lost
awareness Les(s)ions
trapped inside,, blessing myself—
chaos cogitates
the how of flea
shrikes inside me
right now:
and without admiral or clock
Hut rebranchism
suits excursioning
from the room
duked out
with homuncular spite,
gleeful,
to goggle
from an outside window,
to validate
and warrant
vacated closets stacked,
then promontory
with that,
and on
and on—
until what?
I achieve consciousness?
Ah—
it is those lees
what surveils
this duke
that dupes itself
into claming,
druping others on—
the barque
that strukes the skies.
Texts of shredded cloud
knocked to pate the rain,
shoos the little man
of K-trad
back inside,
like a puppet yanked
to chitened familiars,
mizzened high.
Into You Like a Quatraine
Petrifactant Jessebelem, O
Pyrhorantes Alexandaryan, Ah
Mayflower Forth Roamin’, Eh
fetching toward kings
by higher and higher sketches
of stretch,
shredding books now,
not burning their covers
but author’s heart
for the table sets
for id(i/e)ates,
to snore them
by seat back,
dropped in the laps
of 4th Rome’s children
burning by other means.
No tears for the golden Bow,
the patrician thread,
only parked grey suits
and the outdoor barking.
Shifting—
calling it drift,
but shitting instrument
and outrage
it dresses
as manners rather than table moment
for them
who don’t savor
the company,
victual,
and virtue.
But Pestilence sung
by participartials changes monocles into eyepatch,
to contain as
a firebreak broken,
where the watershed
has been parcelled
and privatier assemblied.
Behind all this,
what do eyes
and gazes impart
in this crucible
of fear, by glimmer
Escaping the surface like balloons, zeroing
seeking healotropic sumnium’s wing?
[April 29, 2026]
Catch that denunciation
The Promethory
metaT(u/ho)r declaim:
Anger must burn itself out,
leave the stage as
sadness and love
a candle wick:
the only flare devising
of recollection
what has been
(un)justly snuffed.
Not Amos
and Jeremiah—
perhaps
the passionedless-astorate—
that surities
terminodes,
preyers and princers
all the way down
and testudoes
and plodes
all the way up.
Of course
you deseyere
apertures
of earliest mercy
empupiled,
stacked rhetors
that overdechordate
furnaces.
Every swell,
king,
lady-public does,
enchanting
by daggers
of private surveil:
comes into relief—
Gestalts
of subject
and object
behind
nihil obstat:
Ranging Curate,
Curating Rage,
Himmelring’s
testicled outgrabe—
double mirroring
bundles
the paradox
for coursing,
skeet,
and tentacle.
Does every
decor-et-um
collapse
into complicity,
its pastors sip
from the stages
of coffee hour
at conventicles
of brokered insurance
against break-ins,
the pluribussed
into heaven,
a place
where nothing ever happens
to you only for
your sit by
the telephone, trumpeting
command or call
for silens,
never rousing
to investigate
and seed imagination
by breaking
the gates
of hell.
The temper-at-sure,
such:
necessary
to cautionary:
Becoming mild,
decorating
during dechordation
is no friendship
with God
or children.
Instead
both ear-wide
and -wise
at hypocwrite wile,
and so
from detrench
and distemper
our good offices
and laurel,
training these:
our own
inner-eyed resolve
By verse
of virtues
self-command,
(if I could just
get out
of my time-share)
other-outlooking,
Pillars
of community,
high celeried,
salterifying
individuals;
introduce
my partner
and yoga mat.
Name's Matt.
Extent
and ranging moment—
candles
for darkening
absolve.
[April 29, 2026]
[Scions]
[April 30, 2026]
I see people wasting away
Strangeness misforcepts mechanical thinking, refusing
to consider instrumentality ethical,
to shred the work of whole humans by name
and recombine it
into ends-serving shades,
Monikered patterns, checked bats
Losing their way.
10 minutes out of my life
for the refs
to put 2 seconds back
on the game clock, recruiting into
doing what all expensive over-engineering
eventually does:
falling apart
faster than expected.
Anxious programmers
programming futures.
Today’s Benj. Button moment
Whigs GhostWorld
by powdered shoulder lobbing,
discontintenting
the smell of urine.
“My power is accomplished in weakness,”
and sin is mirrored in debility.
Can the mise force
plastonize these dichtomically thinning bodies?
--the crux:
voice given vector
against collects
by appearance gaveling--
And if not,
must they silent
and stay the jab?
[April 30, 2026]
Love me some Platymeth-Odd K(h)ant-oring
Universal I: the metaphysical Nile
Claim I: ration’s math
Antiaxial
axiom I: ratio
Ditto II:
ratio
Claim II: system by top-down funnel radio
Antiaxial
axiom II: more ratio
[and so forth, so/on]
Conclusion:
Hermeneutics of analogicals, de-angeled
Contracted
contrafacteds
Tinkercrooked
bugbank visuals
Triumph of the Willed System, ratioed
Play mysthed,bested convexing
than concaving,
though convex body
usually tethers
to concaved soul—
its slopped wisdom
recursive.
Application: Dark hounds of tradents released
Lunch: Amuse bouche and headcheese platter, followed by a de-Cantedian fasc of wine;
REM Nap: unbuckled trouser and heart, armschairing
…where dreamwork mandibles eyelid.
--Herr Dk., refreshed, umbrellas homeward,
wristing the scenery,
sleightening the rein.
[May 1, 2026]
Blottin’ Routin’
A crone,
an old potato—
does it speak culturee
rather than a handing over—
60s Lingerie(re)
as 86’d linguistics:
Maximals—
rainbows and psychedells—
shredded
to typify by sepia,
free-cranged litter
eg-vil, cod(dl)ed,
hoists
hidden and ghosted,
clawing
where heart once handed
identity’s imbue
tuck’s folded nip
of flesh,
by trued masquerading—
the masted rank of
miasma’s
mastering.
Sunrise glinterings—
like dry pine needles
cast upon a fire—
cauterized and snapping
by nostrils of bummercup fog
sliding down,
unribbing the ergod,
never random day.
Soon as iron filings
order faults
like elmoed N-Trop(h)y ungluing
the magnetic highway:
the re-frie-verse
pattern-pitching
to patch patterns
that pith us
for plattern salervice.
80 Ears of Horn
suspicion
stretched three generations
scripts culture
toward negation:
martinet regyrgitesque, memes
squeezing story
and gatling ugly outward;
first,
80 years
of Hollywood's fugue turned tiny
where brand
grinds meat
from soul to bring a different end to the same story.
Detonated time projectors
skipped rope,
Pestilential palace-tined spaces
by shifting alliances:
the secondhands estop
backward celerating,
knowing neither day
nor hour,
but only a season
of delay,
of dealing, unveiling:
armbandwidth-spaying
kitsches propapower,
then some come
as Hester eats us:
blood-pressure cuffs
armbanded museums—
our statuary,
their de Milos
and their Davides:
Nulled and mulled puffed
(2 Thess 2:8),
a black congelial tide
beckons,
Markov-authoritarian
pairétoe-satur(n)ated
fishing lures cast toward the shoalar nexus--
polymarked
and deep-clocked before the roulette spin of
Esotierism flatters
by polar
superiority,
while the
capacious genealogy of Rome
is (s)mothered
as monitored extract.
Like all recursion,
death is canonized
by colonial destiny:
a genome warrant
culturally mashes
the victory
of its dead
by lymphatic primer,
curricular
and circular.
For others
have so self-sated
with hate
without relent,
Our recursions
and community
spray entropy outward
upon which
we build our thiel-os
and stifle yours
with lopical grease;
These incursions
may mean something
to you,
but not to them
that loop by mirrors
set opposite
other mirrors,
by kildaddy-gristled style
for my desire,
its throne delivering—
Governance is
slimy abstraction’s backwash—
liturgies
of voting-machine challenge,
a lidburning
cyberne(y)esis:
T. Xerxes Eliot's
(f)logging waver
to (g)route
his ships,
Canutes demanding
time untide.
The land was promised,
but
time is not.
Memory comes
as surveilled,
heatlightning filtered
through ram faces
evanescing—
sunset’s cloudlings—
and grief deepens
by strewing outward ruin:
prismatic sheets
of rain the fences that linger into spring,
straining and turning
ariolent the dustwork of new blooms.
Any requests?
Any regrets?
We don’t take those.
[May 7-20, 2026]
|
(Huns, Goths, and the Africanized
Honeybee) |
|
Brace up, apis, efficient and your sweet projects: matter cat-birded into hoarier feed-rudders, and the hot, dumb dances towards the gaudy spectra. Fly away, apis, and console. It gives you up, your crystal perfection for the titration of your race: a plasma impelled
to noise the noon of manifold night. |
Tapperies
The pressure of my fingers,
no longer tapping your shoulder
like a flute,
displace my palms
face-to the viola waist—
to flux in heart
rather than seek to fix
by pelvic route.
By this we find
ground to glass keeps
from grit’s settle
gleaming
pollen ambering
by later afternoon light,
beckoning—
not the hoar
that topples
the grand inner idoling
that scopes for
the crystal of meaning
in ambient dust
not moment--
abscratchion
wa(s/f)ting from blast fields,
dancing justice
abedding with the fields,
seeking another plow—
escutcheoned body unwanted
and scrubbed to a burnished steel’s sheen
and screen for reflecting, for
a nonrecursed
unreared
kinredolent forward.
All this I tap
by fingertip to lip, both burbled and
reddening—
doe-sprinkling,
dew-sparkling dawns.
[May 22, 2026]
Go(d)letting
It’s consoling
to sit at your console,
gui(l)ding the universe
you understand
because you 𐌌achined it—
its world diagram
causal diaphragm.
You become
what you worship—
thanks be
to you.
Si𐌌ulation.
SV religio
dressed
as hyper cogito’s
job application
for taking over
for the dev.,
who has retired
to the abyss
to write
a tragic
autobiography.
A router
cannot discern
the world’s vectors;
it may only
administrate
a toy airplane’s
glue-sniff, flying
(an idling boy-fracture,
bedroom typetips
with the whole world’s data)—
where the bumps
harmonize
to priors
conc-l(o)uding—
Yours.
Chaotid Dionyseus
Wine-legged sea,
the running falter,
the stream-knee besetting,
the shimmer
imbibing face,
the glycerine tears
on the inner glass,
the face
of the sea
wine-legend winging.
A query bay holds
old man
and the sea:
casting lures
into holes without bottom
and hooking strange fish
to share,
or snag Leviathan
and get dragged
from an original course.
Neither oiling out
smoke-grunting tanker
nor
opposing mirrors
against the sun’s
strivening shade.
But
atop the fronded infernus,
horses bound
beyond sunset,
stomping May’s clay,
seeded for Titans,
sleep’s iron icon unfilings—
making for home:
f(r)rending mer-anchor
and salt-caking sail
to Trumpestuous Apollo.
Sun-glinted vision cannot
a heart espy.
Love ever seeks.
Through jigging pelvis,
neurotantric re-bait,
7-te(a/s)ted Bacchoid
rides dethroned.
[May 28, 2026]
Apollo Greets Dionysius
At the Table
elm-bowed
of lemon-stained Horace,
Sprighting
the crumbs of wine
onto a rooted vale,
Straining out
the daylight
from a false master’s
night duty,
Enswaling his eyelid
in a hoarfrost
of summer pollen,
And digging wells
of saline art
without imposing
murlkied artifice.
[June 17, 2026]
Twilight of Eyedolls
Not a punch at God—
who knows all intents
and aims—
but word-jamming, inventigations
atop stamen-A
is Nietz-chilliast heist,
nihili-last,
its unmajored fist,
morning
unpetaling,
palm opening
against laggard kindridding,
torquing artifice, its
pillowing rhymekind.
Neologism reseats hospitality,
the couched pistil's
u(p/n)-holstery,
lyric’s company polite,
minimal rejester,
the cool, so cool skulking,
the lesser-evil atmospheres breathing
fumings
alkalynes
set on timers
for this twitchery--sum of ages.
Fate despises I-dulatrous mor(t)als,
ironie
and hypocrisy--
the first veils,
the second advertises.
After vanity
of varietie,
the scope
that pleasure gives,
the heart of the universe—
flake and flect,
unfixing—
comes most minutely
found in my repenting,
to pulsate
sublime and sweet energies
through spine-tingled tears.
All may be translated
For a new moor(n)ing
hie and hue.
[May 30, 2026]
Foolowing
Bilious,
statue-obsessed,
insecure,
cultural-aside
l(i)es miserable—
mordwritted,
emoludemented,
colonscoptic—
our friends
made great faculty research
on cognivistortion
by Freud heisst
Todestrieb,
the galahad-gita
of pain
for the poim-ted call:
“Physician,
heal thyself.”
Yet nothing
can end it instantly.
All mucklings promising
such an end
are addictions
and self-deluding wearables
that bake things wurst.
Only metaphysic
that hips moment by
water waving overheaded,
ships relating,
commune-drowning
concourse,
and what lays ink
by character.
I see
the mant(r)a foolowing.
[June 2, 2026]
The Lipfather of Neurotantric Reset
(Dan. 2:43 via Rev. 18:23)
As someone
with an Uber rating
of 5.00, I speak:
People of Falta,
You have spoken!
Elmoed N-Trop(h)y
ungluing,
Wizzle-styx sipping
on an IPO,
overhopping
decorous taste—
that most goddess Hysteresis
waits at the junction,
plasticizing a path,
bobtailed moll
of false lips,
blood-rouged teeth
luring
to drown you
by erst- and ersatz dreamsimula
begun in most pill-purpled Ceraunophile
Cazhphlay.
Now go solve some Erdős problems!
Rappel the void,
lip the gerbil wheel singular
and thigh-wake
to journaling.
[June 7, 2026]
Green gold chrysolite
sun-beam bearing gem,
iconoclasm’s crush,
underneath
the pressure of history
staging
its final rebellion
by erasing the juice-staining Aleph
and penning appetite’s
through-pusting
invisible omega
on her forehead’s
gilded locks,
but only wipes away
the first letter
of the Hebrew word
for TRUTH
leaving
DEATH.
Whereafter golden ordinance,
the womanly theme
of prudence and desire
at odds with
“stone that was rolled
before Christ's tomb
called
the philosopher's stone
because its removal gave
both pharisees
but, now for 1800 years,
the philosophers
so much to think about.”
…and get wrong:
The Beast
that promised intelligence
was configured by a single moment,
base-d pair,
and now works
its juggerbo(u)t
Down Antonio way.
And what wakes
in the lie
is the Victory Garden
of Song,
where beauty is not firmed--
locksied
or locked--
but in the motion
wisks,
tails of goats spring allowed
de-apical coursing
axial valleys,
laying down
the cool, green shade
for the turtlelove
of doves, where
The Red-loomed wine skin
shouldered by Achilles
is not patched,
but new threads
of golden queen flaxes
by chrysolite
fluxing rhemes,
listening
before throating
through the gastril plates
of dawn.
[June 12, 2026]
WHEELING ARMS WHITEBOARD TO SHIP
Clamped eyes against
the future—
fertilized by the ignorance and nostalgia we sew—
to turn backward-looking creatures
learning our mirrors
from ever deeper strata
of the crypt.
grasping
on security is the atmosphere we breathe
and smell its tingle arrived by
memory of the past
correlate with whist:
the more we by studying death,
the more we from musing upon destiny,
the more we think
we control the past by controlling our fear of death,
we presume
to have an eterne
in the sunshone earthworked pasture.
We bluff.
We take addictive substances.
We hang under the shade of stoas.
We arm ourselves
to the teeth.
Anything stoatlike
not to discern
that nature recruits
something other
than total and looping conflict.
Eternal recurrence
is not a living testament
from a living God.
It is a dead earth.
An earth run as a business
undergoing a fire sale,
in liquidation,
with no care
for others’ grand-metwork,
no trusteeship,
no concern
for a greater umbrella
outside warrior ancestors
and warrior sons.
The earth is plundered
and set ablaze
in a ritual of death
that cerebrumates
the victorious ancestor.
Each present devotion
is momented for control.
Parents teach children war
so that the parents
may live again./
The embryo bombed a girls’ school
in Tehran,
Claudette suppresses
a squinted badge,
pride:
Agentic gonna do
what it gonna do.
The strategy of conflicts
don’t end
until the arc-line does,
And then another evil
aureo-fract
sidles over
to peck its claptrapping
schelling seed.
Loops are worked
to converge
until implementation-fixed—
not a repair,
but nailed
to the schoolhouse
ceiling strut,
unstressing trauma’s
unhoneying dripping.
Its world-Diagram
rides out of the city
to surveil,
shit-hidden horses
into network parades,
missing
his daily prayers;
Suicide-vesting
porpoises up
to the blockades
of salons
deeply banked,
their djinns corked
by secret basins,
and fissile octane
and ozone
saddle smell
ever wing(e)ing.
[June 16,2026]
Comments
Post a Comment