I might like I might like your neck of the woods I might I might like your neck of the woods you never know do you know you do you know it do you do or you do know you do it don’t you now don’t pretend you do I mean something when I don’t you do your neck of the woods they shall do.
My name is Grouckbungotortadochinnerachen Nivlertoloogooleront
and I rightly do know
exactly ripe
what it is that I want
I want you
Petriffyffontenerieriere my sweet
because I believe that it is your attributes
they are there
I am aware
yes
and they are neat
Petriffyffontenerieriere Shortstockingladderpulseclimatefish
this is my intention now
and this is my wish
a critical apprehension
an elementary dimension
an attention
a chanting
a rice dish.
Costageddon for Costa coffee
but we won't remember them
with a poppy
they dared to say
breast tissue to slay
and that it is cool
not to be gay
they spoke out of turn
for infamy to earn
costageddon for Costa Coffee
systematic abuse
they care not a toffee.
I want to follow a balanced diet
#
Good idea
#
That is why I am using
jammie dodgers
the strawberry will do me good
#
Yes it will
Are you going to get a sandwich
#
Yes
I shall have
a certain sandwich
at a certain time of a certain day
chicken tikka
#
Do you want some mushy peas
#
No
not today
#
How many Milky Bars
do you need now
#
Two
#
Are you having a ‘coke zero’?
#
Yes
#
The water
#
Yes
#
Do you want any custard creams
#
Actually yes
and what about you
Are you going to buy a lottery ticket
#
I must do
now that you have reminded me
but they don’t sell them here
I can get one anywhere
it is a unique diary in the history of man
a spin of the wheel
a trick of the plan
All the usual
#
All the usual
#
All the usual
we don’t say.
There is awake
awake
there is asleep
asleep
awake and asleep
with awake
with awake
you are awake
you are awake
in the here
and in the now
presently
you are awake
and aware of the
here and the now
for the time being
while
with asleep
with asleep
you are asleep
sleeping
you are asleep
in the land of the nod
and somnolent
flirting deliciously
and lasciviously
with nonentity
and so to sleep
sleep and awake
sleep and awake.
Did Diggy did
do this that he that
did he do this
did he that
Diggy did this that
did he do he
Diggy do he
he did Diggy
that did
this did
he did
did he
Diggy do that
do did Diggy this
did he
did Diggy did
that do did
he did
he did do this that
Diggy do did that
Diggy did.
I am just now getting a sense of something
I mean why would they be hotter (women in the 1980's)?
The reason which it is, is that now, in our time, we do not really have women as such.
The image or archetype of women as the potential mother and as Goddess of Love, is not possible in our age. The state and the market and the device and the ideas of others, have supplanted, superseded and surpassed women as they were, as potential authentic creators.
This is a failure that we must lay at the doorstep of these delinquent and these negligent individual human catastrophes that we persist in calling 'women'.
Women are now infinitely mutable. There is no core, no functional archetype, no centre, no origin - for the fatally disconnected woman of our time. Today she is a dream of a dream of a dream. She has rights (to consume the lies of others), and she is oppressed (by the concept of freedom). These rights and this oppression amount to the theft of her birthright. She has lost control of her cunt.
There are knives
there are saucepans
and
there are plates
knives
saucepans
and
plates
with knives
with knives
you use them for cutting things
you hold them
knives
in your hand
with saucepans
you use them for cooking things
for cooking things
you use your pots and pans
with plates
with plates
you eat off them plates
a white enamel shallow bowl if you will
there are knives
there are saucepans
and
there are plates
knives
saucepans
and
plates.
The tree trunk is grey
much lighter than the grass
behind it and around it
a bolt of light
there
the grass is heavy and uniform and thick
blue and smoothly lilting immobile
waxy
the leaves are a black patch
a swatch of violent insolent final tone
there
the sky now brushed glass and copper verdigris
the crow is hiding in plain sight
abstracted indifferent mute
just there
the violet path rips its form
ever proudly
and into here.
Exile me
exile me internally
to your totalitarian sex gulag
imprison me
a long march
I shall sell my identity
confine me there
at the icy limity
boiling so perpetually
purge me
revolutionary
interrogate to torture me
to earn my confession
my earnest glory
exile me
to the home of your pity.