i'd like my pancakes with a little

i'd like my pancakes with a little
bit of honeyed jam
or make that toast with
butter,
sunny-side up and turkey ham
appetite promiscuousity, gastronomic galore
to insist on a flavour a month
such a chore. such a whore.
to have your cake and eat it
don't bite off more than you can spit
masticate through every high and low
as you salivate on the go
just when you thought you have tasted
a little of everything
it becomes not a simple yes or no

my coveted part of day

just
beyond
the windowsill
sprawls my favourite part of

day

dripping streaks
of
tropical aurora
all neon like
virgin blushings for mid-
may

the
splendid
sun
is poured almost-
candidly into
my mouth
goodness awashed
diffusing volatile sky
vagrants
as they race haphazardly
across the basin
radiating all that this
soil is about

and in this moment's
viscosity
all the modern things have become
dwarfed into modest silhouettes
(as) they will now
in unison bow
to this -

my
coveted part
of

day

telephone

we are in search of the perfect dialtone, and
for the first receiving end
we are in chains with the speaking clones
yet still in awe of this networking trend
we are in duty of passing on every curious exaltation
and in need of determined coiled wires for reliable dis-connections
indeed, in payment of every efficient translator
we are let in on an intimate wavelength with the modern operator
which is in lieu of the second receiver's midnight smooches (in bouts
plagued by a gratitude for the overnight trails left without)
just as she lubricates before each looming call
i get whisked to the stars with each syllable's awkward fall
side-by-side, we are in tandem with these insidious, sparkling interfaces
only by virtue of historically-accurate paraphrases
since we are still under seige by a relentless interference
kept under the illusion of this electricity's omniscient indiscrimination
for now, keep still and just be @ home on your throne
in hold of your own loyal telephone
on it, come clean-be pristine-preen! (be
at your best while)
confronting this bestowed mess we are in

(with your scientific index finger, slowly)

(with your scientific index finger, slowly)

inspect these mirages around you

and from time to time
de-stabilize this flurry of images, as you
try to bring them into focus
but also take note to respect
their individual refractions

Wait, wait!
try creating a vertigo of faraway

((( cyclones ) ))

(yes, if you think about it,
the wings of butterflies actually
vibrate in
a circular fashion)

so set yourself
to it and disperse
the older air

and reveal
oh! this :) morse-coded oasis!

(with your investigative littlest finger, curiously)

twirl the hair around you
these overly-safe straight locks

are imprisoning

make them curl around their own edges,
~soften~
bend them at their knees, then
surreptitiously,
bring them closer to your nose as you
identify their every conditioner and odour

(with the tip of your nose, and toes, stretch)

into the ripe air
until you hear the cracking of your bones
for this will teach you
not to be too dependent
on that non-ergonomic armchair as you erect
a posture that condemns that claustrophobic
sinus to a sacred pastime

(get real! snap out of it!)

stretch out,
stretch it all out

the tips of your thorns

those over-ardent facial hairs

the layer of nothingness that seems to be
always ready to jump off the surface
(leap, I'd say!)

these tension-filled calf muscles

and boy, who can forget
those erotic synapses!

as you reach those climaxes
repeatedly! ~ (:)

(get real! and snap out of it!)

THIS IS THE MOMENT!

let's face it: nothing is real
except this bundle of stretches
but only when they
form these relentless contours on us
with these
criessmilesjumpsdropsand
breaths

slowly-but-surely
we are carefully made-up
as if every ‘me’ is a building
as with every 'you'
rooted still
yet
forever stretching, until there is nothing
more to touch

the 2 men in her life are boys in fact.

the 2 men in her life are boys in fact. in her life, 2 unwitting men: one borne to the left, the other relentlessly encircling, endearingly tipping the scales, in true moderator fashion. both worshipping. while carefully threading. as the withdrawn provider silently displaces his apologies into her already stale air, hoping for her to inhale. but she doesn't. she is still. and he constantly re-offends. the one who keeps taking is of pagan origin. he attempts twirls and spins until her flustered heart is mended, and then what? does he mean to tide her over? What? for his ritual of hypnotic dances only sends himself to sleep while she insists on being at her atmosphere. completely beyond reach. these boys will become men. one day. hopefully, before her ashes land. before her bones return to the dirt. before every sanguine sun sets. quietly, this is for her. as it has always been.

usother

us.other
nature: expedient
freak out: cave in
expanding appearances: defending fortresses
outrageous antics: quiet simple beats
layering cosmetics: dry, wrinkled skin
shout out, honk: meek curses, sink
mirrors reflect: nobody sees
sheeth of violence: a dove's intention
ornamental social bribes: quelling unsatisfied gripes
lady in chic: a wobbly tweek
hulk: child-bulk
social nets entangle: catch-hook-strangle
rage abound: for that soothing sound
begger. leper: lovlier under
usother

this tidy package) of me

this tidy package) of me
nor she; or he; but per-
haps we,
:but oh! so
tre-che-rous-ly.)
parades the th-ree
flee through with glee
in-to night's star-studded key
which promi-(ses) seductive-ly
-to (be
right at the mo-ment-ar-y plea
to-see what
lies be
-neath these pretti-ly -(ness) of un-sight-ly
puddles
or f-ree-ly floating harmless trees
that sway ever so slight-ly as the
winds of partial (h-e)
and (s-he)
make drafts at me!
me/me/me
- all prim and tid-y
as (entire-ly)
still as possums can po-ssib-ly be :that to
become be is as be is be-ing-ly be so
try: as the we (in me)
makes these three kinds of
rightful throw-a-ways :pressedly
for never (me-in-we) is the sum of she+he; at lea
st not;
not present-ly
((but we shall see((()
even-t/eventual-ly. possi /
oh possib-ly may(be.

the eternal recurrence

See this moment!" I continued. "From this gateway Moment a long eternal lane stretches backward: behind us lies an eternity.

Must not whatever can already have passed this way before? Must not whatever can happen, already have happened, been done, passed by before?

And if everything has already been done before, what do you think of this moment, dwarf? Must this gateway too not already - have been here?

And are not all things firmly knotted together in such a way that this moment draws after it all things to come? Therefore - itself as well?

For, whatever can run, even in this long lane outward - must run it once more!

- Nietzsche: Thus Spoke Zarathustra (part3; section2; On the Vision and the Riddle)

precise entrants. precise mouths.

we are all
slot /\ machines
with
precise. tailor-made ~:entrances:
every hand that
picks up a cOin you f(r)eel>
the clat-ter-ring-ing
of in
-ner clogs
Deny! (them) every third
penny. for
petty pound: at your pre-ferred pre-
tenses
ob-
truses.
.sigh.

(the longest and deepest sigh.)

swallow finger-filled
warm.th: reward them with
silly jester spitt and
spin-n-ing
mockery
as it were>>><:
.precise entrants.
for
.precise mouths.
that map our definit-
ions.
these act
ions.
and those familiar conse-
quences: if only,
it were that
simple, then
commit (no?)
to
that dial:
offortuneoffateofdeath-ly
pre-
monit-
ion.
s
-of volumous vomit that
we
get given
- the harmonious and
disconcert-
ing
trem-bble.

bread

When bread is baked some parts are split at the surface, and these parts which thus open, and have a certain fashion contrary to the purpose of the baker's art, are beautiful in a manner, and in a peculiar way excite a desire for eating.
-Marcus Aurelius

mise-en-abyme

cover me no. 3,
this is not a sweet dream
i need to take some risks
with adequate preventive measures
so turn off this program
and
just stay there
with a surgeon's preciseness
i will come get you
this layer of being)
is getting all the attention
and the next layer is all (too becoming
i will just assume it continues
on and on and on and on and on
awake and you shall find another
cover me no. 4,
i have a recurrent dream.

goodwill cast

(dada dada dada da)
this was their goodwill
cast upon us
(sss
platters s
s sss splat
ter splatsss
s)
.Now,
this is our goodwill
filled to their bbbrriiimmmm ooo
ooooooolucky
me!
for
it
shares
our
(verysameO! lucky
she!)
breaths
...hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhh
hhh

wedding bells

cold feet
amidst familial warmth
fidgitting
with you in mind
louder and louder
in my mouth asunder!
bouquets atop
a plunging drop
sweet sweet endearment
i stalk to cast a filament
of shadows so strong
the night is made long
this walk they take
is towards the sunset life
this talk i make
stays embedded like a hidden knife

stranglehold

helpmeforiamwithoutairspaceandapulserate
howlongcanyoutightenthisholdiwillnotresistiwillonlywait
timeismyallybutidontknowhowlongicanlastbeforemysupplyrunsout
stranglemestrangleme ran emestrang e hold ld ldh ol

silly fixed positions

you are my f a r a w a y
iamyournear
she
was my ___ _ (distant)
when-you-were-the-a-d-j-a-c-e-n-t

{i am [anchor] }

the rest shall move ''''*''''
''''*'''''

''''*''''' be there,

not
''''*''''' here

flow, ;;;not fly;;; dear, glide by,,,,,
be ^/over the hill

....yet in the same m....OO.n

this roomisRrOoUuNndD
be lostthen

found!!!

the-s-e ...f,l, u,i ...,d l oc omo ti ve> s

.o.f. .s.i.l.l..y.. .f.i.x.e.d. .p.o.s.i.t.i.o.n.s

koyaanisqatsi

the real intentions are always after the silence
that breath, that air, that introspection
that narrowness, that astute cleanliness, that never-blemished spot
the thing that holds you together are between the eyes
the chaos is always before the violence
of wet-lipped choices, of unforetold gazes, of man-eating dreams
for to be started would mean a towardsness
my trajectory was never taken

(to be out of sync
is to move at a pace away from the rhythmic bar
is to wish them ill
to be out of sync
should always be in fashion
~regrets are for those who do not have plans for otherwise~
to be out of sync
would somehow get you in the guts

and i will awake the fringe classes to bow in awe of it)

silly sanity

ever felt like you just ate but it all seems too empty?
ever felt like you have just lost nothing yet aplenty?
ever felt low - then high - in a split second?
ever tried to cry and then make it all seem as human as you can?

stories of lost friendships, and deeply-embedded pasts
never too much - always too little - and simply too fucking fast
never signs of disappearance
only truths,
years,
and your unchallenged contennances

like a time to heal, or a time to degenerate
liminality seems to be my only fate
whether nice, whether true, whether prim or proper
you'll never be sure till life's last supper

live on for now and make it all matter
throw the spit and glances into the batter
this is a silly poem i must say
but to hell with it, cos it makes my day

moving out (to be unglued)

i am moving
moving out.

to a place that is both hot and cold
where i can be given everything; and be everything

to go, to depart, to leave behind
can be a lifelong journey or a multiple orgasm gone amock

this is the place where i find the glue
and also every possible emotional landmine

this is a place with clearly drawn lines
yet life more than floats here (it's not just the salt)

come along, come along
pack light but feel heavy

you'll need wine, music and to show lots of teeth

i'll be waiting,
(never has leaving been filled with so many impressive instances)

i have moved on...
moved on into love.
(i am going, going, gone...)

the dots that follow

All these accidents that happen
follow the dot
coincidence makes sense
only with you
you don't have to speak - I feel
Emotional landscapes
they puzzle me
then the riddle gets solved
and you push me up to this:

State of emergency : how beautiful to be
state of emergency : is where I want to be

All that no-one sees
you seewhat's inside of me
every nerve that hurts you heal
deep inside of me
you don't have to speak - I feel

Emotional landscapes
they puzzle me
then the riddle gets solved
and you push me up to this:

State of emergency : how beautiful to be
state of emergency : is where I want to be

-Bjork, "Joga"

Incomplete

the heart races...
the feelings linger.
(vibrations, thud, boom, crash, waves, droplets,
sparkles, fireworks, adrenline, caffaine.)

i release a sigh
(can i take it back?)
then i mean to say something
that was already said before

i swallow
i feel ok.

better.


the fingers caress the lips (salty.)
transcendence through these doe-eyes
precious thoughts slip quietly under the skin, cuddling within.

diving in...

Displacement!

this ascent.
i peruse my laying self, (in wonder, i wonder what happens next)
am i...?
am i halfway to heaven from here?

on this bed, i am not resting,
i am burning! (oh these thoughts...!)
never has it been hotter

as i start to think, (but what is there to think?)
(oh... aplenty!) but never much to say.

Swirling randomly:

there is this life i am living,
then there are the necessary lies, there are the undercurrents,
there are the double-ups, the meetings at dark corners,
there are the busy people, all caught up, all oblivious,
there are the towering graces that hold on to everyone's prints.

then there are the kind sheltered stories and the all-so-real documentaries,
there are the sinful cities of beaten wives, kidnappings and traffickings,
of historic migrations and journeys that we all are.

there is politics, even real relationships; then there are the frauds, lovers and all...

then there is you.

none, not one, ever complete without the other
as i can never be

completeness is a myth

i am incomplete and will stay this way
i will live incomplete lives, feel incomplete feelings,
say incomplete lines, perform incompletely,
travel incompletely, write incomplete histories,

make incomplete love!
and
only then
will life make sense to me

don't feel sad... i am not.
it just is.

free-falling...

and then...
complete.