Application for Obedience



Asemic Tarot 35- the cervical toad

To the cervical toad,

the dance is just a begrudging ceremony:

The group, a malformed malapropism

in rheumy eyes –

like cymbals crashing against

the victims of image-Loading~Enabled=b^.


Sleep box at da valentina;

an oblong diversion of forgotten phantoms,

just piecrust in a tin can waiting for

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Seventh vertebra full gold process in

c,d = dogs+Ta++;G[d] = b;b8q.

Of those sleeping smiling sloths,

there is no fracture

that sings in these dim halls of regret.


Seventh vertebra full gold process in

c,d= dogs+Ta++;G[d]=b;b.

Of that face of sleep,

there is no fracture

that sings in these dim halls of regret.


I stop before diouf Error 0xc1900204a,

from the month of mouth woods;

Recovering that syrup of uncertainty

falling from branches

filled with dry dead bird nests,

often the soul keeps miles

wrapped around twisted poesy.


Of the regime, blistering with anxious wheedling offers & demands, it was said,

Damningly, the performance was described as an historic shipwreck – in which the clueless cubes’ worst nightmares had come true.”


hieroglyphs for a new age socialist capitalism

Come buy hieroglyphs for a new age socialist capitalism –

Here are glyphs,

there are glyphs,

everywhere ya’ go are glyphs.


a nut with



above us….

(remember, I

warned you there is


in the dancing machinery,

as night fractures the fetters of my neighbour’s dreams –



rain on the heavy traffic –

I was full of ink & memories

& crazy

& hats floated over public beards like billboard clouds”

– the buses are burning them,

once again with platitudes of consumerism dressed up as social activists marching for the children of the night/here they howl for Freedom & the Latest Authentic Sexy Deodorant)

– not just brazen jackdaws, as in them were icicles of care & despair

– once the clock died of boredom,…. the seconds have not

slept well… neither have I ……




I don’t believe,

me too!


Last night my



hands in tatters,

their torsos of lighting sang of whales near the coast of Dalarnja; we all follow them & sail away to the shores of Graustark &



my neighbourhood,

a godforsaken pannier of tears & teacups,

is modulated by seagulls & cats

clinging to advertisements –


You Too Can have New Friends & A Perfect Face !!

Even in the Drizzle of Grey Mourning !

Now Improved with Extra Vitamins & Megabytes !

– and makes me stop & stare at

my neighbour,

wasted basking nets


– and makes me flop over my n’nàbaidh’s worn out footsteps putting out the garbage & the recycling,

hoping climate change won’t crack open the chasm of Xenophobia & Leagenphobia ,

raking up the shadows – constructed offal,

lies & one time offers,

as crackling theorems ignite,

divulge burning forests in the shape of cultural change & ocean currents …..

once – not ravens or seers,

as in hailstones,

there are many unsafe….


and in the rain,

covered in scabs,

like hieroglyphs on yesterday’s skin,

the neighbourhood is full of

refugees from angry tweets,

commercials & pullout ads.


Note: Taking inspiration from Nia’s post  Cloudy Morning

& using the Text Mixer tool I composed the Dadaist meditation on cultural observations.