BETWEEN- fragments on perennial interims...

of sports and games
became obvious when we never chose sides

thus we avoided intrusive psychological training
getting sucked into complicity,
false words of bravado,
not getting habituated to artificial victories

sport events were like floods and weather unruly groupings
and took on a strange seriousness as if religion found new roles
to frame the body as its latest weapon

yet minding our distance created new types of enemies,
provoked a not so harmless politics against friends

Posted by Andreas at 02:05 PM | Permalink

raising it into existence,
enabling objectivity's veil:
the ultimate cover
to fend off labels and unknown boomerangs

a positioning between lies and truth
as if usurping and claiming some unencumbered 'reality'

a preserve
a phantasmatic stance
against the other: the unknown ever metamorphosing boomerang

Posted by Andreas at 01:09 PM | Permalink

knowledge is an intrusion

each new word a conqueror
and the whole field of words
to narrow you in
to create an ideological horizon - one two three longing for more words

culture trapped in language; is English reaching the end?

is it good to meet people who cannot read,
who were not conquered,
who were forced into parroting of language
by subtle cues

Posted by Andreas at 07:13 PM | Permalink

sinks the other culture's ships

turning language into sediment,
history's end a convoluted series of nomadic events

trust language as if lies rich in words are not made from language

trust bodies as if pantomimes are not made to fool

religions remain history's tectonics as if language is not complicit

--------

cry as if pity is still around

make money as if exchange feels good

copulate as if to obey the law

smile as if to be sincere

the crying face that turns into a smile
learns to turn smiles into tears-
from the singular to the plural of humanity

Posted by Andreas at 06:43 PM | Permalink

each word
a construct for an education,

but remember the boy's voice
the singing of his sentence
his echoes so much pleased our ears
whereever his voice found a home

then his whispers that raised and raised our ears,
his voice brought him always closer
his voice was much better than words can ever do

not remembering the words he spoke
not his voice that trembled

probably his breath and more
turned his absence into what now feels like absence felt

Posted by Andreas at 06:07 PM | Permalink

that re-forms the world's shape
is not an imitation of any language
nor within language's image

but hidden in a void - that searching speechlessness
that conquers like a fatal distance
between generations of the still alive
yet already dead to each other

Posted by Andreas at 05:57 PM | Permalink

expires,
meaning evaporating

words are not exchanged
to reach for some same wavelength

glances are no longer made to make us speak
and circulate saliva

it's all the all destructive gaze
that catches you as a fantastic object

even Seneca became an object to be removed
from Nero's eyes

thus, isn't all wisdom a feast of language
reduced to adjudicated lust

that all brutes deny
while feasting on moral's flesh
that relies entirely on force

heard only by the loudness of their voice
their whispers that destroy your kindness !

Posted by Andreas at 05:36 PM | Permalink

always within itself
may return to fictions entirely
if you add up beliefs sufficiently

and then
a discovered fossil called reason
may yet be redeciphered from its sediments

Posted by Andreas at 03:05 PM | Permalink

creates formulas
quantifying distance,

catalysts of estrangement
lest words get too close

to unmake
who's inside law's fiction
qualifying subjects

Posted by Andreas at 02:35 PM | Permalink

each within an enclosure
not of language
but a hobbling from event to event

no logic contained by grammar,
all cause as if made to fit subsequent

Posted by Andreas at 02:21 PM | Permalink

and ears wide open
may yet reveal the fictions
that harden into the steel of gaze

Posted by Andreas at 02:14 PM | Permalink

or passing by
or mind out of sight,
their behaviour functions
to realize culture as theological politics

lifelessness, a mark of enjoyment

the endless whisper within their circle
that must shut out the other's word

not pleasure but enjoyment
from within rituals of obedience

no further qualities;
they live abstractions taken from each other
as if each one was already always the same

Posted by Andreas at 08:32 PM | Permalink

didn't we take our books along
to read sentences to each other?

to let our voices touch their surfaces,
then to dive deeper into those sentences,
discover each other word for word?

and chased all feelings in our voices
to their inexhaustible end
by transforming ourselves
into the name of our best friend?

Posted by Andreas at 11:48 PM | Permalink

"I devour alternately a page and a morsel.
It seem as if my book were dining with me."
- J.J. Rousseau (1712-1788)

Posted by Andreas at 11:30 PM | Permalink