A litany of sorts I take to drink
In all its cunning and sordid abandon
I take to drink a litany of sorts
In the wreckage of years
The unwavering shelter you remain and
Still dwell so much so
I take to heart an earnest ache to get well and
Entirely present
This final and continual act of Service I commit to memory
Always recovering in your love.
Later in life, a sweet peculiar breeze
which swept me off my feet but left me wanting-
wondering if it were mine to keep;
Which has lately become a wild, world-shattering wind
where from within I withstood the terrible love.
A terrible love, my dreamboat,
As all love is eternally terrible;
But still the object of my affection
You strange, mysterious thing.
And I myself a puzzle
somewhat porcelain
Like you;
An impenetrable island
somewhat
Like you
Whose presence is felt dearest
In absence and excesses
Like yours.
But yet I am different as you are different;
Difficult as all things persevering
Still, above all-
Together and growing
In Love.
J.
I would give a limb and three toes for something resembling a coherent whole
I do aspire towards the sisyphean task of exploiting complexity
But swimming unguided in the abysmal sea
gravely darkish and solemn
A fool's errand to wilfully sink
For I will sooner arrive and recollect
Than ever again march to the drum of defeat.
Speak, apostrophe.
I only ask to be
Institutionalised
The good citizen
A happy shipwreck
and a place to call home.
As far as the chase goes
fast miles after imaginary tails
Without trace nor destination.
On the imperialism of bounded rationality:
If you reckon the theories are perforated with imperfections; the models break like glass
You either become the iconoclast and plow the rich earth of academic tradition
Or please just relent and institutionalize with standard procedure already.
Bukowski on a disconcerting dervish
Be it by fluke or some parsimonious wake-up call
succinctly and with characteristic brute.
as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.
To be young, full of ideas and stupidity.
Towards maturity you entrench yourself in something that resembles consistency and thrive on its methods just so you know the brickwork is safer and sound
Than the wrecking ball of knowledge.
