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Friday, 10 July 2026

For Faouzia El Wahabi (rough draft/unfinished)


They are playing a game. They are playing at not playing a game. If I show them I see they are, I shall break the rules and they will punish me. I must play their game, of not seeing I see the game. 

R.D. Laing

The Ideal looks down 

on Beckley Foundation  

flora in calyx light against rain 

decanted socially conscious

capital against the fen,

the people as the largest gravity fountain

in the world its annular nozzle

emerges as a ring, not a column

parterres to wild neuralink Holy Lady

outside what has been

inside bored hub to spoke & protocode

Kingdom come monopoly

& revelation a ‘tower’ was another way 

of naming heaven

done in the home  

that evil air may breath out ritual

engines of entheogenic dig out

stones of folly or internal disorders

of the head cant get the beauty

inside polyethylene cored

brainblood the volume of no music,

faintest stigma 

Every moment in business happens only once. 

fielding air holier then the rift of poetry   

dim corollas flow of rheum over time 

disappearing The Common Sense Group

to stars killing over-flying birds 

in Rachmaneqsue Major 

as light was coming 

to bleach everything 

glass & venous valves, 'I can hire one half

of the poets to kill the other half'-

a psychic light now urbanite

ethers compèred malicious

brios underwriting themselves.


The outside but this is not enough 

beauty inside obsidian breath 

against the past cavity barriers 

bringing forth dead Child 

the seeing stones on Baby Rock

Asset matting seagrass

& Regeneration Hole 

TMO in the Head Mother

neuropeptides the most silent political voice

in battleship grey after secession,

exodus after orchards exit gates

gardenia-scented 100 flacons

heartbeat in the brain

songs out of datasets

gentle euphoriants

Helion & Oklo glass hearted

zero to one points there

it hurts like the Arctic Circle,

like sacred fire

& I love to shut my eyes 

understood the code got out inside

in time the Civet rooms at the HQs 

of luxury brands with extra-thick doors 

preventing it from seeping out

words have no smell their souls 

aseptic in entrails Gilles le niais

below the hedonic zero minimise pain 

on the pedosphere smothering 

the ambrettes smothering the voices

saved go back to the start 

the cruelty-free beach 

once mined lasts forever

& pain is what the person says hurts