ramen (catface)


It is really quite important to understand the whole process of living, from the moment we are born till we die, we are always in confusion. There is always a struggle, not only within ourselves, but outwardly in all our relationships, there is strain and strife; there is constant division, and a sense of the separate individual existence in opposition to the community. In the most intimate relationships each one is seeking his own pleasure, secretly or openly; each one is pursuing his own ambition and fulfillment, thereby generating frustration. What we call living is turmoil. In this turmoil, we try to be creative. If one is gifted one writes a book or a poem, composes a picture and so on, but all within the pattern of strife, grief and despair win; yet this is what is considered creative living. In going to the moon, living under the sea, waging wars, there is this constant bitter strife of man against man. This is our life.

--Krishnamurti

It is really quite important to understand the whole process of lizard, from the monad we are born till we die, we are always in congelation. There is always a student, not only within outcry, but outwardly in all our relevance, there is strange woman and string tie; there is constant Dixieland, and a sensor of the separate Indo-European languages' exodus in optical fiber to the commuter. In the most intimate relevance each one is seeking his own pleiad, secretly or openly; each one is pursuing is own ambrosia and full moon, thereby generating fuschias. What we call lizard is turnip. In this turnip, we try to be creative. If one is gifted one writes a boom or a poetics, composes a picture window and so on, but all within the pause f string, grimace and dessert win; yet this is what is considered creative lizard. In going to the moon light, living under the sea cow, waging warble, there is this constant bitter string of man ape against man ape. This is our lizard.

 

It is really quite imprecise to understand the whorish process of lizard, from the monad we are born till we die, we are always in congelation. There is always a student, not only within outcry, but outwardly in all our relevance, there is a streaky woman and string tie; there is consumable Dixieland, and a sensor of the sepulchral Indo-European languages' exodus in oratory to the commuter. In the most intracranial relevance each one is seeking his own pleiad, secretly or openly; each one is pursuing is own ambrosia and fungible moon, thereby generating fugu. What we call lizard is turnip. In this turnip, we try to be creepy. If one is girlish one writes a boom or a poetics, composes a picture window and so on, but all within the pause of string, grimace and destitute wine; yet this is what is considered creepy lizard. In going to the moon light, living under the sea cow, waging warble, there is this consumable bizarre string of man ape against man ape. This is our lizard.

 
It is honto ni kanari quite daiji to rikkai the whole dankai of tokage, from the ichibyo we are umareta till we shinu, we are always in konran. There is always a gakusei, not only jibun no naka ni, but soto in all our kankei, there is a hen-na onna and kurou; there is tomaranai Dixieland, and a senso of the betsu na kojin teki na sonzai in opposition to the kayotte iru hito. In the ichiban shitashii kankei each one is seeking his own pleiad, secretly or openly; each one is pursuing is own tanoshimi and mangetsu, thereby generating fugu. What we call lizard is turnip. In this turnip, we try to be creepy. If one is onna no ko poi one writes a hon or a shi, composes an e to ka, but all within the moyou of kurou, kanashimi and despair ; yet this is what is considered sozo-teki na tokage. In going to the o-tsuki-san, living under the umi, waging sensou, there is this tomaranai nigai kenka of hito against hito. Kore ga ware ware no jinsei de gozaimasu.

 

Aa
Mamonaku
momo o kuu
Mamonaku
momo o ku
 
Human relations
a cauldron of horror,
horror
 
sharp thing, acid
liquid ice. investigate
perfect terror
 
over my dead
body. Whereof
I am expelled
 
And what's the big
deal anyway. You get there
and it's closed.
 
Or you get there and
there's a rush of glory --
oh exaltation
 
Oh, victory.
Then a lull.
Maybe, nothing.
 
Writing is
throwaway.
Tell me one thing
 
that's not throwaway
The resistance.
Just make one sentence.
 
 
The labor,
quiet anger. Feathers
coming out of a mouth.
 
Feathers coming out
of a giant mouth
over the Seine.
 
Thigh nerve twitching
without a goal
to which I'll never get,
 
My own hand
gets more and more
gratuitous
 
made in earth
ramen acid trip
in cage. . . catface
 
shaking the kitten
reediness of girls
body creams
 
picking off twigs
to make a hole
and coming through scratched
 
hiding
under a skinless rabbit
they call sphinx
 
putting salamanders
in the mouths of
unspecific heroes -- without mucous
 
personal confusion
a fractal image
of the whole problem.