knew of, what was the Ultimate. A rule and law

fixed upon the lowest skies, fitting the clouds, with curses, and jibes.

That we were low amongst the lowest, there was no more thought that day, when we crashed. We all fell down.

The hate-man

remained, barked at own low lack in anything called life. He was my murderer among many

murders. He was so unattainable, with words, I was choking, the faun had supplanted us. It was

sick, bilge inducing, vomit, dead, empty rotten flesh, made inside thought. It, had thought, it

thought kill any low man upon the sea of the Ultimate. There was no Love, here, there never was

there never will be. We are the law, we kill the Ultimate. It was names of men I knew, all sodding

flesh men. All the eyes upon, me, made up my brand new thought. It sucked out my eyes, and

stirred in the forming of new ones, just so it could, slip in, fork me, bury me, and I sat patient, in

the thought of the Ultimate, as I lowest upon the low, I agreed, could no longer find him in the little

water upon the little cloud, rushing through, drains and sinking into mud. All my Ultimate, denied

me, as I fell upon the ground, and crashed in refusal, to care, or to move, or to fight, to roll upon

the floor, meek and unheard, my fell crashed down the Plan, I was forsake the forsaken, and the

first murder was against the mind of the crowd, of the fall, of the feared, and the gone, and the

gone, all the good that disappeared, and the dirty man sat upon the throne, all brought down, and a

higher scream flitted, unheard by the causes of the man, I was sure, of the politician, and of his

plan, I was sure he was just a day to day man, and had caught a big prize,

But he was writing a plan he formed to go forever, even if it was a bad, stupid form, at best bad,

worse

so I wondered about him, and how he rose to the platform, holding onto the same plan, blocks and

blocks, in a jigsaw pattern leading up to the platform. Being the main plan, all the same.

I wanted to know how, ------------the unheard of, and the main man, with his old plan, which was

one day to work and to work the next day, to grow upwards with that old plan, to work day by day

stuck in the plan that got monstrous as the plan got higher,

that contained the nation I wanted to own, but it was taken from me by the man who wanted to

have looked like he worked day by day

I asked him, "What did you want to go to??? Why did you work for this Plan, every single day,

lying to yourself and all of us, working honestly to keep to this strange damned plan, when me, I

would just abandon out of all my honesty. "

Why do I know working for that plan is ; madness. Madness in a suit.

To stick to it, to pretend. To kill in it.

The screaming shook nothing mortal, it shook nothing, all immortals were contained in the plan of

the One, all present prostrated and called upon the One. All of them accepted.

But we weren't going upwards, we weren't even moving.

All clean and removed and caring and deified, and all the men, again all the men, lied.

 I gave tears, or swords, but they were all clinging like rot to the doors.

I lost my sword, because the Ultimate said so to me. I lost my sword, I sent it to 

the lot, I sent it to

the budget fund, it was wrapped around tape, and lost inside paper-money basements, it was

auctioned for the lost and paid a damn heavy price. 

It was fallen the sword, I was evergreen mostly,

depressed and illuminated by first one process, that of the burning inner charms of molecular

clashes, where conversations were pitiful in the needy times of fear, talk is short and taxed on

illumination, to bring the common misery of reaction to common modem fixed heads, not minds,

of I say Hello, and I say low, I say Hell, we speak no, no we speak, we don't try to illuminate, we

like to speak the record straight, and all of those who lack, sought to bring down on us all, the real

type, the real live lack in everyday being. So, I slung the sword, depression got through first, its

atom crawl, spin, stuck jiving atoms, beaming brown particles the virus, struck stone, stuck disease

in quicker blood, that streamed round us like fire, so depression first and always. What I mean is,

depression affected everything, into me, for me , to me, but don't call it a catalyst, just a small

primitive ache of the mind, casting fires, really, not clouds, big fires against blind tales, and burst

atoms screaming through dimensions, all and overcome, and tired red forms, in crushing tape, cut

sellotape shapes, crunchy and dirtied, bleeding out the stick stuff, the connection weaker, rolling,

round and round, in fragment forms dirty sellotape, thick black tape, wrapped round my face and

head, pulling out sticky hair, fail

Could a woman only scream, or war?

She can not see. They said, burn the effigy. Shit covered men, all shit cover words. So mach word,

I've sunk down into burning sand. And I've hit shells at the doors, because hate monkeys batter

them down. All is gone. Only talk works, for thrills, and it works, because monkey have faces and

teeth, words are smarting, they are bigger than us, they said the Ultimate was old man who would

hurt me more, a disused car-park for disused souls. Dirty forms, fag burns..

Black burn will come, and black sword.

I made fell plays on her. And she brought kill bottles. 

The day she will give her  heart, when, I am her day, and she is;

The police door, how do I spell Hijacks on the door? With pencil knife. Hack at the door.

Im right in front of the police's door. I would do nothing until they give me the prison phone. How  could I have opened the door I would not have wanted it, how that Age kills visions, the computer age. 

excerpt

I BACK THE Out Lefties, think off Power.

I have my arm about her ;

in her battle, as in this chest;

I wall up the bed.  and cross-legged her nine as she praying bed of my does while I am them eyes 

 with air on tell a light and the her black more kick wooden i

excerpt maybe not trash

I got trampled, appearing over the wall, into a field. All the farms were padlocked at the chest, and the straw was burning under the sun, sizzling and cackling, feeding the sad horses, shivering and sweating under the loose light cctv fields, in burden of hot skin and fur, chained in, by the men who worship the sun, who turned them out to feed dully on burning grass, locked in cctv squares, never planned a right of way, or a right to remain, the way they remain, if it isn't much, they were grazing on burnt grass.

trash

Men who spend the day....a cow moon far away

TRASH

Radio;

Get up and doubt everything. Use discipline, when it comes to the things you see, you are right and they are lucky and blind..War goes on around us, and no-one knows. 

Use the weapons they have taken advantage of. Radio preferred to television. You can do so much more without TV.

=THE WAR+

excerpt in trash

Master Alcohol;  does It have convictions. It knows them, goes after but It doesnt have its own convictions, it counters them doesnt want them, unless they are in a human upsetting and loosely, it s better than hum

trash

He was funny he wandered unwell through stone. Would take the dead kitten to her.

The great nose of the lion taken, and great it was, and had been. He is a great century, and you, a pacifist.

She cut the light. This is the will, its away, will appear in every room, at home we wait.

==