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Equal and Opposite - November 2007

Balzac, Courbet and Joyce, Cezanne.

Balzac, dressing-gowned, moustache penner,
championed what I know not.
Whatever it was, it still is.
It was the same with Courbet.
Painter to the ordinary - no ordinary painter.
On a level footing the two find themselves.
They may not have found themselves.
They found themselves.
Only Art and Drama.
It can have been no other way.
No matter how you weigh,
it was a little curse and a blessing.
Joyce, James of course, stands
In trousers - no gown thanks.
Opposite Balzac his work sits.
Not what the words depict
But the words themselves.

Like Cezanne, it's not so much what
But how.
Like Balzac and Joyce,
So too Courbet and Cezanne.
It's a real boar - reality.
An absolute pig of a thing.
Hunting I love but love? I laugh to score.
It's not for everyone...
To care for things long since gone.
Necromance novellist.
Can't you see that you will be one day?
Gone like your wind.
I don't care that you don't care.
Before I turn to serious,
I'll leave in a cloud
Of my own ommissions.
Balzac and Joyce: opposite.
Balzac and Courbet: equal.
Courbet and Cezanne: opposite.
Cezanne and Joyce: equal.
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Frittered offering

If I was free to freely admit anything, I'd freely admit that I feel free to admit that admitting things freely is like free admittance: frequent. Like a man with a battered banana frittering away his life freely, I am a real pineapple. If I wasn't inclined to wax wearily with worn-out words, I'd get to the point and be perfectly blunt. To be perfectly is impossible. Being is all about becoming. To be absolutely frank, I love beans. If there's one thing that gets me hot around the pants it would have to be beans. In my line of work - and that's a lot of waiting - patrons either opt for frittering away there lives with pineapples or bananas. One or the other. Being as I am, I'd never look past something with a hole in it. You might say that offering up myself as bananas is my modus operandi. You don't have to keep your eyes peeled for my slip ups; I freely admit them. Banana or pineapple? you can't be both.



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Black and White: Australians

A while back, while wary blacks walked blithely, whites went wailing over wild waters to land in unclaimed land - the land the blacks wasted. Civilization is typified by green pastures and stock. Wordly men with warrant to wrangle with words drafted documents that saw the lowly blacks consigned to where they had been designed. It's lucky for us that now the benefits I have reaped from such an arrangement have yielded such a lot of bullshit. Without reservations, I can say that reservations where reserved for the unreservedly deserving. There's no doubt that black matters belong to whites and whites' matter matters more than blacks - it better. When the transmission was black and white the white mission was to transport blacks to heaven. The greatness of a white is how lacking in black it is. It's not a grey area that. It's not a grey area that we all share the experience of an epidermis. Whatever the case, black and white: equal.
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Rotting meat colour

If there's one thing that makes me see stars it has to be a telescope. Seeing stars is best done with your hands on a long instrument. Many's the day that I've just sat there with my hand on it. Heavens above, the heavens above are heavens above. The bodies of work left behind by shining stars is just so much tinkling. Above the stars nothing can be put. Up the stars on the other hand you can't put anything but themselves. But for themselves, stars would have nothing else to live for. To live for a star is a start. A start is just another kind of end. To end closer to the end than the start is another good one. Stars are just so worth reaching for. Even more than the bucket. Even more than the bucket, I like riding the porcelain public transport. Stars and "heavens above": tinkle.
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Whipper-snappers

If there's one thing I won't stand for it would have to be the elderly. I simply won't. I believe in the concepts inherent in an ideology based on equality for all. My arse is as bony as the next. I'd know. I love fondling the buttocks of the stranger beside me. If there's one thing I ask the elderly to stand for it would have to be me. They can suffer in their padded jocks, for all I care. The elderly these days just aren't what they were when I was young. When I was, I wasn't that different to how I is. We had to walk miles in the snow barefoot just to go barefoot snow-skiing. Old people, so named because they are really people under all those folds, are far from green but closer to green than not. If there's one thing that goes green faster than the green it has to be the elderly. Shuffling off is something they do every day. It's not too short-sighted to think that those whipper-snappers are a pain in the person next to you's arse. Put down your glasses; this one is over. Forget the perilous youths of today - I was ripped off at the op-shop. Old and young: age.
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Killing people is no longer fun.

I havent been around for a while. Ive been busy killing people. Bloggers mainly. Im tired of it all. I want the police to catch me. They dont realise that everyone I have killed has been a blogger yet. Bloggers are nobodies so they just dont get the link between all the murders. Its so easy to kill bloggers. They have all their details online. Its easy to find out where they live and just eliminate them. Noone is the wiser. Im sending a message to the police via Orble. If they take no notice of my intention to kill bloggers one by one, Ill post a U-Tube message. Even then I doubt theyll get it . Ill probably have to kill some of the people running blog sites like Orble. Think about this. You could be next.
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Just shut your eyes if you don't want to listen

I'm not going to just sit here without a chair. If there is one thing I won't take lying down it would have to be a nap. I always find it best if I'm wearing spectacles. There are just a plethora of pleasing plays performed professionally. I can't just sit here and watch without a chair and spectacles. Furniture for the arse and implements for the optics go hand in glove in arse. The arse is not something I'm going into at this sitting. I'd have to stand for that. I'm only an inhuman beast after all. Is said and done the same as articulated and acted? It's yet another prickly one you'd need tweezers and a microscope to safely remove. Much like my manhood. Many like my manhood. None more than me. If my chair could talk you probably wouldn't believe me. It's not beyond the realms of impossibilty: chair and specs: equal.
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Damn it

I'll be damned if I'm going to spend eternity in hell. I just won't have it. If I do then you'll never know I have. Unless you take the lift down too. Taking the lift down is no way to take a lift. Not that I've done anything bad enough to be judged worthy of a lifetime of a eternity in the afterlife's equivalent of the slammer. If I am damned, I'll be damned if I am. I'll be. Even when I cease to be, there's no doubt I'll be. Hell, if I am damned at least I won't have to endure a draft. They only sell lager. I'll be damned if I'm going to sit on a hot poker. If I sit on a hot poker I'll be damned. Well, I'll be. I am. This is yet another post worthy of this damn nation. It's right up there. Right up. It's a devil of a thing. Damn and salve: one is an ointment.

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What gets you down?

If there's one thing that really gets me down it's an elevator. Nothing makes my stomach sink like a lift. I often have that sinking feeling. If I ever need a little lift, I just press the buttons. Rather not take the stares of onlookers. It would be fair to say that everyone has a few flaws. Most structures do. It's nothing to get you down. It only takes a lift to get me down. It's not a put-down to say that luggage should be put down when taking the lift down. Nothing gets one into a downward spiral like lots of luggage. Like lots of luggage, suitcases suit most cases. In case you have forgotten, every structure has at least one floor. It's not unusual for the floor to be right under our feet. Don't be fooled by the soft fabric covering many floors. Don't let that get you down. Take the lift. You'll feel yourself falling. Lift and lower: opposite.
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What is it? you count-face.

If there's one thing in this world that counts it has to be a calculator. There aren't many things that count as much. What counts just has to add up. What doesn't can simply be out of batteries. Nothing fixes something like a good battering. Others things that count include fingers and toes. I'd be a different person without my own complete set of those. I could count on one hand the number of fingers and toes I've lost over the years. They really count a lot. I've lost count of the the things that count. Still, you can count on something to count anything. One thing that doesn't count is sheep. They just don't count. If they could, they might realise that they are next. Knowing you're next is the last thing you could ever want - except when you do. Accept when you are. Resist. If you discount what I've said you'll be better off. It's not unfair to say that. Count and discount: opposite.
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Whore and new

From all reports, reports are really relevant. Really reliable, they are rarely renounced by rousing racontuers or roving refuse-riflers. It's just eye-boggling how some spectacles are framed. Not that I'd ever complain, but sometimes the news-of-the day - no matter what - is just a little inexorable for my individual inclination. Then again, what is old - for me - is just as present as a box with a pink ribbon and a rattling sound. Rattling boxes are a highly rated resource. There's just no escaping the present. It's in the past that any sort of freedom is found. It's in the past that I even cared what colour petticoat I wiped my face-britches on. Face the farks. The here and now are just a couple of death's agents. You never hear them come knocking because they always are. Wipe their feet on your eye-moustache. The there and then is where it's at. But then again, not. So, now as you see me riding off into the sun sidesaddle, you can give full rein to your disinterest in chewing anything thatt might stain your enamelled-calcium-stalagtites. Spare a thought for me as I burn for a packet of crisps. Here and now: equal.
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A and B

You look like an absent-minded woman with funny glasses.
I thank you.
We walk a while before something happens. Something dramatic.

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