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
stones or internal disorders of the head
cant get the beauty inside polyethylene
brainblood cored the volume
of no music.
Every moment in business happens only once.
Air fielding holier then the rift of poetry
dim corollas the flow of rheum over time
disappearing The Common Sense Group
killing stars over-flying birds
in Rachmaneqsue Major
cultural Marxist dogmas cantilever
as light was coming in
to bleach everything again
the glass & venous valves
'I can hire one half of the poets to kill the other half'
the psychic light now urbanite
ether people of nowhere
compèred malicious brios underwriting
themselves the outside stereoed
but this is not enough
beauty inside obsidian breath
cavity barriers bringing forth dead Child
the seeing stones on Baby Rock
& Asset matting seagrass unlocks
Regeneration Hole TMO
in the MotherHead.
Neuropeptides 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
there it hurts like the Arctic Circle
like sacred fire & I love to shut my eyes
in 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
minimising pain on the pedosphere
ambrettes smothering the voices
saved to go back to the start again,
the cruelty-free beach once mined lasts forever
& pain is what the person says hurts
