I try to write / squeaking lemons

I try and write something
once a day – it feels like a compulsion – something that I have to do
– 5 minutes, 10 an hour? – the time is irrelevant –
it’s the act that’s important

the act
of getting the words out and down
a selfish act, it is.

after a day in an office
ground down
trajectory following arbitrary figures
targets that are meaningless.

we do not save life’s.
we do not create.
we add no value.
it has no worth
other than
numbers on a spreadsheet.

the weather is always outside while I’m inside chained to a desk

Jesus H…
..the letters are wearing out on my keyboard – overworked- graphs and tables paperwork deadlines as a guillotine.

The threat of…

…we are not even treated like machines – more like lemons – squeezed till the pips squeak

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20 comments

  1. Trent Lewin

    Yes. I feel that too. A dehumanizing grinding of my fingers first, then into my arms and elbows, ankles and legs, working its way up to my brain until I’m colder than the computer. What a strange strange life. If I didn’t write, I’d shrivel up and turn into a steel bar.

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I have typed till my arms end at knuckles – my computer emits warm air – sounds like a helicopter preparing for takeoff – colourful pie charts – “you like writing” they say – “write the end of quarter report” they say – I can’t write stale prose – %s and growth tangents – slowly
      I
      die
      a little
      ad the weather mocks me through the windows of this reverse greenhouse

      Like

      • Trent Lewin

        You can
        Tear my face away
        Because there are not enough copies
        Made
        Or reports counter-signed
        By idiots sitting on
        Chairs made of fraud bones
        And Ulysses’ ringtones
        Because that is where
        I crumble and fall and bury
        Dreams I had and still do I think
        But they are pale and I am weakening
        Under the weight of numbers and letters
        Tied together by business arrangements
        And scientific facts

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  2. multiplemichael

    woe to him who does not disport himself into his language
    taking comfort in its consonants and vowels and muteness
    silence is hardly expressible
    silence is now “empty”
    poetry implies the condition of once having been full
    or at least once having contained something
    free of dilemma I hold the hand of Emily
    a sportive girl in silence

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  3. multiplemichael

    THE OLDEST FISH SWIMMING IN THE SEPTIC TANK
    WORDS ARE THE BITTER SEDIMENT THE BROWN SILT
    STRANGLED VOICES AND FEELINGS FROM THE COMMODE
    GEOLOGICAL GIFTS THAT DON’T READILY YIELD UP THEIR MEANING
    WHAT CAN ONE SAY ABOUT THE CRUST OF FAMILIARITY ?
    PUMMEL AND RECONSTITUTE GRAMMER
    COMBINE AND RECOMBINE
    PECULIAR LETTERS
    LINGUISTICALLY COMPOUNDED
    POEMS COLLECTED BECOME MUSEUMS
    PURGATORY AGONIES IN CLOSETS
    TURN OUT THE LIGHTS AND DIG COAL

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      THE OLDEST FISH…..WITNESS TO THE MOCKING OF THE TRUE AXIS
      REMINISCENCES PURCHASED AT THE DOLLAR STORE
      HELLO KITTY PUSH PINS NEXT TO DAYGLOW CHRIST ON A STICK
      GRUESOME DETAILS TO THE FULL CYCLE OF THE CROTCH
      HUMILIATION…..TORMENTORS (FOOTSOLDIERS)
      …… COUNTLESS FORMATIVE MINUTES
      …… WHEN WILL THE INCHES COME ?

      Like

  4. multiplemichael

    TURN OUT THE LIGHTS AND DIG COAL
    AN OLD SODOMITE WORKSONG
    from modern depth…..penetrating understanding
    TRAUMATIZED BY HARD LABOR
    OVARIES AND TESTICLES IN A MOPBUCKET
    ARE YOU GOING TO GROW BACK TO YOUR OLD SELF ?
    YOU CRY THROUGH THE DAY IN AN INFANTILE WAY
    LOGIC AND REDUCTIONIST THINKING WILL NOT HELP YOU
    SIMPLICITIES ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS
    JUST IGNORE THE IMPORTANT THINGS
    PERSONAL AND PLANETARY
    INNER RESENTMENTS………..BY THE TRUCKLOAD
    WHAT A PATTERN OF CREATING GRIEF
    A SHOTGUN BLAST PATTERN

    Like

      • eatmorewords

        surrounded by heroin shufflers the bus is not prejudice – the fall block out the sound -angry words violently spat – slippery claw – I smell burning – drunk child tries to spin me a yarn – way past bed time (cymbal crash) –
        the mind straddles the borders of necessity – encyclopaedic knowledge of nothing in particular – twilight is faint
        gaunt
        just waiting for tomorrow

        we all need hands

        Like

  5. multiplemichael

    OVARIES AND TESTICLES IN A MOPBUCKET
    NEVER GOING TO GROW BACK INTO MY OLD SELF
    INNER CONFLICTS DOUBTS HESITATIONS
    PUZZLE PIECES IN THE WRONG BOX
    INNER FUR AND THE THREAT OF SODOMITES
    WHAT’S IT LIKE TO GET ONE UP THE BLIND EYE ?

    Like

  6. multiplemichael

    INSCRIBED HERE ON THE WEB THROUGH THE IMAGERY
    OF OVARIES AND TESTICLES IN A MOPBUCKET
    INSTRUMENTS THAT IRRITATE AND NOT SOOTHE
    BLACK-ELOQUENT SILENCE IN THE BEDROOM
    SAFE TO BE UNARMED…..WELCOME SLEEP

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      mopbuckets testicles was the name of the band he was in – they were never signed – 35minute drone metal – songs about Yoko – reinterpretation of Emily’s finest works –
      songs with no lyrics (is just music)
      just wailing static –

      she was in the front row –
      offered to show him her insides
      he traded instruments for subtle beatings – non bloodletting –
      some bruises
      all photographed (in one picture you can see the ghost of the Curie house)

      he never knew the safe word

      Like

  7. multiplemichael

    FOR LEGAL REASONS I CAN’T BE WILLY-NILLY ABOUT THE CURIE HOUSE
    I WOULD GUESS THAT THE GHOST OF THE CURIE HOUSE IS TABOO ALSO
    THAT POOR WOMAN WAS A SCRIBBLING LUNATIC
    MANY OF HER WORDS WERE UNWORKABLE
    CRITICS SAY THAT THEY WERE “BORROWED”
    PURELY CREATIVE…..A HIGHLY STRUNG PASSIONATE WOMAN
    SHE CALLED HERSELF A DWELLER OF THE EARTH
    IT WAS PROBABLY THE BRAIN TUMOR TALKING

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the dimensions of the house demand serious investigation – the rooms are bigger on the out side than on the inside –
      there is a corridor that takes 5 minutes to walk through – radiation stains curtains – formulas on floorboards – lunatic scribbles bleeding nails down to the nub –

      formaldehyde jars of broken spine manuscripts – jars of tumours
      and when you walk through the doors, the incessant buzz of flies

      oh yes, she was not of this realm

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  8. multiplemichael

    TRUE STORY:
    AT WORK, I TOLD AN ELEVATOR MUSIC TECH THAT THEIR MACHINE WAS PRODUCING ELEVATOR MUSIC BACKWARDS……..HE WORKED FOR 45 MINUTES ON THE GIANT MACHINE AND THEN REPORTED TO ME THAT IT WAS REPAIRED AND WORKING FINE.

    Like

  9. multiplemichael

    FACTS ARE COLLECTED AS EVIDENCE………..THE REALM OF ACTUAL REALITY
    INFANTILE ELEVATOR MUSIC………JOHN AND PAUL ELEVATOR MUSIC
    MUSIC ENDOWED WITH MAGICAL POWERS……..UNKNOWN PERILS
    DEEP INSIGHT………INTROVERT MENTIONS TRUE STORY AT WORK
    A GIANT ELEVATOR MUSIC MACHINE, WHAT DOES THAT SUGGEST ?
    BECAUSE THE ELEMENTAL FORCES OF THE MACHINE ARE SO DANGEROUS
    THE TECH HAS TO WEAR A LEAD APRON
    MARIE HAD AN OLDER VERSION OF THE MACHINE
    MISTER P., “THANK GOD WE DON’T HAVE TWO OF THOSE DAMN THINGS”

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  10. multiplemichael

    PAN FLUTE ELEVATOR MUSIC : THE UNWANTED IN THE UNWANTED
    THE RAW MATERIAL OF PAN FLUTES……….ANY SURVIVORS ?
    VICTIMIZED BY THE UNLEASHING OF POOP-EATERS
    SUBATOMIC PARTICLES LEAK ……FOREKNOWLEDGE IS HELL

    Like

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