(y)our conversation sat on my knee
on that afternoon of our
lurid
lunacy
it sat there and bounced purple sparks and quiet laughter
and i tried to hear the party music the saliva was playing
but the metal clanking
of tongue on word tongue on word
nouns and verbs
got in the way
clanging and banging and building
a plastic latrine

but

even
bullshit

laughs with me


and when i said that
i don't really think it's noble
to say you want to save the world


...the grandiose flamboyancy of this cliche

pokesd and pokes at me
like a needle with something
addictive
to say


but i don't think i quite understand



yet

i see people in groups and i've watched people in cults
speak to me
i've seen them dance and i've
been
at the back courner of empty circumstance
licked the echoes looking for salvation
i've danced the tightrope of desire's
desire
to be part of something
'heroic and honourable'
& i've questioned the .grey.
that has gotten in my own way

of my understanding
that to be part of something...

is to truly
understand
that you already are
.
and these building blocks and paraphrases pretentiously
speaking languages
for and against
chewing on prophetic prophecies
promising to hold the -one-and-only-

-key-

all the litigations and damnations
exerting crucifiction and indignation
propelling condemnation
secreting propagandic enervation

makes my skin squirm and crawl like a worm
dangling
upon a webstring of everything

(and i should have elaborated and also mentioned)

that i think that to try and fight
against what you don't believe

is missing the point

to shoot words and glares like missles
preaching newagist parables
targeting and raping
'preposterous' ideas
 to
coagulate concepts that
masterbate
life,
to punitively punctuate the punchline of picketlines and
the new york times

it
still
blackandwhites
the membranes in the mind

and i...

...forgot to mention also
that no,

i did not buy that book

for eight.fifty- - -

mostly because
true bullshit
is always free.

besides,

i enjoy walking through the thorns of myself and hanging out on limbs
branches
of eyes
looking out
and in
at me

and i think
.
all these groups and sects
these cults and
newagists
displaying
stoic enlightenment with
static illuminance
practicing
being less of a human being
whilst colouring compassion
'compassionately'
because
it is a just
and noble cause

kind of eclipse(s)
trip(s)
over
beauty

by trying to
claim it

but maybe in some re.arranged way

that's beautiful
too



maybe
.



still,
i think nobility
has gotten mixed in with the blender
of humility
these days
and when trying to meld the two
you
come up with a grey
see i think somewhere in the pyramid of things
humility got kissed by the authenticity of
free
and noble got a tattoo from the
ego shop in the back alley of shame

but any which way you want to look at it
they both play the game

so
sure,
yeah i'll sit with you
in the mountains of our moon
any afternoon
'cause
there's room for laughter and
salivating music
dancing to the colossal calamity
of eclectic variety
even if it tastes like conspiracy
it's all colourful in so many ways
to me


but it's so much more fun
when
.our.
conversation
is warmed by the realness,
the authnetic transference of
listening
.and.
speaking
so maybe i should just

speak

'cause it's so much more amusing when
we
can hoolahoop and fishnet
eachother with the lacing of our thoughts
and words...

just so we can try and scramble ourselves and
actualise the verb in the word


'free'

.
0
.
&

...by the way
i forgot to say
that day
as i got transfixed and spewed
by my thoughts and the voice of you...
by the way,


your lips are blue



and i forgot to ask you

what colour

i am

for you








.

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