The Very First Day of Spring

The alarm rings
You spring right out of bed
With a spring in your step
Wander to the window
And peeking through venetians
Is the very first day of Spring.
There's something about the Sun
That suddenly makes the day
Pregnant with possibility
The process of photosynthesis
Makes my chrysalis a butterfly.
I flutter by, accesorize with
A Hawaiian shirt
And A Little Green Bag
And a step to match my beat.
Objective:
I'm looking for some happiness
When there is only loneliness
To find.
I leave my steed at home
And decide that today
London is my Oyster.
I like riding my bike
But sometimes, you can't beat
Riding shotgun on the DLR
And pretending to drive a driverless train.
Connection:
Shadwell stop and switch to Ginger Line.
The trains are upstairs
So I run to the lift
The doors close up
But I make short shrift
Slip inside and face my definitely unwitting, decidedly unwilling and absolutely inadvertent audience.
The ambience antithetical to events outside the elevator
No eye contact as if one could contract chlamydia from unprotected staring
An unsociable contract signed upon entry declaring
A resolution that the next six seconds that we shall hereby spend in this here box shall be as unnecessarily uncomfortable for you as it will be for me.
But not for me because for me
It´s the very first day of Spring
And I am a butterfly
And so My Thoughts collude
With a haste that excludes me from my own volition
The precursor to
Im gonna do something stupid
A foolhardy courage sugar coated with innocent effrontery
In which I utter the words to the packed lift
GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY.
My well-intentioned Thoughts doubtless thinking
Of the thawing of glaciers rendering
Pathetic fallacy a fallacy
Self'-awareness is still on my side
I realize I *r6bab3y came across sounding like a hospital radio DJ
They were looking at me like a hospital radio DJ
Or something worse
I took a risk
I was about as popular as a fart in a lift
I reckon if I'd have farted
I'd have got a better response
Oh well
Bothered
Lemme out of This elevator
I got Shit to do
Its the very first day of Spring.

honeydew

what would wallace say about that 
that honeydew
he would say say like that
like honeydew
ambiguous blue pumps dancing on the ceiling (or green)
kundalini ruff riding
but for breathing so silent
time migrating from moments
and cousins of cousins of moments
any moment 
now
like clockwork
to the power newton
dew done drop drop on designated spots
possing wet
learning is only really remembering stuff u will again again forget
romps on boulevards 
+ embassies prima facie sensations
quid pro quo but it shouldnt even count
together i climb inside one another
a historian in a delorean
make a pitstop
slicks on treacle streets
from the belly of the aphid
so sweet
to do wherever 
it must be
for rare air
now: breathe
 

bunny hop little boy

the day is desire for the taking
its all fair
& sometimes its not
so what?
i say so

bunny hop little boy
those bumps in the road
dont stop where u go
  no stop where u go?
dont stop         go

bunny hop little boy
in the end
and in the beginning
lingering curiosity (can kill u)
causes we scatter
hide + seek
repeat of particles + gravity
some will mingle
unfortunately this arrow is inexorable
try do tomorrow again today
& u see what i mean
but aint nobody got time for that
& u aint got time to hear me chat shit 

so 
bunny hop little boy
u can fuxking bunny hop!

good life

seems morbid maybe normal kind of way to think when home alone + noones around to regulate or channel hop u?re on ur tod jus u + god is all good but thats just it its all good what wud u give to live like this forever?

medication resistant

my dedication to taking chalk tablets 
has been lacking like the calcium 
in my bones + in my fingers 
its supposed to supplement 
them fingernails 
they don/t grow 
so imagine my surprise 
when i look up tonight + find 
a french tip scratching at the himmel 
can u C the D? 
the countdown to the comeback of the full moon 
† / ∆ / *

saturn1

i saw saturns rings
flat as a pancake
i would make
the holy ghost
on my shoulder
on the 45
on the 1 1 2 3
murky + believable

[y y y]

i saw saturns clouds
sit in groovy pockets
strike a match
send a rocket
chase it
  dock it
    got it
     get it dont stop
    get it
   get it? 

[wOwZa]

i saw saturn cheesy smiling
[a] spherical bounce
on the spot
all over the shop
incandescent cross section
butter molten 
man! a longedout oscillation
tripping off the power
landing nekkid on my ass

[uhHuH]

jokers on a second serve

how to eat cookies

an extraction technique
taken from ancestors
(a nibbler by design)
i mine diamonds
separate the wheat from the chaff
feast on that:
chocolate chip 
no cookie

lessons from john cage

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sat in a cage for 33 seconds < now i  need that ,

good sex guide

it has been a deuce of months 
replacing sensation with feeling
       one more time with healing 
                      with feeling 
         one more time with feeling
call it a classical case of sublimation
if u will hark ye
           mark me
                  here: what i feel?
utility                                does
manners                                does
civilization                           doesnot 
compell me 
         my intentions: strictly selfish
  (shall i come again): strictly selfish
         i said i says: strictly selfish

should caligula blush
that i should take my senses
                   my scruples 
            frolic in scrutiny
                      serious in the belly of my taboo

when my erection points to emeka
it can never tell a lie
my compass morals so far from secular
not even                  godless rewind:
not heathen;             godless remix::
not heathen either even godless
           come again: godless
           come again: im selfish not not facetious


i have better sex celibate 
than i ever had a slattern.
 

hahahumility

the builders were done
the cement   was wet
     before it   set
            i    went outside
and drew a presdigitator
 he/s juggling 
she/s immortal
my very own star on
my very own walk of fame
and i signed it off with no name
                         no need
                       (u/ll see)
 

fatimas hand

a box of wooden fish silver fish interrupted so let there be light a candle for penance or light your ass on fire both can be considered an option dig + dig + root + keep digging the colossus at the back of your nose repetitive i said repetitive endeavour keeps the motor running and the handbrakey is on making stoke for the fire that quells titular ambition i said and then i said practice makes perfect practice makes perfect practice makes practically permanent because before you always had to trats eht ot dniwer (a box of wooden fish) before you passed it on and that was equally more time consuming and yet sometimes ill be waiting in a queue at the back and theres toddler toddlers babies fathers toddlers all trying for the zip line & its always worth it in the end & in the meantime the clock is and never has stopped ticking and not definitely even in a metaphorical sensei metronome for your thoughts first every second second second every third fourth fifth second and then its about time for my coronation. an art dealer lives in berlin avoids kunsts a right regular blackbeard no map karteless digging and digging and rooting and digging a new route to china through the approximate centre of the universe to say SPRING BUDDHA! I CHALLENGE U TO SEVERAL GAMES OF BACKGAMMON i won the first two lost the next two hot rubber went the other way so i climbed the throne clambered up his legs up his chest on his shoulders across his face on his head so good a bad loser can celebrate so fatima led me fed me kusmi tea and we got highfived all night. back to the studio where i am sprinkling sea salt on butter spread on a rice cracker picking my nose.

 

isnt? everything? poetry?

isnt every))))thing poetry a rhetorical question? ?
                           ?
isnt that a rhetorical question? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  
                           ?
     that was the question if your minds all
   readymade
         then all question s are rhetorical
     what was the question ?

isnt everything poetry     ?

my mind has worked itself to              (((readymade
and i will stand in a gallery + pi
                                  s
                                   s 
                                     in the s    k
                                              in
    i am rhetorical

     what was the question ?

isnt everything poetry     ? 

well isnt it               ? 
          another question(?????????????
         rhetoric    all
         rhetoric of all  ilk
                from all folk
                    shop talk
                    team talk to jesus
                  can we talk about that
                     acceptance speech 
                                preacher sermon
                                      in german: 
      unterhaltung
conference calling birds   hummmmmmmmming  traffic
                                          electric t o o o t hbrushhh   
lovely
       growling
                sckkkkkreaming
                               baby
pissedoff
          neighbours
                     entertainment
hot
    chocolate
              heavy
                    metal

                 feel harmonic he said
                              she said
                             they said
                            the unsaid + the yet to be
                                  said

i said
isnt? everything? poetry? 
all these rhetorical questions)))))))
yes. it. is.

i dig on mondays

like someone splashed
some sun on ma face
& i didnt wake up
so same someone gave me the whole damn bucket
& i still wouldnt wake up
  i dont have to  wake up
but i was a w a k e
i just had my eyes closed
not even closed
i was looking through a letterbox
draught excluding whats blatant
blueprints draw conclusions
so i can see what you can see


*

note to elly from the selfproclaimed king:
are not all kings
        all queens
        all selfproclaimed
a gentlemens agreement
an unbelievable leap of faith
a tacit concord ratified by a tyrannical
EXACTLY

*

on monday morning glory i see
peacocks
plumes
bluebottles
wings
dustylustre
saturns 
rings
shuttles
waffles
maple
syrup
crossh######
sonorous corners
neoncorridoors to tall warm luminous crannies

i can see
the look on your face
thats what you see
 

the (open) secret life of a fly

may in april
is it is it is it it is isnt it it is
the fly from YESTERDAY
i thought u ephemeral
why if i could lead the life of a fly anytime
my lifes soul purpose
investigating things i like the look of
what is this?
was i here?
look at that!
then i die with a splat 
or a buzz 
or a blaze of blue electro shock glory always glory
except that adhesive death strip death
   a sticky end
u can start again

in ur own time

 

i like fit birds

that swallow
great tits
& ostriches

a theory of everything

1. a desire to get into God's mind

2. meanwhile 8 glasses of water a day

little boy lost + found in the woods

I

and i thought i was alone
ask arsene
    arsene knows
a simple game complicated made by the other team
how many lost kings must there be
to say i lost count when told to hold the page
on pidgin mathematics
now makes sense
im in music class
with a knife + a fork + a brand new guitar
theres six strings
i picked one over + over + over again

II

bbubbles balloons
boucing on branches
conversations with beetles:
-hello who r u & what have u come as u r
hidden in the black is a rainbow
u(i) know that)
this is supposed? to be frivolous
i blame art and representation
even with the lights out its less dangerous
and when bombs go off at the speed of photons
;things dont matter
from this perspective # count them # which green?
witch green was first found in the forest
(so similes: face this way!)
i was looking for rhizzmatic moulds
nope, a colony of mushrooms 
on closer inspection
favelas shanty houses on a cliff a castle
dead trees embossed with gorgeous moss
dramatic leaves shimmering jazz hands
theres me so dunkel so lets get lost

III

caught in the whereabouts of an acorn storm
cue luft schlanges! fickle signpost
submission to positions + scheduled 
futures unforeseen renovations
fixing what isnt broken is a chosen path also (dont u know)
to timetable in a relationship with not knowing
u never know supposed to know
a sodium street light bicycle crucixion
cross from a third staff
a rusty connection
cross section of the bark yanked with permission
i asked the forest and the forest said:
- i have no authority and so will judge u 
by what zum teufel u do
by b bb bb beating u express something unsayable
then say it!

III.5

the chief -  he is currently my sunday best
i play cracking shots cuts pulls attractive
cover drives with my first staff
second staff was goodlooking smooth & didnt want me
pricked me hand
with a forgotten staff i draw a line in the famous brandenburg sand
symbols
HUFF
cymbals
PUFF
i can still be bothered with symbolsymbolsymbolsymbiosisymbalcymbal
stopped making sense some time ago/elsewhere
its why im here
die gerade linie - we made that up - is gottlos
let me find my God here
ha! sEE (accidental capitalization)