An essay on the possibility of freedom
What if there is not one god but many
What if this of that or any
What if there is not one god but many?
What made this world
Inshallah, Amen
The breath, the killing
Is this ours to abide
And wherefor do we abide
In law and love
The terminals and clocks
What is it that we should
Should not
Do we have the knowledge
Of waterdrops, candlesticks and ceiling wax, cabbages
The rhythms of caesium, circadian
Like algal blooms this day
Spawning cyanide in estuaries
The stalacmites and runnels
Baked roads, set smoker's veins
Each respiration, expansion
Declension, they will let
Lease this suffering
To our drones, estuarine hives
That itch.
If there are any
The most err
And if with law we concur
Then how are these bonds wings
How are these bonds
I heard that with word and action
He converted, preached, conversed.
My converse are now too small
At my age.
Jesus if I have understood
Forbade usury, turned the tables
Over in the temple
Beat the money lenders
Sent them running with a whip.
Jesus if I have understood
Forbade usury, turned the tables
Over in the temple
Beat the money lenders
Sent them running with a whip.
I have not understoof Jesus
I am not alone
My father, who art in Brixton
Explains the principle function
Of the Temple of the Mount
Was foreign exchange
The issuance of coinage of Judea
For foreign silver
Some understandings are lost
Sedimented in layers of interpretation
And history. So you know
We need Foucault, for clarity.
There is an inverse to each integer
But irrationals
They take the place of patterns
Produce powers
Why take a negative?
The square root?
That would be i
The budlea will break
The city its sites and monuments
If moments
We depart from here
If we are not here to point
Its seed will set lodged
In the brick, the viaduct
Roots will slowly
Free the brown earth beneath
In a bloom of loo brush flowers.
Siddartha said we sufer my brother
If you're lucky you get one father, one mother
Expect shit, age with grace
These days will make you tougher, leather face
What's the power of God
If you have no faith
What's the meaning of skin colour
If there's just one race
If you need meaning then make it
Flow concentrated the rest is just fake shit.
Siddartha said we suffer my brother
These days will make you tougher like leather
Whatever, cut slack for you backside, then jack it
Its a hard road so hack it
I was composed in death throws, consult Atlas
About bearing heavy loads, the road goads my mind
Like sex, expectations, frustrations, then vex
I guess its chemistry, telemetry the next section uncertain
Just enjoy the journey together, stay calm, keep working.
In ugliness we know beauty
Water has power
It does not challenge
It nourishes, drowns, erodes
Passes formless without confrontation
Such is the
Budlea needed pruning for Maureen
I hadn't seen her in several summers
So balanced balletic on the back
This morning I saw Maureen as I hoped
I wish to bring water, a long river
A dream of coffer dams made from concrete
Made concrete with wood, with work
It all starts in confusion
And a hope carp will thrive
I wondered if she's alive
Very much is too and said the gardener
Had not come since last year
A year after her husband died
And the budlea had taken all the sunlight
She knew Diogenes
Of course I took up the old saw
Thinking of my mother near Agen
I have reached her on email
The flights are closed, currently, currency
We need retaining walls
I and her. The Nation. Maureen
Wants the Budlea pruning
I joyful obliged, for joy is a gift
Hiding in a cardboard barrel
Where the ivy had overgrown
And some unknown relative of grape
A foreign vine in cohabitation
In competition, compilation
In a flourishing, had wrapped
The cardboard box in camouflage
In a reclamation. A reuse by flowers
Of these Steel threaded bars
I wondered, I bought the bars
To build a bath,
I thought to build a bath from oak
But I am no carpenter
Just a curious bloke.
The first Airbnb
When guests stayed in their space
Before all the mirrors
He was a carpenter
Said oak warps in water
But all our ships, Empire
Was oak forests lost to lust
Of conquest, restless
But I am no shipwright
And the steel bars I bought to make a bath
Will make a pond
A concrete dream for carp
Their spirit still worshipped
In a polite foreign land
Splintered from a suckling
Continent like our own.
Liberte, Egalite, Fraternity
That all humanity is created equal
Attached and dependent
We hold these truths to be self evident
Happiness may be evasive
Joy may be self-created
In others we realise ourselves
Without regard to colour or creed
I never ever had a pocket watch that worked.
I knew a rotten old fence down Dover
When Dalston was East
And police sold cocaine over and over again
To yardies on Shacklewell lane
Then raided their yard
Took that one brick
And sold it back. 30 times, different gangs
When Mr. Tesco was on Ridley Rd.
Before my time, if I'm honest
The fence never sold nothing
Just a house full of car stereos
Swapped for soft black with hardening teenagers
My mate's grandma said
Mr. Tesco sold poor fruit and veg
They closed Stoke Newington Police station
Sacked all 95 staff, police, when
They couldn't cover it up no more.
She dyed her hair and used to do
After school clubs for the ethnic kids
When Dalston was white racist
She would say, I don't want your pills
I'll have whiskey, what's it gonna do, kill me
Im 96
She died a day late
After the family had come from Canada
To see her off, and she was past care
But I am no carpenter, nor Noah
This pond bigger than a bath
Is not an ark
It is fixed here
In my back garden
Mount Ararat would be nowhere
To run to now
In my back garden on Blooms day
But I am
I am no carpenter
And these steel bars will not
Make a bath, something bigger
A pond, but I am not Ulysses
This is not Dublin
This city of culture and learning
Is only in passing
A city of peace.
Supply and demand stumbled
Like a drunk couple full of recriminations
Pushing the tables over
Sometimes they touched the rhythm
With bodies that knew each others baggage
Sometimes their touch slipped
The grip would go
And glasses would ring
The patrons stretching their faces
Pints snatched by anticipating hands
Chairs pitched like
Supply and demand
Always got like this in the pub
Then Alice would shout, you're barred
And they compressed
Cheek to cheek
Not an atom of air
Between their beating hearts
Noah may have been a myth
Before the flood
The tablets of Nineveh
When ships sailed to far Offir
For Orinoco
When copper was shipped from
Hudson Bay to the Black Sea
Before Thera. Before we had lost
Linear B. The Qipu. The Wombles
Papyrus and the Tora Reed
When questions were of a different kind.
What is
The effect of the Minoan invention
If I flip a coin
And stop time
Have I always won
Or always lost
Have I won and lost at once
Is this God's mirth with our Souls
If I flip a coin
And make no choice
Where is the gamble?
Is there joy
In watching sunlight
On a spinning coin
If I flip a coin
And make no choice
Where is the gamble?
Is their joy
In watching sunlight
On a spinning coin
These great mountains, Monte Carlo, Montpellerin, Arrarat, Wu Dan
If I hold a coin
And do not toss it
Is it that I never test my luck
Or that I test
My judgement
Rawls called gambling
irrational
Call Rawls a slaver
With the yolk of charity.
It is not disparity, or victimhood, it is our capability that defines
Shall and should
Rawls called gambling irrational
Everything is relative
Everyone too. I mean, what's hope?
Behind a veil of ignorance isn't all hope
A gamble?
Isn't dopamine the intrinsic reward
Isn't information feedback the cheapest source
Of dopamine, of supplied addiction
Depends how saucy your source is of course
How weak your target
How straight backed you posture is in prayer
The chicken and the egg, precusors, Tyrosine
Isn't true inequality created by relative access to dopamine?
I mean, is this just
Neitzche said the pale Jew's
Eye has a great despising
Longs for punishment to improve, to live
Said charity caused resentment
That someone had the wealth to lose, to give
Neitzche was a professor at 16
And raped his student
Was from a family of vicars
And declared God dead
Neitzche perfectly expressed
Rejection, philosophically
So many arguments in his head
"We can disregard everything Neitzche and Kierkagard said because they never had sex past 40"
The Budlea attracts butterflies
As does the cabbages
And does attracting butterflies
Put off hurricanes here?
It has been some time since
i raised but butterflies within
Or shook dice
Risked to loose or win.
Rawls must have been addicted to something
But not Feynman, or life
If Spinoza was right
Or there are many perfect Gods
What is there to do
But play dice?
Do butterflies play dice?
Which species does not
Even the Pine plays dice
Their genetic plasticity
Was explained to me by a Canadian
Who stayed on Airbnb
Brassica, Shintashta. This mustard
Herb, ape bourne across the Steppe
Broccoli. I blaze Broccolli
Get Cauliflower ears. Swollen
Hard flowers
When Dalston was East
Kale was an Irish Name
Not a dish or a feast
Best served steamed
Bok Choi, Kohlhabi, Red
These are but one wild mustard
One dispersed family cultivated
In every corner of a native field.
I have reinvented the wheel
How beautiful
There are no cart horses
On a carousel
Merry go round. Boing-boing
And then came chariots
Iron chariots in the face
Of despairing gods
And cabbages and fire myths
Upon the caravan trains of camels
Rawls called gambling irrational
Everything is relative
Everyone too. I mean, what's hope?
Behind a veil of ignorance isn't all hope
A gamble?
Isn't dopamine the intrinsic reward
Information feedback the cheapest source
Of addiction
Depends how saucy your source is of course
How weak your target.
How straight backed your posture is in prayer.
Isn't true inequality relative access to dopamine.
I mean, is this just,
Post materialist?
Do you think Descartes
Could see his reflection
On the inside of the boiler
Or was it all dark in that space of introspection?
I remember Maggie
Made a catwalk out of the doorway
Spotlight on the sun
Sunburst of lips and hair
And legs made to strut
Not run
She stayed with Taikan
Descended from forty generations of Noh singing Samurai
And the Englishman who created York Notes
Explaining symbolism in poetry for you and me
The Veil of ignorance
I walked to the veil of health
With Jim from compliance
I had not seen for sometime, an era
And Inthasar he told me had come back
A week late from Kuwait
Just in time for lockdown to catch her
What a curious piece of grace
It must be Baracka but I am ignorant of this
Was it he Obi Wun? Was it 2003?
Was it the 6th century AD
The advent of Islam, the fall of Rome?
The foundation of the Shaolin
Was it something I ate
Was it Cromwell, crumble
Bramley apples where my
Tummy rumbles
Was it known to Brahma
Long before this sky drama.
Sometimes I look back
Pliny. Pining. Pineal plasticity
Erodes with Flouride
Historicity erodes without record
Descartes thought the Pineal gland the home of soul
Some think it the source DMT, the spirit molecule.
I read it online. So it must be true.
Descartes meditated in a boiler
I have no idea about Euler
To my mind body dichotomy
Is not a property
Of my brain
Descartes was a mercenary
When they invented clocks
Clocks from circular metal cogs
When some Saxons found Sugar
More attractive than swords
Set down ancestral Ploughshares
Sure mineral heritage could be sold for sweets
Lombardy and Zurich
Lucerne feeds both soil and sows.
And when the rain comes
I hope we have room for carp
Children have a concrete
Carousel that draws down the coarse gutturals
Washes the chaotic sound smooth
Smooth as rested pebbles in a river.
Around this time
The clocks are out of sync
I have different pips
Repeated peptide release
Delays in bandwidth
And what is the fate
Of this
Caesium Circadian
Gravitas. Gravy
These bindings. Sticky. And with it
If a lie is large enough
It will bend space time
By force of mass.
If mass is the matter
And E=MC2
Then resonant frequency
Co-ordinated like consciousness
Can bend space time. GABA sync. Hard House, Techno
Who meditated in boiler.
The pope smokes dope
No doubt. T-Shirts
Down Camden shout about it
Walk about the old locks
Where Chris and Alice sold spiced cider
Apple juice and Jack
Way, way back. From a shack with wood slats
Small counter that trapped
The phone booth sized box shut
Just big enough to imprison a person
When there was no mention of minimum wage.
Rope a dope
I mean, helps you balance and move, in the mesolimbic pathway
A dupe. All the best people have a crutch.
I mean, Dopamine's a motivator, in the ventro-tegmental
Magically mimics, creates, get up and a go, a dose of heroine
Cocaine or alcohol. All exciten then dampen
Dopamine receptors. Accept that
It's chemical. Addiction is a motivational tool.
Sarah, sarah was not a receptionist
Sarah was a nun now
Sat at prayer, thumb knuckles in her solar plexus
We commune over causes
On Sunday
Sarah atoning
In the evening
That was the drill
Dug and baked
At the violet hour
Before sleep
Toes in, Cold water
Got cold feet
But trust
The Ox will cross the river
But where? Is there a bridge some distance from Balliol
Yellowsandstone walls to save students
When their historic fear of peasants looms.
Hug a hoody he said, oh and, in it together
And when the Ox crosses the river
Are the Ox's toes in?
Does a crossing Ox love and trust
Or does it just say moo?
Straight back
Knowledge of self
Epicurius had a skin disease
And constant pain
Was not known to complain
Eased by his garden and conversation with friends.
What was the end of Piraeus?
Of psychopathic corporations
Self owning Leviathan bit
And bridled. A myth of private innovation
Asset burlesque, he's behind you
And now
Mao's ghost marches over Lepanto
We have sat fixed to screens
Stuck like organic servers
The screen savers in SETI or the search for carcinocidal molecules
Folds in the proteome. What process could we create?
Endorsing heroes, heroines
This piece could be crisper
Epicurius had a skin disease
Constant pain
Not known to complain
At ease in his garden, with friends.
The end of Piraeus?
Capitalism sleeping
A neo-liberal liberation
Of psychopathic corporations
Self owning Leviathans enslaved by blind men
Bit and spat a loquacious myth of private innovation
Begging troughs betrayed that revolution
Asset burlesque
And now
Mao's ghost marches over Lepanto
Begging placards betray this
We have sat fixed to screens
Stuck like organic servers
Screen savers in SETI
Endorsing heroes, heroines
This could be crisper
In the cup of water in the sink
The lettuce is crisp
Not like in the refrigerator
The fridge. The larder
This is no a slow death
But a growing of roots
A life from where death
Was supposed
All the lettuce is crisper now.
In the cup of water in the sink
The lettuce is crisp
Not like in the refrigerator
The fridge. The larder
This is no a slow death
But a growing of roots
A life from where death
Is supposed
All the lettuce is crisper now.
Alexander the Great
Dispossessed Diogenes in an instant
And when he left
The blue Agean reflected
Civilisation could begin again.
The problem is distributive
Disrupt retributive justice
Disrupt old rock stadiums
Status Quo, Queen, The Eagles
Bring back the Beatles
Bring back flat batteries
Bring back horseshoes
Bring back equity
We have the tools to solve poverty
The problem is distributive.
The Pyramids, The Hanging Gardens
Of Babylon, the Mausoleum
The Cocoa-Cola logistics network
Last spring
And other wonders of the world.
Supply was a rock
Was sandstone, fissure rotten
Supply was a cliff tall edifice
An engineering institution of ingenious artifice
The art of this half of the dance
Constancy, dependence
And yet we forget the stacked shelves
The wharehouses out back
The distributions
The contributions just sitting still makes
All of those boxes just waiting
Sitting. It wasn't supply
Who was the real rock
In any of this
But demand was demand
Rarely attended to the details.
This society
Built on cowardice, mendacity
Telemetry
They will not stab ya
But microwaves, built up phages, deoxygenation, all slowly give you cancer
An agenda
Death out of sight and mind like Africa
Will we be thought saints hereafter?
Tell me why?
You abjure Arendt
All of you participants
A power is not a right
Enforce false dreams through sleepless nights
In the morning wake to radio
Reports now fraudulent and hollow
What will tomorrow bring?
Another pestilence or evil thing
And they say "why aren't you grateful
For your poision, your hateful exploitative employ
little boy you, our toy"
Our leader's bare faced treason
And what's the reason for the lies?
Why can't we connect with art or sport or family
Before they've done their devilry
A good the powerful just can't concieve
The Justice, just letting people be.
Today the football returned
I found myself lost on known
Streets I walked since teenage years
But scents
Were different.
If I had listened to my mother
I would know the names
Of more than Roses and Hydrangia
More than Daises and Buttercup
More than Crocus and Lavender
Sarcococca, Chrysanthemum
Like stacked stalls down Chapel
The flowers hawk this new order
The streets silent but for song
Of birds I do not know
Birds that I would know
If I had listened to my mother
WB Yeats was closed
On Fonthill road
The windows boarded
And I walked past
Plague houses of this pandemic
Schrodinger's questions
Behind each door
Left some garden cherries
On an old friend's doorstep
Like an offering to God
When the football returned
I was on Fonthill Road
Looking at my phone
The Monsoon came electric
After the thick dark boom
The battering rain
Louder than the stadium
They talk black lives
In sport
The stadiums are empty
The streets full of birdsong
If I had listened to my mother
I would know if Budlea
Was from Java
That the Asian citrus psylid
Is not the only
Devastating pest
I would be in an ash
Grey suit
And you would not be reading
This art
You would think
It's odds on I was out of my tree
But today
I'm in it. The verdant thrust that splays
Green plates. Give a fig
I have figs to give, in August
I tried to kill a fig
When a bairn beneath heaven
Trees of heaven
They grow from suckers, dendritic roots
Springing through dry soil
The brown surface erupts, broken by shoots
We ring barked these, trees of heaven
They would grey, hollow as the girdle dried the xylem, pith
Leaving them like match sticks
I would dig and cut and shred
The fig but ever it bred back from rhizomes
My mother pulled down the last
Tree of heaven this week.
The tenants have planted a black fig
At the back of my garden in Tottenham
Because Gina does not care for Green Figs
What was the end of Piraeus?
Communist investment
Purchasing all the ports
Like pepper
Sri Lanka and Panama
Investment that built new land in the blue
Laid iron roads
Knew the proper use
Of gunpowder.
If the butterfly is delicate
Curves its wing tip like a spoiler
Catches its rhyme
To synchronise, syncopate
Can it make the weather?
Or sinking to sycophancy
Pile cumuli like covered feathers
Drop all the pent pall
Like the mirror of a giant jellyfish over the sea?
Purple patterns it happens
Phone gazing, when the lights
The lights
Going like dips, the last breath
The great bear
And what is it that we own
That we are
Some signal, some noise
Some soup, a sweet brief flash
In the life of stardust.
What is it intellectual, effette
Effiminate
What was that, that
Why you walk like that, that
Gaps in the synapse perhaps
The chapstick for fat spliffs
Split lips, split hairs
Split pots, I forgot, forgot
What was the gem I dropped.
Flash in a pan
In a scan, scammed
Bandanna made of magnets
Bannana. Boats and bands
It's amazing,blaze away crazy and shit slips
Like standards
Flash in a scan
I cannot explain
But will imprint like stencil
Over and over again
Every game claim
Avenue of fame
The road you came from forgotten
Rode the sea horse rotten
Did you get paid?
Or did they steal and patent
Every idea in a dawn raid?
Call the dogs
Ravenous hounds pack hungry
Now is time for dogs
barking dogs
That rise to greet with riotous affection
To lick faces in welcome.
I went down Wickes
Wandering. Wondering
What could be concrete
What could complete
Designs esoteric in mind
I find a bag of sand
Piled on the ground
Priced for £2 for building
£2.40 for River Sand
The sediment of estuaries
What's the cost
In terms of calories
In terms of coast
Of moving one bag of sand
From the Mekong to Tottenham
The price: £2.40
A market, willfully ignorant
Indigenous echos
This system's abstract reflections
Extractive concrete exploitations
The muddy water
The muddy pool, confusion
What becomes clear?
The external , the missed
The cost of what's lost
Is not priced
Some device to weight the priceless
In heating 1 cubic centimetre of water one degree
The sun will bring calories
And as the wind strikes the rock
The raindrop catches grit
We will get more grains
More grains picked over time from the land
Mispriced £2.40 for a bag of sand.
Can I keep
Amid the wood
That was once trees
All will rust, like focus
It must rust
All oxidises eventually
It's how they make rock dust
Dropping through the hour glass
Little waves
On little waves
Making bigger waves,amazing
Money talks, Goodbye
Good riddance
Never kept good time in a dance
Jumping off hiding
Stuck in the bottom of a jar
Pocket fluff
See you soon it would say
Gone for ages
But then I got a smartphone app
Gone, what was that
Dear, dear, dear
In one ear and out the other.
I don't know where the roads go
The old roads I used to know
To run in, roam
To ruin rome, takes a day
What did destroy
This Troy
Was it a culture, cultivation
That sprouted raspberrys in an old road I painted
Unacquainted. The next street adjacent
From the one I've always taken
The berries, succulent, sweet
Anti-oxidant fresh, like Wittgenstein
Was getting respected, proper
Sense observed, sentences connected
Mimetics. Mimised and recapped
This changing North
Its fronds and cul d'sacs
Once did well, the grand halls
Grid cells remapped like epitaxis
Of our semantics. Memories formed in the Royal Northern Athletic.
That youth electric, some antics,
These antiquated homes
Have magnetic doorbells now
Even my sisters house
Has many doorbells
Should I tidy my desk
These are tasks
And summer, as is myself
Competeing for attention
So I boil stock
Proper concentration is like gate, lock
I have let piebald leaves
Blow billious drifts, bountiful
Around the long raw wood desk
Buddhism this plank
Retorts suffering, impermanence, Samsara
That all this is illusion, recommends order
The Christain path uses sugar, wine and scourers
I can afford order at this time
Traintracks and straight backs
Clarity of mind
Yet clutter is creative. Each distraction suggestive
Creativity a byproduct of time wasted
Generative, though generally
I have to watch what's under my feet
Expletives precede blue lights. Is that an ambulance again?
Will flash. Blue. Will Flash
Not some spark of passion
Will fire, that coal hot desire
The external environment
Internalised in different guises
These are our causes, controlled or we are canvas
This is the slap dash
Deconstruction of Laplace
Today the answer is not yes
I should not tidy my desk.
If I know
What I have to do
Where I have to go
Then I simply follow
The roads
If the old roads are lost
And I need new paths
Must remake maps
Then this dance is with
Marked streets, wind blown
Is with the hair of trees
What creativity is known
In a train track.
I can see a butterfly it seems
Cabbage white, astonished
My window needs Windowlene
More than my desk needs
They didn't like Eastern Europeans
They paid tax
Reordered the simplicty
Of melanin gradation, traditional racism
We have to think about racism
The Canada goose, the Horse
The Ptarmigan
The roads I used to know
Are crystal clear
Like the air before
The Rhodes they taught me of
Forgotten. A Colussus
The Minoan mind
Linear B
Lost. All unaware what they left us
Little metal coins
The Rhodes they taught me of
A hero and a king, diamond crowned
Gold rimmed, gave smutty gifts
Besmirched, but dirtier like roots
If you catch my drift
Genocide and piracy
The makings of Queen V.
The Rhodes they taught me of
Eroded, blood caked contours fractured
Remade, papier mache maps
They name some
A history, one here
One there, call it
Maangamizi now that
The speakeasy is aware
The Rhodes that is relevant
Is still a pirate
The Rhodes of pins, maps
Current from light
That never set, is setting
Straight south, evening time
Occipital, at the back of my mind
The Rhodesia I squint at, under map colours
From between lids so unlikely
I relax, pin in the map of a place that I've been
Cape Town. Rhodopsin
Did Descartes squint at a crack of light that came in the door of his boiler.
Swear, ask why the door didn't fit, why the boiler wasn't lit.
If the path is non-linear
Then power laws
Are part
But these parts predictable
Put together become
A random unknown
Orders of magnitude
Polarity
Disorders of magnetism
A new self erupts unbidden
But, two is company
Three is complexity
Listen to your gut, your heart
There are two ways
To the tube
A few more than two
If you get confused
Wash off on a detour
Count each stochastic step
In detail
But if happy with abstraction
Think about time
The decision is really easy, relatively
Do you walk through the park
Or down the main road?
If I count each stochastic step
Each fractal fluctuation of nitrogen
That wafts each passed person,
Pavement crack, gravel particle in stone
Then there are infinite ways
To the tube
But in binary
I reduce it to two
If I always walk the same path
Or is routine a chain?
Habit is efficient takes little effort, blood glucose,
In the face of change, it is insufficient?
Is a moment on repeat a mode of stasis?
Is sufficient freedom an updated status?
Is freedom a dance, a dynamic joy?
If I was a photon
The gap of the ticket gate waiting
I would take both paths at once
Appearing at the apperture
The scholastics, Benedictines
Benedictions, meditations
Fransciscans
So immensely valuable
All on a fragile planet
In need of love
Is habit the departure gate for freedom
Like an aeroplane needs fuel
Like an aeroplane is maintained through flight
And will rust just sitting on the tarmac
Is sitting on the tarmac, just
Necessary for freedom
Is it sufficient in a state of dynamism
Gandhian, these proclivities
And if we are to be efficient
Then some clocks are necessary
I sat and watched a clock at the Tate
Hollywood's clocks
Transforming from heirlooms and pocket watch
Identities
To regimentation for a post-war military.
There are few shots of clocks
After 3am
If I am in the habit
Of staying up past 3am
Am I free? Or is this inefficiency
That will cause me to miss my plane
Is it that if I think
Of where my plane will land
In some other time zone
I am routinely up past 3.
If routine is a dirty word
A mode of machines, then am I free?
Can I blend this freedom
With a cyclical efficiency.
If I had a code would it hold me?
If I did not
Would I unmoored, drift overboard
Scant sense of intention?
If inattention gets me
Is detention in a bare cell
The best path to wellness
Or Buddhism, Benedictines
Trapist Fransciscans
The reinstitution of a moral house
Is there freedom in boundaries
Does an oath free me
As it freed Gandhi?
Gandhi did not eat
And thereby found morality
Is there a higher human
Will. Testament
To his strength of purpose
His vision?
I learnt things in universtiy
But the most memorable
The lectures I recall most clearly
Are those I didn't understand
The burnt brand of unsated curiosity
Eye glass on past confusion
Burnt brand like begging
Socrates to say something
State, an opinion.
When Chaos was cool
Gleick most talked
Some asked qustions
The richest man I know
Asked great questions.
I learnt things in universtiy
But the most memorable
The lectures I most recall clearly
Are those i didn't understand
The burnt brand of unsated curiosity
Eye glass on past confusion
Burnt brand like begging
Plato to say something
State, an opinion.
When Chaos was cool
Gleick on the lips of every passing butterfly.
Most talked, some asked questions
The richest man I know
Asked great questions.
When the Berlin Wall fell,
It bit
They outsourced IT
The cleaning
The accountancy
The imperialism
Then they outsourced the science
And you can't manage
What you don't understand in house.
When the Berlin Wall fell,
It bit
They outsourced IT
The cleaning
The accountancy
The imperialism
Then they outsourced the science
And you can't manage
What you don't understand in house.
One lecture
The enthusiasm of a Belfast Boy
Who sat in parked cars in balaclavas
For laugh, he said, come to this
Masters maths and physics
I did not want for time or piss
I had never been to the science block
I never went again
I just kept the friends and memories
A blue blob
With finger fissures
That started slowly, then sped
The collapse reminded me
Of the USSR
I didn't know how lucky
We were
The slides flicked
And the lecturer
Showed a lifeboat
If I sit atop a wave
A U
Shape, life boat
Concave, Convex
Expect a nexus
So complex that
Nothing can come between us
Its like nitrous, no
Nitrogen, no
Nitroglycerin
Neutrinos
Clocks in satellites
Scan your fireworks
Fire works
Caught awkward in the onslaught
Overwrought like court appearance
And gold earings
That fall apart the second
A lover talks.
I wrote this for word salad
Forever the heresies
Whatever America did to me
I feel the Chinese freed
So best believe we plant trees
Or they be cooking the equator
And all our pickneys
This is clock salad scan your
Fireworks, frightening writing
Sparks lightening, whats the odds
Plato was killed
By an eagle droppping a tortoise
On his cranium
I guess there must have been
A purpose or just
More eagles and tortoises
Back then.
I guess when the planet was cooler
There was more land mass
-77 metres of sea in Siberia walk the
Bering Straight walk
The Indonesian achipeligo
There must have been something producing
Oxygen
A few milenia after Sapiens began
Ice age like the Carbon Dioxide
Died off
Where are the pastures of the horse
Feral Animals
Without web connections
When the light passes through
The earth. This work, when its worth more
To the data for satellites to scan France
This is the Voice of God talking
Odd way I'm working
If I sit atop a wave
A U
Shape, life boat
Concave, Convex
What's next is a nexus
So complex that
Its impossible to predict
The interactions of ionic electrics
Fluid dynamics, passengers panic
Ridged hull, raindrops and gusts
Crunch it in a Cray, every which way
It might flip, or it might not
There's no way to plan it
Crunch it in the minds of whole planet
If I tip it slightly
Sit it on the side of the wave
Then probabilistically I can predict
Whether we'll all drown or be saved.
But when its right at the top
Touched by raindrops
It might topple, or it might not
The mathematics says
Those are the two answers we've got.
A cast N dice with X faces
What's the possibility
Possibly to compute
Comprehending how to be
In this new territory. Scout route
To set us free on the many
Faces of the dice
What's the probability
That we, 15,000 spinning
All vibsing in one time
Like the mathematics is
9 x - 9 mm
Speechless with the creatures
But the pigeons in the park
Got a whole new bark
If you plant a tree
On the spot relieve the fever
I belive we can't be free
Unless we achieve this together
So what's the possibility they can scan
If its he I She She We I I We
A cast N dice with X faces
Expect a nexus so complex
That it can bend space and time
I'm like two short Planks
But thanks
The mathematics is fine
A cast N dice with X faces
What's the possibility
Possibly to compute
Comprehending how to be
In new territory. Scout route
To set us free on the many
Faces on the dice
Whats the probability
That we the 15,000 spinning
All vibsing in one time
Like the mathematics is
9 x - 9 mm
Speechless with the creatures
But the pigeons in the park
Got a whole new bark
If you plant a tree
On the spot relieve the fever
I belive we can't be free
Unless we achieve this together
So what's the possibility they can scan
If its he I She She We I I We
A cast N dice with X faces
Expect a nexus so complex
That it can bend space and time
I'm like two short Planks
But thanks
The mathematics is fine
Let it rearrange the ranks
Give thanks in frequency frequently vibes in unity
No pranks
Equality equals these unmentioned MCs getting
N dimensional space, grace, face it
I'm like two short planks
Let it rearrange the ranks
Give thanks in frequency frequently vibes in unity
No pranks
Equality equals these unmentioned MCs getting
N dimensional space, grace, face it
I'm like two short planks
Seems to me
I have to ask her
Whether it's Run D.M.C
We're going after
Or DMT to construct a world party
While every angle of the firework
We see simultaneously
Every part of this work goes out to
I am we
And I would like to give thanks
To all present company
See you later simulator
Lets all stay free, shooting
On the DMT
So each spark goes which
Fire bun. The righteous cry
before bed. I contemplate Bushido
Do or, the way of the Samurai
I rock prayer pose because
I suppose the bugs
Give you fire like the voice of God
Keep watching fireworks (in the sky
Its all good
N Dice disect direction
Indirectly in reflection, oppose
Accepted action mirrors dictation, an ambidexterity
Wrote learned paths chew less glucose
Stochastic activity. Energy invested in enlightened heresy
N Dice the dire consequence
Of missed details. Deleted emails
These, the necessary edits for power
Necessarily introduce inequality
But Dam
Dam
Dam
The Tigres Euphrates
Begat present mercies
Birthplace where wet clay was first pressed
The lasting imprints of baked tablets
Request justice and recorded accounts
Most other beasts labour on four legs
Our bipedalism yet begets responsibility
We got thumbs and larynx, behoves combined humanity
How can we explain this to the moths
The moths dying on
Dying on the electric light
How can we explain to the moths
What we have done.
Is constraint freedom?
What a foolish thought
Is cannot be derived from ought
Unconstrained thought is free
But you a pay a price now
So I roll dice
And talk to Pascal with glee
About Dopamine addiction
About gambling, gambol
The gay fields of spring lambs youth
About jam tomorrow
Jam tomorrow as my proof.
Self command is the highest virtue
Said Smith
But commands are not freedom
External laws not autonomy
More autonomy is not freedom
Internal laws are autonomy
Oathes may bring simplicity, capability
Oathes may reduce the range of possibility
Make us predictable, enable
But they do not make us free.
My own laws are breakable
Therefore law broken is freedom.
Freedom is that range of action
That causes no harm
And in this alarm we ask of law
What damage have you wrought
Do you attempt to derive ought
From is? Are you dizzy
With power. If this our finest hour
Is freedom the pleasure
Of a thermostatic shower
A Goldilocks soul?
Is freedom, sometimes hot, sometimes cold?
Constraint, Oaths, Oats, Mushrooms
The murder of Ginseng, one atonement
The expansion of aridity
The littorals, the Thessalocracy
Where will we sail the open blue
The sunshine
The spotless sky
We wil sail again on carbon
Sequestered fibres from the clouds
Eat farmed dove
That insulate the arctic with their nests
When they lay rail over the Bering Strait
Because the seas are so low
We'll meet again there
The Voice of God told me so.
Spit on this and polish it
No one likes broken classes
Loud intruders, glum guests
Burglars who rifle through your draws
No one likes any of this
It makes you sick to the pit
The violations. But
The frustration eases
When you put your things
When you accept that
The burglar swag bagged your
Hierlooms. Kidnapped you children
Smashed your friendships
Because they saw you coming
Because they knew what you could do.
Paraheliotropic trees
I played Joyce
No Choice
It was a choice absence
Of Choice
An undefined preference suggested
And now I make London Dublin
Make Natural Philosophy
Like Linnaeus
And measure
Growing within me.
Maureen in so calm
I sometimes call her Rosemary
Chips, chip it
I called across the park
Field
Markes pin ton ypro
Ti chreizazetai gia na sas kanei eftychismenous
I heard
Ilithioi
Idiotner
Aptal, Salak, Ahmak
I doubted it
And watched planes wave
Unpaintable in the summer
Wind
Park sport, buck shot
Beer, magic Mushrooms
Oats and gut rot
That's what made this country great
Do you have any idea about
Tyrenian Purple
A snail extinct to dye
The garments of kings
Constantinople
Choke holds
Like Cairo
And where was the dog born
#DonTheBurkha
#WhoSaysKarlMarxWasWrong
#JeffBezosIsADemonPawn
#LauraKuensbergsLiarsSmile
#TaxEvadingClasses
Theresa May trained Salman Abedi
#GlobalPlutocraticCoup
#MuhamedWasABedhou
That kind of thing.
Piracy. What we share with the Thais
The tie to Java
Srivayranjaya the cogs turn
Tuns wallow greedy from the wide rivers
The Rhine, Seine, Ganges, Mekong
Pick them off
When the cogs turn
The springs inaccurate, well springs unmooreable
The brandy, Scotch and Silk
Drake
The golden Hind
Keynes did the maths
Make no mistake
You'll find
Its piracy
What made this country great
Byzantium. The Son of Macedon
Fell after Afghanistan
Like Napoleon
The white peaks of Panjashir
Like Victoria
The Bamyam stone Buddha
The Bactrians told us where fire is from
These people born in clouds
The Son of Macedon
Made art from massacre
Mass surrender from novel myths
Told stories of winged soldiers
Poisoned by his own scared generals
But the Selucid spoke
Above the heads of Marsh Arabs
Above the heads of Tyre and Aleppo
Above the heads of Baghdad
Their script held in the east
Even as home fell to Rome
Cyrillic in the Censers
Its is all our fault
Every error accumulated since Eden
Sits on the shoulders of every
And each
Do you have any idea
About Greece?
Son of the Garden
I was seduced by the infinite
By the prospects of mathematics
Unending. Under the Banyan
In Banyam did Gautama
Ever consider 22/7
I asked a child
These infinites, permanences
That repeat across biology
Link lives together like vectors
Infinite points
Gunpowder timelapse on a blockchain
The immortal soul, untouchables
With no need for the wheel, the coin
For Pi, Epsilon, Phi
Do you have any idea about Greece?
On the return from Rogers
I got lost, asked to speed
With proper care for time
Turned off my phone
Focused on flower petals
Fibonacci, fractals
The dimensions
Folly Lane, McEntee Avenue
Gurney St. Names of friends unseen
Folly I know best, so lost
Of the Marshes and Blackberries
The held Brambles, purple corpuscles
Acid tart started my machinery
The perspective on pylons
The lines of electrons
Streaming from the power stations
Connected guts of the city
Power stations the tall grey batteries
Swaying grey silver trees
Some fool interfered
In my soft focus with intrusion
I danced with a grey dreadlock
Party by a narrow boat
Up near Picket's lock
I turned my phone off
And focused
Less on haste than speed
.Norway saved its oil
They all drive Teslas
The Government gives out Christmas presents
Roughly 72% socialist. The percentage of Norweigan GDP
Generated by state owned companies.
And they own 1.2% of every listed company
In the world collectively.
Statoil
I know nothing of reindeer here in the UK
Pass lee, Pass
Watch Corry and her
Story, Pass Lee
"Dlaczego sweica swiathem w haszych oczach"
"Aap grees ke baare mein jya jaanate hain"
Maybe that's what ended
The ice age
I wondered as I wandered
Thick as two short Planks
Give thanks
But if my maths was better
They'd be longer
Probably energy is frequency
And mass is energy and mass
Bends space time and has gravity
So harmonius frequency
Can bend too short planks
I went to watercolour along the Lea
Local, not the struggle to the streets
The Strand, Somerset House
I sat on the Hale, where before
The police shot Duggan
And Broadwater farm led London
In riot, when they locked up kids
And Cameron gave that speech
"There are members among us who expect
I sat by there with paint and water
An old friend walked by
Like so many he had taken solace
On the canal, passing on the one line
We cannot lose. The attraction
To water, the valleys, the low
Places lush with rushes, the
Shallow waters safe
I ate grass seeds as an experiment
After two days diarohea and cold baths
I concluded it was more leaves
Than grass I was after.
So after some confusion
I found myself at the crossroads
The Devil was beautiful
But the confusion was
My Soul was never on offer
Proffer diamonds and Kingdoms
Riches among men
I said, bitch you fit
But me and you never friends
And demons need love
But the devil needs to get fucked
So I fucked the devil on the crossroads
After St.James, After Westminster
Up Embankment and along past temple
The Devil asked to Dance
But I choose my patrners with care
For care, the Devil May
But I fucked the devil in the
Middle of the crossroads
Left the infernal bitch sweating
Fucked her so hard she crying
To see me again
Where the road curves
By Blackfriars
I fucked the Devil at the
Crossroads till her head exploded
Left her sweating and gagging for more
I guess that's how love do.
Why an explosives dog, with its own social media account?
So I sent a text
To the type of people you text
When you get a hint like this
Got back a fire gif
Had the most surreal bus trip
Some nutella on toast
Woke up the next day
Conversing with ghosts.
There is a calypso rythmn
That riots in this silence
Lambda, Lambada
I cannot grasp ether like air
I dance to both without care
I am still
In my tree
Is this stillness
This purpose in silence
Is this freedom?
This new society
The clothes of old friends on my loins
The clothes of old friends
Emperors
I cannot stare at sunlight & mirrors
The blinding echo
High in my tree
Tea leaves made from Barley
B Vitamins, malt, a pinch
Of salt or sugar
Wobble pairs and wombles
The care of Uncle Orinoco
There are no stairs to my tree house
This act of faith
Documentary evidence, compliance
I confide in Barley malt
Look upon the growing branches
There is a calypso rythmn
That riots in this silence
Lambda, Lambada
I cannot grasp ether like air
I dance to both without care
I am still
In my tree
Is this stillness
This purpose in silence
Is this freedom?
This new society
The clothes of old friends on my loins
The clothes of old friends
I cannot stare at sunlight & mirrors
High in my tree
Tea leaves made from Barley
B Vitamins, malt, a pinch
Of salt or sugar
Wobble pairs and wombles
The care of Uncle Orinoco
There are no stairs to my tree house
This act of faith
Shinrin Yoku
Documentary evidence, compliance
I confide in Barley malt
Lode upon the growing branches
Is a compass a cage?
The firm magnetism of direction
Is a compass point a cage.
Is a compass a cage
The firm magnetism of direction
Is a compass point a cage.
Are these associations
Of crumbling empire
Ltd. Trust. Charity
Freedom
When it measures
Capability, Society, Acts of Piety
The transcedence
The voice of the heart
God viruses, ancient as the Indus
Under these clouds
The satellites struggle to see
Do you want chips with that
Sarah
Sarah was happy, went to parties
Let her hair down
Sarah I rarely saw. Past her by. No confetti for me. Dopey
Droopy. Red eyes from writing
Smoke struck cindered
Sitting up a tree in a storm
Waiting for lightening
Or tortoises.
The gift of Greek philosophy
The subtle infinity of mathematics
Was to be able to laugh at this
Harsh inner voice
Heard the god of Bhagvad Gita, Tora
The Vedas
The gift of mathematics was fire
When sparks connect
For votive sacrifice, voice barks orders
And all we contrast with infinity
Immediately, is light and laughter
The gift of Greek philosophy
Saved us from the horse
At Salamis
But it did not save Greece
Put the Great Bear in the sky
Built walls that decorate
Our museums. The thundering
The blue, blue sea
The middle earth myth
Helas and Indus, the Ayrian Road
The secret guilt of Nubia
The forgotten Zebra, feral
In strains of Joyce
There are no O'Rourkes on our memorials. No Flannerys, O'Tooles
There are no Choudrys, Guptas, Singhs
When the trenches ran filthier
Than the Ganges
Sassoon, Brooke, Owen, Wittgenstein
The names are English, no parenthesis
On the Parish Stones.
If you don't know Theo
Theobromine
My brother Theo
God molecules Cocoa
If you don't know
I live on olive oil, magic mushrooms
And Cocoa
Marmite and malt loaf
B
The 91% food stuffs, digestible
Suggest when a dirigible
Sits atop a wave
If it is self righting
It can be saved
The sea may be unruly, misbehave
But self-writing
Rewriting the self
Requires neural plasticity
Psilocybin, Lysurgic Acid
Theobromine, B-Vitamins
And fat
All of that, All of that
I have a garden full of herbs
Parsley, sage, Rosemary and Thyme
We need more fairs
These friends of mine.
If this turns
Will we tear up the cobbles
Will we sell the lead
From the church rooves to China
Will we be that free
To tear up cobblestones
And throw them at police horses
Will we be so free
So as not to tear up cobblestones
So as not sell the church roof
In a stroke of lightening
Throwing cobblestones at a carthorse
I mistook for police
Throwing cabbages
I mistook for cobblestones
At a carthorse I mistook for police
Will I think myself deluded?
Throwing cauliflower
Will I think myself more free
On Sunday
Or on Monday
Or would it have to be a Friday after tea
To feel free
Throwing cobblestones at a horse
Yes
It would take a fish supper
To understand the freedom
Of throwing cabbages at a horse
In delusion. In enlightenment
I think this is a dreyhorse
Not the police
This horse brings beer
We can all find police in a glass.
If we can find freedom in a glass
Do we need police
Will my freedom come
And take me away like police
Freedom in a uniform
Police with radios and vans
Will I pick up police as I go along
If we can find police in a glass
Do we need freedom
Will my police come
And take me away like freedom
Police in a uniform
Freedom with radios and vans
Will I pick up freedom as I go along
Is Freedom the death rattle
Rubble from the pillars of the temple
Is this capable, capacity
Capacitors in satellites integrating consciousness
With circadian clocks
The Voice of god spliced with a gay man's smile
They put him on the 50
Turing, Poisoned him a pillock
In a flat in Wilmslow
Chasing what they never learnt
In the trenches
Why, Why, Why, Delilah.
Delilah listened. No one thanked her
She had a bad name
The name rang a bell for many
But it wasn't her scissors
It was the hair she brushed
Back from her ears
That copper thread so straight
Turing was gay, but loved Delilah
So much they made peace.
There was an archer by Arjuna
His name lost to me like roads
I take aim at the eyes of Gods
Vectors. All in confusion
The race runs faster
Beneath my feet the stiller
I am. We are
I think therefore
The race runs
It is 8 O'clock and not yet dark
I do no think my stock is safe
I have not boiled it for days
It is 8 O'clock and still light
My food not yet cooked
The stock's pungent challenge rises
The steam fills the kitchen
Dinner will be simple
Descartes boiler was polished
By an old woman with a cloth
Who would rather not have known
But occassionally the roads would cross
The winding path to the three Kings
Off angel, he would say
x and why
And she would wave the rag
Worry off, his crazed face
The hilarity of Euclid
Epicurus, soft curves and turn of brass
Of squares
Of maps
I wonder how many unnamed hands
Polished that brass
I wonder if any ever thought
To light it
They might have saved a French church.
Hanuman was a hero like Balubi
Like the silk weaving of Ganesh
That quietly spoke of some success
Over my father's libraried silence
Settled by the simple hessian I painted
Sunshine yellow to bring
Sunshine back to the room
Where I erected 20 m2 of books
Like a household shrine.
Hanuman was a monkey God
Who sought to retrieve love
Stolen by jealous demons, who would
Blind man, make fearful slaves.
Blind dolphins and blacken waves.
My room up two flights of stairs from there had
Blinds too thin
To block out street lights
Every passing car brought doppler
Taught refraction
Now both windows open
And my sister is the only one that smokes.
The plague houses are opening again
This poem will be late
The tired eyes will have discovered Parsley
From Nature articles on fruit flies
The restaurants will have dreamed
Of salad carousels
West Africa taken up arms
To defend Thiobromine
God molecules
They must've raced to this virus
Like the moon
Dug it out of swamps, texts, relics
How many God viruses, how much gold
How many genetic edits
What code.
When Eisenhower echoed. Cobol. Copper
All that code. Refrigeration
Freeze dried freedom of a space race
All the while we tried to write a virus
Tried to make a wireless small
Small and loud
Small and loud
Like the voice of God
All lost in the freeze dried freedom
Of a space race
His masters voice
His masters voice, I sit like a dog
By the gramaphone
The flower cone quizzical
Cocaine, sugar, cream, scotch
I sit like a dog wondering
Does vibration make a 4D cone?
I sit like a dog
Bowl barren barkless
As basketcase Bangladesh
Will there be biscuits?
His master's voice vacates
The verandah leaving only the question
Can I a dog fill its own bowl under the law?
The gramaphone might be a conch
Venus, brown skinned like the sunned
Hairflowing copper
Venus copper skinned like the sunned
Cambodians who turned Pacific currents
In the cold. The fired dug out, pine boat
Axe and feathers, resin. When the Ice Dragon
Was at rest
And Indonesia was walking distance
Hiawatha, bearing straight
The great scout circulating
The Pacific
The red skins, Funan
They chased Cowrie shells
Through mud.
The gramaphone, I sit like a dog
His master's voice
Retrenches
Is this conch from whence
A Venus spills
My bowl. Will it be filled
Is the vibration another dimension
Are we all just tokens
Is it that the dog bit
Bit its metal chain
Ripped the expensive lock off
And the ledge, liminal
Barely legibile, the speeding
Hieroglyphics in my head
This dizzying vibration by the gramaphone
Scotch, sugar and cream
A roll in the mud
Mudrahs. The Art of Madras
That lost the Ice Age
That froze the trenches
That made Wittgenstein
Hear the voice of God
Was Mao the 5th Abrahamic pophet
Or my cat?
This is a security feature
The computer asks me
For my favourite revolutionary
On entry
A long haired tortoishell I still
Remember bowing to when it climbed
Feeling the love when late, early
Clocks off caned I fell into the bathroom
After ravin
Then Mao was the cat on my back.
When I was cowering on the floor
Cat called Mao on my back
Buzzin off my nut on MDMA
Wondering if my mother would come in
On a Sunday morning
And find me kowtowed in love
With Mao on my back in the bathroom
Sometimes when I was calm
Mao would just sit on my shoulder
My sister did Alexander technique
And played violin
Mao would sit on her shoulder
And purr in her ear
It happened a few times
My mother never came in
I would sit in a deep japanese bath
Coming down
Mao was a beautiful cat.
When Mao was the cat on the mat
Or put on a hat it is clear
Abraham was afraid
Abraham had some want or regret
Abraham believed in a world of things
Abraham had ego and feelings
The hoarse voice
Jesus came to Buddha in Kashmir.
Data is the new Oil
Zuckerberg is wanking
When your bird is a hoe,
priceless
Zuckerberg is wanking
They didn't know what to do with oil
We had it for centuries
Didn't get what they hadn't got
The Coptics got it. Up in the monasteries
Those old bowls
And we just slipped in it
Spilled in puddles
Lit the eternal flame
Extinguished the eternal flame
In experiment before understanding
Each atom attaches stochastically
Attuning, altering, in quantum chemistry
The system of chaos that took the pressure off
Released gas to keep the flame
To keep the gas issuing from the fissure
Electrons must organise
Into a flame.
Rockerfeller set it on fire
Wirecard fraud got late entrants
Repenting, relentless, unextinguished
Caesium spans the suns zone
The breath is distinguished
Electrics, gramaphone
I stress this English is strained
By stones, pebbles, plums, but not devils
I shake my bones. Never complain
The Voice of God adds
Goods for Bads, shoulds for hads
You been tempting, pre-empting, lent
Time to find eyes, bare lies, the choir singing
They had the lot of us, on top of us for a fix
The voice of God what will it give you
The bowl that feeds you
And if you need, heed the creeds
99% sweat, the rest bleed
I heard first blast fingers beating pulse
Above the button
When sweat getting on
Like the windows caving in
Everybody takes a station
One nation ain't celebrating
4th of July, why would we lie
Setting Rockerfeller statues on fire like we had no eyes
I am we, we did not miss the cots
Well shit they burnt the oil
We'll burn the data too
But everybit of data is blockchain
With me you and bird flu
Chained the block like ships
Clock, how the clock shifts
East West dialectics, hectic respect
Genetic infected Voice of God don't bring bliss
I feel it in my chromosones
Can you get Crispr than this.
Hit the floorscatter
Don't no one fucking move
Black lives matter
Ratta tat tata
Rats turned ratters
Tatters and rats
Rats in tatters
Juiced smack like pork
There were rules of engagement
Sanity drains lead to estrangement
Loosed renewed noose my x
Poppy
Before the cotton fields
They got the west hooked on sugar, tea
Laudernam, alchol and opium
The the rest is less wind
Lost in a hurricaine
Frankly my dear
Complaining in the Voice of God
Feels better, getter
Case of sore knees, kidneys
Case of Crystal, a zoot and sleep
Blacklight scatters the equator's soul
Ashanti gold guns asanas, outdid Euclid
Arawak got rinsed thin like freckles
Hackles react to talk of melting pots
I-Kung minorities, the additions
Editions, specially selected
For starvation and saltless existence
San. Basic genetics
Chinese engineering excellence
Indian agricultural advances
Culture, cultivated
Carib, the ancient Marsh Arab
Papyrus, I thought I was special
Asking why us. I asked James Joyce
With modern voice. Heard Kendrick
Flicked through a library on a satellite dish
Specially selected Edison editing
Everything every win for Love Ken
Is different
Brings us together.
GNI co efficient
GNU its UNIX forever
The Coptic sects secrets
Wattle and daub the high hills
The highlands, whence rain washes sand
Grain by gravity each N-faced irregularity
Each tumble simple voices and wait
As faces pile in the timer does God play Dice
Coptic Sects are forgotten to Anglicans
Ancient inconveinences
Like hieroglyphics, pre roman glyphs
When mathematics became generalist
I didn't exist but persisted
My generation was clueless
We just glued it together as it came
Science was a virus on all this
There was a coherence in myth
Some were bound to their DNA
Trained like plant breeds in caste
But refrigeration and sanitation
There was no explanation
But now you can look up God in the Cloud.
Isn't gambling a vice
Isn't information feedback
Just a cheap dopamine fix
If I only wager one electron
On a hurricane
And wonder
How many others will cause hurricanes
Hereafter
Whether the price of hurricanes will fall
They'll be cheap
And my electron might be face up, charm.
If I gamble my right arm
On a hurricane
I loose my right arm or get hit
By a hurricane.
I sat in this stone cell
Boarded window like a bird box
Letterbox for order. Disorders
The old borders transgressed
I was a trafick traversty
So they locked me in a birdbox
A birdbox I could not break
And made me call it freedom
Cream Sugar Cocoa, Scotch
The stuff of Kings
I broke out of my bird box
And went walking
I need you to do that too.
rar, rar, rar
The tartar on the ra ra
For the ra ra
Rather spinach
Mistake blood for iron
Iron for Gold
Gold for the Voice of God
They burnt temples in search
Launched sputnik
When they should've been grooming
Horses, rolling in mud.
After the archers
Like clouds
Ancient Egypt settled the Nile
Papyrus petals at the littoral
Lost pearls furled like scrolls
Roll after role. The time of fractions and triangles
Delta, where the river spreads, fingertips
Edge the littorals with clay pots
Lost but for sand dry municipal dumps
The desert where hebrew shopping lists
Request
Please send more Papyrus this
Stone is hard to write on
The temples by the littorals
Have carvings of cats
Carving of some worshiped
Idols the Ithiop built
Goats grazed, cats ate
Toxoplasma gondii infected
This peculiar primate
Made men docile
And women love cats
The Islamic armies, like people of the Steppe
Travelled on horseback with goats and sheep
Made conquest of all in their path
From Cordoba to Calcutta, Budapest to Kabul
They also had Camels
Way, way before, the Yamnaya met Bactrians
In a lost BC heard myths of fire
The domesticated the horse, spread through war
myths of Centaurs
Settled the rivers, the Oxus, created art
Culture and of course
Were slaughtered by horsemen
Who settled the fertile rivers, created art
And culture and of course then
They in their turn were slaughtered by horsemen
The camel was designed by a committee
It might not be as noble or as pretty
It might get the hump and spit
She might on occassion be a fat git
But it can go without food or water
For longer than anything ought ta
They're a bit smarter
When the camels run off
You know things are tough.
The Tang dynasty did not diet
Sent an embassy to India
To learn about Sugar
Tangy sugar came to China
At same time as Bhodidharma
Founder of Chan and Shaolin
The same century Mohammed was born
St. Benedict and St. Augustine set off
For Cantebury, to make a less austere monastery.
6th century AD
Set the Tang up for three centuries, and chaos, until the Song came
Sugar, what a set of coincidences.
If I am coerced in line with my interests
Can I decide my opportunity cost
Are my many divergent interests diverse?
If context makes preference
Lunch determines my moral compass
Then I can throw cabbages at a cart horse
Why wouldn't a horse
Rejoice in being hit by a Savoy, a Sweetheart
If I placed a Sweetheart
At the feet of a horse would any of us be free?
Is focus, the joy of the instant moment
A component of Freedom
Languid loose thought and relaxation the opposite
Inapposite. Perhaps
If focus is needed for freedom
And nothing focuses the mind like
The threat of hanging
I might be freest meditating in my cell
Before the gallows
Yet. If there is the threat of hanging
Without doors banging
Locks clanging
If my hands and feet are free
And my mind focused
Surely this is the locus of capability.
You see power never knew love
Or if it did. it forgot
Power doesn't dance, it forces
And so it couldn't see what would be lost
Dopamine. Dope are mean. It kills your empathy
And if love was intimacy
A shared privacy
A hideous affront to surveillance and prying eyes
This piracy. Power
Would never be able to understand
So they made love a trap
And killed it like that.
So it was like a rave in a cave
An ancient cave, walls coloured in creations, neolithic
A gallery of rings to hold the iron chains
A fire pit with runes and bones where pyrotechnics
Threw gaily dancing shadows for the games
Dank Mean Time. Like Greenwhich
But different all the same
And every voice was saying
Come to the rave come to the rave
But I thought of troglydytes, cave bears, damp
And said, "Thanks, I like it, it's sunny out here."
Over the hills of Maggog
That might have been higher then
Two bottles of scotch as gifts
For One, his son was bound for Piraeus
Another had joined the Tanks
Yorkshire. RNA is mines in their blood
Soot black dark furnaces, freezers
Those who knew fear and scenery
Pat had David Attenborough on the wide screen
And had just run a bath
I passed by Ely and sketched, aping Constable
Wondered what justice there was in
Peterborough already below sea level
At the till aisle waiting for a train via Waitrose.
Cambridge is calm
Doncaster desolate,
Bearded bodies bags of frayed clothes in doorways
Dereliction may yet
Make a desirable vogue. When I arrived
I checked if the trees I pulled up were alive
One had little space by the damson sucker and died
And next door who argued over a scratched car
Brown people on the roof
He had set all his caged birds free
After he heard how they sung in spring
In spring when he heard the singing
I wonder how many like me got lost
Locked up. Left on the trolley
When the ventilator went to the prime minister
Or Someone richer
We lost Tai, Ricky's brother found on the sofa
Donna's mum died on a visit to the ward, diabetic.
Some of the brightest of the underclass
My aunt Larry, double hemisphere stroke the day I first published this.
Fascists
I wonder what the data's worth.
I used to count magpies
One for sorrow, two for mirth
Because space-time habitat
Creatures of omen travel bad times alone
But the Chinese gassed them like us
With a trans species virus
And now I stand by the tree asking
Can we talk?
I look at the spider above the bath
Outside its own web
Paralysed with fear
In the early days they sent a bee
It barged into the light
Like it was a moth
A sane bee doesn't barge into lights
A sane bee is guided by the dance
I don't count magpies anymore
I leave little to chance.
And if my decision and actions
Are free
If this is not just a fortuitous
Alignment of interests with power
It may only last hours
Days. The burning in my bones
Is the weight of chains
The solace of a parsley pot
If this is the freedom I have got
I will drink its moments
For come autumn
There may be new developments
Updated chains
New causes to fight
The pace of change
The global brain
The destruction of veracity
They may develop an end to freedom
We have that capacity.
At Blackfriars, Where the road turns
There must be bones
Of a lost monastery
There must be an echo of scholarship
And an elegy
The habits. The simple garb. God's word
The Carib. Bartholomew Columbus
Founded St. Domingo, The Taino
Dispossessed in the name of charity
The first Colonial toehold, the first castle
The first genocide and clevage
And now we see Haiti
Hobbled for its bid for freedom
Hobbled by intemperate power
Hobbled by hippocrisy of France, the US
Human rights only for whites, for pinks
We hold these truths to be
Self evident that Haiti, Domenica
Were created in paradise
By learned theologians, dreaming of utopia.
Life was made from clay
So does a slim volume in Canto
"Seven secrets to the origin of life"
Like the constituents
That make metabolites
Positive, negative positive
Charged layers self assemble
Attract elements in air pockets
With opposite charged end caps
So evolved eukayrotes
Brain cells, phages
Then after clay came early life
Like viruses.
Celery and Garlic for the blood
Sweet potatoes for potassium and carotenes
A bay leaf, because I bought
The tree from Louise
And chicken bones
Because. Seriously. Because.
A brassica for a broad
Range of nutrients and chilli
For the liver and as ever
A rich dose of love, like Dolly.
"This is not the poem I intended to write"
Derek Walcott
A semantic species
The meaning of life is self created
Concentrate, then activity, actuated
Is meaningful
Cutting the grass with scissors
I found this explicated
And the purpose
Of life? To create the circumstances for life
Longevity exists
For us to alter the environment for our own.
Abraham was the first of the thirsty monotheists
The overarching and exclusive of arid climes
Where there is little water
The bottom and top bottled up by empires
Inheritors of the Shintashta, empires of chariots
The flat road between Jordan river and the sea
A highway for war
Fulcrum on which the old world turned
Where sapiens stopped for breath
Exiting Africa. The coast path
Between Egypt and Assyria
Abraham was born here, afraid and protective
Looking out across the Jordan to the deserts beyond
Looking for dust clouds rising in a high column.
The third Abrahamic prophet rode with herds
Of Asia Minor Camels, goats, horses, sheep.
Received enlightenment at Eid, April
Fasted from sun up to sun down, washed his great feet
Declared only women should wear veils.
A telos, teleology, a direction
An escatology, myth of salvation
Explanation without apology
This is the topology of faith
St. Simon had a police file
It said, harmless nut, but a rich German
A little after him, German journalist
Put the pieces together, prophetic
Base determines superstructure
How we produce goods begets the overarching law and culture
That we together, society, reach a state of heaven
Through the artifice of tamed industrialism
Karl Marx was charmed by chartists
Carried away by the paper carts, crates
Of names, piled papers and petitions
5 million, 30% of Britain, a modern Magna Carta
They got the vote. He was so rich he thought
The emerging urban middle class were poor
Karl Marx never saw crofters
Never went to the country farms
Nor saw half starved hands locked in sheds
This revolutionary, theoretically
Just wanted to turn Hegel on his head
But empiricism would have led
To the real world solution
That the revolutionary class
Are the food producers
Karl Marx was Jewish, saw heaven as time
Karl Marx was the fourth Abrahamic prophet.
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