i attempted to listen to these talk shows
while having caught a moth in my hand,
with a hand clenched into a quasi-fist
i waited for the moth to attempt its
numerous escapes...
as if walking down a market of silk...

what is there to truly rebel against?
all the former avenues have become
cul de sacs... the safety default is missing...
is lost...
even if people wanted to rebel
in that old fashion individualistic sense
of becoming the unleashed
wild animal under a zoological scrutiny...

i have no naturally inhibited
material to work with...
there's nothing to rebel against...
the former cushion of a fall-back
is no more than a brick..

i have to write this without convinction...

pride of the "west" -
the jurisprudence of:
innocent until proven guilty -
how did that one wriggle out
from the mea culpa mantra?
just wondering -
first they tell you to chant mea
culpa...
but then: the wriggling worm
of innocent until proven guilty...

the currency of china -
tao?
besides... you can have an authorative
regime in place -
and by god, do they drob (no p -
not a mistake)
the nuke...

social credit... well...
at least they're transparent about what
they're doing...
i like that... i like transparency...

back in the "west": still gloating
about having defeated the soviets -
still gloating, proud and gloating -
gluttonous gloating -
it's quiet... quiet... frivolous...
one can simply tire
of having vanquished an enemy
while still having to dance
on the grave...

nazi germany, and its chiral siamese
underbelly of communist china -
but at least they tell you what
they expect...
everything about the power
of the government is...
intrigue... and shadow theatre...

when fear and paranoia died with
the cold war... no world war III
on the horizon... things are too...
well oiled...
what can replace fear and paranoia...
if not intrigue... a game
of chinese whispers...

but at least you are told,
quiet clearly: what you can and can't do...
i'd personally like to know
whether i'm aiming at a bullseye
or whether i'm aiming
at a heap of turd...

then again... they did reinvent
the c.c.t.v. omniscient octopus god
of every sucker on a tentacle
replaced by an eye...
they have allowed for the grey mass
of humanity to feel like
some sort of: esque celebrity -
people... who would never experience
self-consciousness -
apparently god has landed in china...
not in h'america...

a billion people are required...
if it works for the chinese...
it certainly doesn't work for us...
what critique is there?
hell... what sort of civil disobedience
can be borrowed from
the 20th century counter-culture?
civil... disobedience...
i walk around and see no
society to begin with...
how to stage a civil disobedience?

apathy and that very unfamiliar
theatre mask to market the docile: m'eh...
how once life was difficult
and people minded social quips,
norms and all that became stale jazz...
still all the more comfortable
living, comfortable dying...

to protest is to be shuffled...
i barely know whether speaking is the ultimate
freedom or whether it's thinking
with itchy fingertips...
perhaps my tongue could waggle
a bit... but then...

to be so apathetic implies that one is without
a pathology -
at least the pathological examples
wilt, then concentrate on their specific
venom bite... and write existential cameos
into the architecture...

perhaps apathy is more than being free
from a pathology -
perhaps its an incremental plethora of
all pathological statements -
perhaps apathy is a pathology in itself -
perhaps the wind blows from
the west to the east,
perhaps... perhaps...

to never believe what you read,
to never believe what you see,
to never believe what your hear,
to never believe what you say...
to have the sense: but to never believe them...
lucky the men who have enough
sense to be behind the engineering
of a bridge... or a tunnel...
since they rarely hear: doubt the sense...
instead they fathom:
forget to mind or unjumble
the spaghetti rubic cube of thought...
has anyone ever said:
to never believe what you think?

one of the two must be an illusion -
writing without conviction -
even if on some remote island
with a captivated audience -

no safety net - no conservative back-up...
no cushion but a brick to be put back
into a wall "safety"...
the romance of 20th century scout
rebellions...
what's there to rebel against?
i can't find anything...
i can't find anything when even
reading marquis de sade is considered tame...

the slaughterhouse of porn and...
perhaps i'd love to fuck someone
in the way that 1970s italian porn movies
were made...
i'm just too tired to have to
gag someone... or to have to invest
in leather and latex...
rye sex... when it's...
something that could be hushes in the act...
a silent movie...
and then return back to
some quack-existential interlude constipation
of "the grand revelation"
of two people taking tea while naked...
before the series of niqab revision
preludes took hold...
to have to cover and amp up
the discrete... to have to elevate certain
parts of the body: as disembodied erotica -

or perhaps the apathy comes
as a sedative -
watching my mother attempt to
stand up in pain while waiting
a hip-replacement...
you can first begin by wondering
whether you'd inflict pain
on an animal you were to pet,
rather, than an animal you were
about to eat...
animals you eat are not the sort
of animals you'd pet...
there's an anaesthetic for that...
it's called butchering the fucking
thing and making use from
almost all parts of it...
hence? i don't understand
the islamic critique of pigs...
the most economic model
for an animal...
you can pretty much eat anything
off of it... except for the oink
and the grunting slobber...
in times of apocalyptic food-shortages...
i'd love to see the muslims
ramadam their way through
starvation... when the pig was
the only meat available...

i have... i have to write from a perspective
of leisure sometimes,
i'm not convinced with what is being
written... i... DO NOT HAVE TO SHOUT
THIS FROM THE TOP OF THE ROOFS!
i can... whisper this to the rats in
the sewers...

over in new york they do eat pig ears...
i sometimes wonder...
what it would feel like
eating my nose...
apathetic, or just plain lazy...
none of these words are intended
with any seriousness...
it's a variation of anaesthesia
having to see someone suffer
from a rubbing-hip:
seeing someone stand up
with sandpaper joints...

and then... the reminders...
internet bullshit...
divide and conquer and:
no luck trying to find the old youtube
jukebox from... sigh...
4 years ago...

i'm not convinced of this writing...
i'd rather think about
making yeast dough for
a moroccan khobz bread
sprinkled with some sesame seeds...
i never will be...
high emotional investment
has entertained my mind for some time
(in the past)...
now? just diarrhoea spew...
i'll either shit out a niagara falls
or vomit one out in
a cascade of: anti-rhyme.

whatever i once wanted to believe in,
lasts for about a day...
perhaps one evening...
perhaps even less...
after that you just fall back
in line and start an "adventure of a lifetime"
crux-moment...
you break... into a jigsaw puzzle...
before your very eyes...
you only hit these crux moments
when you need to slow down...
no point competing with
a democratic pigeon party of
Trafalgar Sq.

the competitive nature can become
sickly sweet... fine in sports...
but when it's translated
outside of sports?
where the mind is involved?
that's not competition...
that's sadism...
two instances when a mind-body duality
exists: an engineer and a surgeon...

and how many instances are there
when the mind-body duality is given: slack...
and drifts into a dichotomy?
day-dreaming being the common
"symptom" of a dichotomy...
driving a car... while on the phone...
is that a mind-body duality?
more like a dichotomy...
the body in exoskeleton of a car...
the mind in a pickle jar...

no, absolutely no conviction...
none... i don't want there to be any...
i just don't want to sound as the next
button poetry entertainer...
exasperated...
with a repertoire of... 10 poems...
this drivel ought to suffice to gratify this...
sodden truth's worth of a night.