i'm sorry... what?!

poetryfoundation.com's featured
blogger: Justin Phillip Reed,
In My Defense, Monsters: Notes on Black Poetic Grotesqueries,
Composite Humanity, and Freedoms of the Horrific, Part 3...

i'm sorry... were Estonians colonialists?
i can't relate, i can't relate to some
fiction of a history -
i can't face up to the readily available
masochism on display...

perhaps i'll do my cowardly
babushka doll routine...
my: ostrich manoeuvre...
how can this fine, fine article be even
related to?

what came of uncle tom and that coming
uncle: uncle Morris -
the dead fuck pleaser -
the most horrid archeologist known
to man - can i please escape the anglo-saxon
genesis story and put my origin
in india? hell... they too have elephants...
and if they don't have lions:
then at least they have tigers...
and they too have monkeys!

but this is only the tip of the iceberg...
in a respectable publication,
in the editorial section / comments...
a Melancie McDonagh writes:

• DNA tests are a tool of Satan...
• a man sued his wife for a breach
ofconfidence and the repayment
of childcare when he discovered
from a (DNA) test that his "son"
wasn't his...
• he's demanding her to reveal
the identity of his real father...
• oh grow up!
• this WAS the state of lots of men
in the pre-certainty era...
• and they just got on with it!
• cuckoos analogy

cuckoo or cuck?
clearly this women has to write for
a newspaper...
grow up? into what... a Jeremy Kyle
show? i could swear the polygraph
and DNA testing were popular,
once upon a time...

moralist who? this loser who would
rather go to a brothel than
on a tedium tangent of a date?
you would hope that a woman
would be more than a blind man's version
of the casino...

i've heard those words before:
'i think i'm pregnant'...
when settled on the cartesian bone breaker...
obviously; i doubt, therefore i am...
little more enthusiasm
with i think, therefore i am...
i could be thinking about running
a marathon...
and doubtless: i would think about
running a marathon -
without ever having to run a marathon...

pointless philosophical cul de sacs...

what a low hanging fruit...
• this WAS the state of lots of men
in the pre-certainty era...

pre-certainty, era? more like an epoch...
lots of men just fathered
semi-bastards...
most men competated
in the domain of surrogacy...
prior to this newspaper's comment section?
something about a Mr. Cheng
being detained by mainland China...
concerning the 'ong 'ong protests...
king yamahahamatashi inserts:
a poo ling omotto...

the pre-certainty "era" of... no sex before
marriage?
oh vey! men are becoming so
unscrupulous in their reasoning;
whatever law was, law isn't,
and law will never be...

this truly is... a long hanging fruit...
even i thought that the sunday edition
of a newsprint was respectable,
once upon a fairytale...
this just bites the dust and the hard earned
gold nugget of: achoo! bless you,
not thank you,
since what would socrates do with
all those turkeys come thanksgiving?
dialectics, as in:
being bombarded with as many fibrous
opinions as possible...
if there was "faith" once...
come to entertain a plethora
of opinions: i'm sure you will not even
have the time to digest them...
turkeys that you are...
you'll be bombarded with them...
but in a less subtle fashion akin
to propaganda...
and then... realise...
oh shit... the plateau...
i've been gagged into being force-fed
all these opinions...
without a dialectical outlet!

thank god that i managed to find
diacritics... naked Jack 'n' Jill
will never know...
how to shear a caron S into an acute S...
look 'ere...
shattered glaß... šattered glaz / glas...
enter the shearing scissors...
ściąga... or... śćιąga...
(it) pulls - ściąga...
or slang for ściąga-wka...
ściągawka - cheat sheet -
nogawka - leg trim of trousers...

what can be debated?
ści- v. śćι-,
how so?
well... the english language does use
diacritical marks...
but what is I to i or J to j
with our without the hydra heads...
ȷust lιke so...

pedantry for the boys,
neuroticism for the girls -
why would i CAPITAL a letter
at the beginning of a sentence?

why? it looks ugly... imagine a paragraph
It began as so. To my knowledge,
all of this was pandering to the wrong sort
of reader.
why do you not squeeze in
the S / Z ambiguity by inserting
the german ß?
it's neither a caron nor an acute
quadratic of either S or Z...
it's left... hanging in suspense...

we could learn from bukowski
meeting e. e. cummings...
somewhere along the way...
capital letters look ugly at the beginning
of sentences...

after all... whatever happened to
the pilcrow (¶)?
the same fate of the semicolon (;)?
i can imagine when the first
printing press was gearing up
to print print print...
the old paragraph must have looked
something aking to

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the modern paragraph?
died the slow death, this pilcrow,
didn't it?

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and here comes someone worried
about a "typo"... because the beginning
of a sentence, of a paragraph
is not: DAS CAPITAL!
what about the pilcrow,
what about the semicolon?

so much nearer to musical notation...
with a ¶... saving the rainforest...
one tree at a time!

capital a letter... hmm...
how about adding zee german ß
when an S is an ambigous Z
or when a Z is an ambigous S?
oh forget all the other diacritical
macaroon cakes of irritating sweetness
to have to add...

and why all this " " / ' ' of dialogues?
why not speed up a reading of a dialogue...
without a " ", he said...
the irish knew who to borrow from
the slavs... dialogue like bulletpoints...
dialogue like a list...
the narrator allows free reign of
the conversation...:
- blah blah
- blah blah too
- and are we supposed to express
a liberation from the string?
- i guess we are, to at least,
thankful.
- Jim! Savvy! i 'ere ordered you
two pints of blackout stout...
and two chasers of ms. amber!

flow... harakiri diat robo fan boy...
half a food processor,
and half a hand-held whisk...
ever i have perfected the lesson
of poaching an egg -
i forgot about frying one -
or settling it over with fried onion
and the scramble...

of the 7 available days of the week,
i try to perform 7 genocides
of sperm drowned in a flush,
while eating 3 poultry abortions...
seminal bewildering prose
to come from the Vatican yoke brigade
was expected...

what poetry is to music
is the cage of rhyme and memory erosion...
what is -esque -esque -esque...
the hindu temple of a kitchen...
some glorify atomic bombs:
i have an arsenal of spices...
and nodding sphinxes...
what is poetry by signature strokes
of a painting...
music went its way...
and it didn't drag poetry along with it...
for the die hard lyricist...
these kyrie eleison
acoustic spasms of a return
to puratinism...

sex is hardly poker...
then again: fucking with a suspense
of not gratifying is no fucking at all...
it's... mannequin posing...
testing limbs in limbo and...
something akin
to: polaroid snaps of algorithms...
the money wants to go outside
the lazying confines of a zoo
and test its limbs on the canvas
of a jungle...

such low hanging fruit...
i've come to a conclusion...
newspapers are printed on paper
more dirty than the concept of
money is printed on...
the dynamic of debit "v." credit...

i can fathom debit earning and debit
spending...
but i just can't quiet consider
debit earning and credit spending...
then again:
do we earn a credit,
or do we earn a debit...
if we earn a credit... what can we
save for a rainy day?
if we only earn to spend?
i like to think we earn a debit...
rather than a credit...

they call it a universal credit...
but they, "they" (the omniscient
paranoid entity, of they)
do not call it a universal debit...
everyone will be willing
to give a universal credit...
not everyone, though,
with provide a universal debit...

such tiny words,
yet how disparaging in what's to be
invested in...
no one will give our free debit...
yet everyone will give out
free credit...

who is the d.j. of the pandemonium disco?
satan is a dwarf when compared
to mammon...
usury: sleeping money
that somehow works in sleep...
multiplying itself via
ontologically defying characteristics
of a multiplier X (non-aglebraic
mystery end point)...

certain of usury...
money multiplies money...
but a stone doesn't multiply a stone
into an architecture of a mountain...
the new debate comes
from the thesaurus and "nuance"...
universal debit? sounds amazing...
universal credit? em...
shady... really shady...
i am given free money...
but money that i have to spend...
not money that i can save...

if i am given a universal credit...
i can't amount to translating
credit, into debit...
universal basic income...
i.e.: debt...
since nations have a universal
basic "income"...
that translates into debt...
and they subsequently do not spend
via debit, rather, via credit...
what is income?
income becomes credit...
which is debt...
or, rather... you can place
a credit on a debt...
but you can't place a debit on
a debt...
you can inflate a debt with
more credit...
the current market is like the warped
scenario of monetary inflation...
the same banknote that
was once worth $10...
is now worth $10,000,000,000...

money is not mathematics...
which is why most mathematicians
are terrible at arithemtic...

debit and debt...
credit and debt...
perhaps i only understand debit economics...
you spend what you earn,
rather than spend, regardless of what you earn...
to have to spend and save at the same time?
i once owned a credit card...
after a while i didn't know what
the point of it was...
i used a credit card like i would use
a debit card...
but the credit card was annoying
in that i bought something and then
paid later...
with a debit card i bought something
and paid for it simultaneously...
credit = debt in the future...
why is money so governed by time?
money is truly an exclusive temporal
manifestation of things...
it has about as much knowledge of
space as a stone has about
a consciousness implied by a...
fucking oyster.

the concept of credit is bewildering...
why own a credit card...
when you can use a debit card?
a credit card had to become something
of a g.i. joe -esque shitty toy...
it's quiet hard to find yourself in
debt with a debit mentality...
sure... the overdraft bank limit...
it's money... the dirtiest pieces of paper
in the world...
but then england is moving
toward plastic banknotes...
good to know...
now the dirtiest pieces of paper
are newspapers...
what was once upon a time the dirtiest...
newspapers are the new money...

i don't even think this excavation
mini-project is worth noting as being
succesful.