Notes: "perplexity of nations"

X is to x squared is to x cubed as 
WW1 to WW2 to WW
3 as League of Nations is to  U.N.
is to WorldGov’s a scenario much
in one’s crosshairs, like one’s gray hairs or one’s earlocks
or the physiology of sex as

necessarily relates to Soul. For
in our mount we’re different lamp, unwelcome. 
“As “a great door and effectual opened” up,
so many adversaries in one’s mount, 
about, a bit like sour bunting bones
and dizzy flies, and then there’s falling down

among skyscrapers,skies, stock market floors
a blinded horse to keep one busy bee 
below. Among the beelines for baloney 
we don’t juggle three but mesazoic,
power bills, balls, “dead men’s bones”, bots, bother,
faces, tones. We juggle 1 bajillion,

often without mercy; even though it’s
mass society & we should have compassion
on accelerating jugglers; much as 
we accelerate ourselves, expanding
universes twining in us. Great apes
desperately encumber crumbling twilight.

Sometimes 12 balls. Sometimes 47!
Oops it happens. Something blows the breaker.
Billionaire: a plausible deniability 
autonomous appurtenance, like North Korea.
Anymore, these proxies tangle like extension cords.
Word is, among dystopians: transmitters

broadcast model citizen John Jacob Everyman
to everybody! smart dust searchable: fantastic
paranoia! but remote-controlling roaches was
sufficient leaven. So we got the loaf we cooked up 
in the burning labyrinth, well done! As robots race
against our exoskeletons, we hedge our bets. We 

talk of blockchain, debt apocalypse, apocalypse in
general, & the physiology of sexual acts,
aware that a distractobot might well at any time
dilute communication with mere questionnaire. But one
digresses. Now, where was one? ‘Physiology of Sex,
Relation to Religiosity of Same’: some have 

a married face as though one flesh. One wonders if it’s wrong
for instance to take tissue samples, with consent of course.
Here, have a look. Just LOOK how similar those lovebirds look.
Perhaps one can just know it as a player throws a ball –
without equations – but would lose these iterated opportunities
to witness to fissiparous modernities of Him.

If 'Don Juan’ Then the Prussic acid (tetrameter)

Byron was right to be annoyed 
at Shelley’s choice of “Ariel”:
 which sank in seething sea. “How long
do you intend to be content”
his doppelgänger said to him
along the terrace, terrified him!
among centuries. Was given
“Skylark”! Shelley’s way of thanking
God was… (Well, “Life” didn’t “Triumph”.)
Nietzsche wrote <<The antiChrist>>
& then baa ztt! insane. The brain
may be a blasted fig tree or
an emperor grazing grass, a grim
end/interlude continuum. So,
if you have a speck of talent,
be afraid! Perhaps you won’t be
torn apart, Abdul Alhazred
in the marketplace, a horse of
course of course, a blasted weeping
or Nebuchadnezzar the King!

The Reality of the Oligarchs

The Hypostasis of the Oligarchs
is interlocking, like tectonic plates,
such as the mob’s deal with the FBI
in WW2, among our many streets
above us in concentric traceries:
Atlantis, City of the Locks & Rings.
The Hypostasis of the Oligarchs
binds its expression in antithesis --
ants clamoring for their inheritance
in the twilight, in the musk of night’s sight --
and elections are her hurricanes and 
between this foolishness the Parties part
their parts: the whole tamale’s shimmering
shebang. One cannot see the spider for 
the web; the failing eyes of proud men do
not see the garden for its hedgerows. For
our sight is failing in the labyrinth
in sight of crumbling castles at low tide. 
We’re crumbling at low tide together now
as bitterness gives way to enemies.
The Hypostasis of the Archons
is a mixing pot of paint; and in a 
petri dish it pullulates, beyond us
yonder, ineluctable. Five hundred
page encomiums to statecraft add up
to an iterative governance not taught
in civics courses; where one is not taught
about the Law of Conservation of the Ruled. 
The Hypostasis of the Oligarchs
is Apparatchiks, Fat Cats, Princelings, Cent Familles,
what have you. Very little, likely. Long 
before we dreamt of freedom at our desks,
before us, merciless & mad
it woke us where it wanted us; & we
were seldom able to insert an act
in edgewise. Freedom: cotton pickers hand
out happy meals to hands from minivans
emerging, urging on the powerful
like bathtub rings. “…the more they stay the same”
A bathtub ring is real! It has a heft of sorts.
But informed citizens are leprechauns,
and I am sick! of informed leprechauns.
And informed leprechauns are sick of me.

“…arsenal” (The Sun) -- Then, Insurrection of the Moon?”

'Calexit is to Aztlan as a peel is to its fruit'
puts one in mind of 1947 in Punjab.
News from the Grecian, Spanish, & Italian fronts is grim.
It’s happening in Vladivostok, happening in Minsk,
in Moskva, everything just happens happily;
but chargers dangle from the walls like shrunken heads.
Dendritic balance in equilibration 
rises in the foreground. In the background:
ageing demographics -->  baby factories or migration --
States’ reconstitution & recalibration,
like King Midas but with diasporas:
Palestinians, Armenians, Marwari, Afrikaners, Everybody
Everywhere Los Angeles-Manhattan
mirrored: thesis synthesis antithesis: Alt-Right/Identitarians 
+ Red Guards = centre-junta? “hammer of the whole world”?
Barcelona Declaration -- Coudenhove-Kalergi --
Barbara Lerner Spectre “over Europe” Sharia Patrols –
birth rate declining in Islamic heartland, globally --
Nordrhein-Westfalen cache (The Guardian) –
not deportation nono but totalitarian
centralisation YES! YES! YES! “ten thousand weapon 
arsenal” (The Sun) -- Then, Insurrection of the Moon?
is rain drops not yet hail stones inasmuch 
as Schengen Movement ends: internal passport system like 
a classified directory of home lines 
bends, trucks ramming into last men, fire doors
slam… thus water torture then the typhoon
till entangled, torn hearts, hear hope herein
left out of their blueprints & their speadsheets
hunkered, tangled in a tingling near year
Bracque violin of murmur amid clamor
clamber limber up the modelling rejected 
of the Builders of the Temporary
Tower’s teetering like elephants in 
The Temptation of Saint Anthony in
suites of swipe & swoop without disease.
Without, disease & want. Went out among 
our poverties; some poverties within 
our server bay organics, some without.
Why even let them in one’s server bay? 
East Asia doesn’t. Hermits don’t. So why?? 

Birds will be birds in branches of Yggdrasil.

Give me an A! CLAP CLAP Apokatastasis

Two men will be coding at the cubicle.
The one will call The Storm on all the world
a perfect storm Thank Friday that it’s Friday Ha!
The other one will say away a ways off in dense day
this Tribulation period  Grande Tribulation Velikaya Skorb
This storm Give me an A! CLAP CLAP Apokatastasis
of demographic skewing, geometric automation, 
crumbling infrastructure, exponential debt,
both Sun and Moon’s obeisance & that of the eleven stars
food shortage, water shortage, precious metals shortage
“they shall go no more out of the temple”
cancerous contamination of groundwater, air, seawater,
“and the Lamb shall be the light thereof” 
(Sun Moon 11 Stars of Heaven bowing)
is upon technocracy

Esquisse Exophonique

Cette brume s’entoure autour de nous.

Je sens tissus lointains.

Ces temps tumultueux s'accélèrent.

L’ouragan brumeux de tout changement s'accélère

et je sens tissus lointains.

Le Camp des Saints arrivent  en caravanserai,

la politique génétique, Babylone en spirale.
Parmi l’ouragan brumeux de tout changement

je sens tissus lointains

intemporels s’épanouirent, resplendissants.

It's a seedling factory, not a fun house!

There’s a backdoor in your mind
worth more than any cozy sugar cube.
Dendritic overlays of best fit shoots
don’t have shortcomings of AI or men;
would undermine this Planet of the Apes with victory.
He that clothes Himself with timelessness as
with a garment primed that backdoor in you
as a jeweller sets a stone. If you were
in a seedling factory, what might you do differently
among sneer-snarls, bulge-buzzard eyes, steep stares?
among men’s unmanned mannequins? not wearing clothes?

Autumn Mosaic (rolling stresses)

Great Power condemnation
of Imperial Japan’s
invasion of Manchuria or Manchukuo
Now, coiled weeks spring in autumn
“Yes we have no bananas”
1949 1st Lightning Superpowers
1989 The Berlin Wall falls

Solar panels crumble underfoot

Sole-superpower period
Great Britain joins the
Asian International Investment Bank.
This triptych-- 3 Great Powers, Russia China & America --
rotates around a block of stumbling
as near Sol rotates around in Uncreated Light.
Flies of the marketplace buzz round one.

“Light ariseth in the darkness”

“Are you meditating?” Flies alight on contemplation
as on rotting meat, buzz sharply
“What did you just do?”
& sniff in disapproval at the hopeless help these days.
Buzzing coagulates in "How Are You Fine" clots
of dream home & retirement plan.
These are the drying templates known as sanity.

“All of my springs are in Thee”,  l'Éternel des Galaxies

No higher definition can exist

without the intervention of that Uncreated Light.

A covert psychopath seems very "well-adjusted to a sick society" 
to fallen stoats in waistcoats Game of Twister ‘ever after’ pigs in wigs.

Fastidiously cornerstoneless templates will not understand.

For how will people made of fairy gold dream dreams?

thus dream dream mansions? understand then new men

Onan as the converse of Elisha

in the first place? Old boys squee at one another
in the valley of the shadow then go down in flames.
They idolize retirement in the valley. Unsuccessfully.
Sometimes the melting masques slip & the other species
that inhabit Homo ecosystem peek out of the valley
too intently. Then I see a sculpture of behaviors,
interactions, plumbing, wiring -- suddenly holography

It says 'I shaved'

& horizontal interlocking.  Ticking tocking ticktock ticking
coiled weeks spring in autumn.
I open up my model of the Earth
and as so often lately, find myself
above the comma curling continent,
home of shrill shrinking Venezuelans
& wonder if the east of South America

I say "I groomed the horse"

will Balkanize… Regime change suddenly. GONG CHONG
My mind’s eye flicks to Rapanui car door slams
flicks over to Peru & Chile then primordial primeval “… not in service…”
back aback in time to Chachapoyas, Viracochas, beep! beep! beep! beep!
spiraling to life! I AM ALIVE honk! honk!
within disintegrating matter. I’m HOOOOOOOONK
modelling imperfect storm in all directions. CHGONG GCHONG

Saying 42: "Be passerby"

Verse notes on the Metcalf sniper shootings of 2013

spiked trees
Radical environmentalism’s 
"Roadblock. Let me do the talking"
lodge's conflagration
monkey wrenchers’ caused 115 
Earth First!
million dollars’ damage in 3 decades 
“Do you have a petrol permit…”
vs 15 million dollars’ sniper
“…for that minivan you’re driving?”
damage from the Metcalf shootings 
“No! I mean, I own it” --
(which transpired across about an hour).
“Mother & her children 
own that minivan, you waster!"
Infrastructure in a crumbling state is
“So, you’re saying” he continued
“But I, no I…!” -- “Quiet, waster while I!”
more significant than infrastructure
“that you are not classified to drive this…”
in a building state; the Luddites of the
“…limited supply of petrol..."
upward slope or peak are not those of the
[Petrol Use & Classifying Edict:*
twilight. Neither are the Nihilists, the 
Ambulances, Combine Harvesters & Vigilantes]
“hereby execute the sentence”
Nazis, the Anarcho-Communists… For 
BANG BANG*
coefficients between debt & crumbling
BANG BANG 
infrastructure spot technocracy with crosshairs.
BANG BANG BANG.

*Note that this deliberately represents the possible consequences of a decline in Energy Return on Investment real or artificial in the specific form of unpopular decrees, Edicts of Diocletian for a complex hydrocarbon age.
**The interwoven bangs are almost certainly a deliberate allusion to Rammstein's song "Fire at Will", so one cites this now without quite recalling whether it was so intended or an instance of cryptomnesia.

What Would Mars Do?

Mars Prince of War invaded Russia twice

because it is Mars Prince of War; that is,

considerations of logistics &

supply -- & even victory! -- don’t exist

for it. The need for War, a nice long war,

is all that matters to Mars Prince of War.

Shanghai Cooperation Council -- Dong

Feng missiles -- Antimissile installations

on the NATO border with the Russian

Federation -- Wikipedia: “...war

spending doubled economic growth rates”

(from the WW2 sub-article of

“Great Depression”) -- What Would Mars Do? Harvest

us; impose our carrying capacity;

interpose Itself between The Debtor

& The Creditor; kill umpteen million;

shovel all those mass men into mass graves;

insource factories; skim those excess males off

India & China; keep the helot

population down; veil drifting kaos

in earnest, greasy clouds of fog of War.