I remember the awe and wonder
when Surtsey arose
from the deep blue yonder, 
amongst the Vestmannaeyjar
off the Icelandic coast.
I even bought (or stole) a book
of chronological photographs.
![]()  | 
| Surtsey erupting from the sea-bed. | 
![]()  | 
| Surtsey now. | 
Lemon Blueberry Oat Boosts
(always remember to read the packet)
| 
   
  | 
 
fools who want
to live forever
(maybe on the moon)
will harbour
in their blood and guts
and brains
more and more dementifying
microplastic
unless somehow
in their perverse ardour
they (pretty soon)
take steps and pains 
to make themselves immune
and able to trip eternal light fantastic.
The nearest that kooky
Cocacolons can get to the numinous :
 'spooky'.
Ghost-turnips,-pucas,-fortune-telling-and-evil...>
'Indigenous' peoples,
whether in Australia or North America,
had no concept of ownership,
especially of land.
Which is why it wasn't desecrated,
pillaged and destroyed.
Being somewhat deaf,
I may have mis-heard,
but I think
to anthropion 
τό ανθρώπιόν
was a word he coined
to encompass human
-ness, the human condition,
and human behaviour,
but definitely not
Roman-Christian
humanity/humanitas 
in its religiously
self-congratulatory
sense, which arose much later.
is ineptly outlined
my woolly anti-doctrine of
Ineffective Nihilism,
which does nothing 
to combat or resist
or even recognise
Effective Altruism.
My recent experiences
reminded me of lines by world-famous
Seamus Heaney, whose poetry
I have never liked. This mediocre poem,
for example, is ruined 
by the jarring, laboured
'eyebeams threaded laser-fast'.
after the clocks go back,
I forget to turn lights off when going to bed,
and start lighting the wood-stove
to micro-add more to the wholesale
collapse of the world.
with my evening meal
give me a pounding headache
within sixty minutes.
It's not unusual, but
it's more common for old people
to have a next-morning hang-over.
So I've reduced to one,
followed by two glasses of water.
 "The most beautiful boy in the world"
sixteen years old,
(white, characterless, passive
and, to me, fairly repulsive 
in the celebrated film of Death in Venice)
claimed that Luchino Visconti “
didn’t give a fuck” about his feelings.  
“I’ve never seen so many fascists and assholes 
as there are in film and theatre,” said Björn Andrésen. 
“Luchino was the sort of cultural predator
who would sacrifice anything or anyone for the work.”
And, one should add, for his desire and ambition.
![]()  | 
| Much older is much more beautiful. | 
was the motto of my dispiriting school:
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield" 
- especially on the vicious rugby-football field.
Striving for the sake of striving
is the foundation of our culture
with which we cannot help conniving.
are of little consequence
when you feel that you
have been co-opted into
the wrong species
on a planet in the
wrong part of a universe. 
As for 'Identity',
it's just my passport.
in asses' milk
which went quickly sour.
I'll have to make do instead
with a salty, caramel
cornflake-shower.
Jordan Bardella, the president of Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Rally party, said: “The Louvre is a global symbol of our culture. This robbery, that has allowed thieves to take the jewels of the French crown, is an unbearable humiliation for our country.”
I can't understand
how so much erotic activity
is underhand
as well as below the belt.
In Russia, they have always been
crazy times."
"In fact, the disposal of vast numbers
of human beings is just about
the only dynamic the country has ever known."
– Last Rights, Tim Sebastian, 1993.
are insanely anti-intellectual
except when intellect produces
dumb domination ever more effectual.
Pelicot said of Dogan’s appeal:
"I think it is indecent."
Gisèle Pelicot, a brave woman known too much,
should replace Joan of Arc
in the French psyche.
But no way is it likely.
Sending postcards is so passé,
old hat, vieux-jeu...
So I was thrilled to get a card today
out of the blue, so to say,
with pictures of Scottish Lochs on one side,
and on the other this plaintive message
accompanying an unfranked stamp:
I’ve mainly spent the past few weeks
looking joylessly at my knees
as I hiked [presumably on a bike,
so not a tramp]]
through the Highlands
which [rugged surfeit]
was interrupted by the occasional
Trail Friend and Stunning View.
It could almost have been worth it!
You might surf for hours under the heading
'Dejeuner sur l'herbe with naked men'
but, amongst the hackneyed 
reproductions of the paintings
by Manet and Monet, 
and the film of that name by Jean Renoir,
a Renault advertisement by Doisneau
and variations, rude and (by Picasso) crude
jokes upon the theme (Dalí didn't dare)
you may find only these with even one male nude.
| Moderna Museet, Stockholm. | 
 
does not necessarily include the USA,
but now must include Ukraine, the Baltics and the Balkans.
If only I could have found a Cause
worth blowing myself up for
I would have joined it years ago. 
More for contumely than applause.
Excuse me,
but there is neither right side
nor bright side of history.
It is all wrong.
And there is no "redemption", either.
It's no surprise that the world's chief
supplier and consumer of pornography
is the world's chief supplier and consumer
of cadavers (corpses) and body-parts.
I've willed my desiccated body 
to Toulouse University.
For its quick transport I actually paid.
I wouldn't care what anyone would do
to or with my body**, from anatomy-instruction
all the ways to necrophilia, but I am outraged
quite simply (as always) by the trade.
* https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize
** After all, like a good primate, 
I've eaten my deep-fried psoriatic skin-flakes,
nose- and ear-pickings, drunk my urine,
once even tried a tiny piecelet of my shit...
 I used to have some symptoms of the one
(especially continual fatigue and depression)
with bouts of energetic ataraxia;
now I have symptoms of the other.
Preparing for bed is quite a bother. 
Gastric revolt, sometimes brain fog so bad
I have had to work out how to turn on the kettle 
and turn off the laptop; I'm almost always cold;
the type of tiredness that makes me hope
I can die quickly, quietly from fatigue. 
Currently I need to rest half-way 
as I pull myself up the stairs,
and have difficulty getting out of the car
and up the 50-metre slope to it.
Yet I can drive. 
Last week I even managed to saw two logs,
but I simply don't have the energy 
to trot out my symptoms my doctor
or to become a victim of the Wellness Industry.
My latest bargain second-hand buy
folds and fits in the front well of the car.
I don't think I'll use the plastic tray.
reflect our views on life.
My first hero was Theseus
because (for some deep, impenetrable reason)
I was fascinated by his encounter with Procrustes.  
Then (impenetrably) I loved the Minotaur.
For years I had no hero (hated patriarchs)
until I discovered van Gogh (and painting),
and, subsequently, Rosa Parks.
Now this senescent, 
quietist seeker, finder of ataraxy,
considers Volodomyr Zelenskyy*
a hero, though that could be because
the former joker is so admirably sexy.
*who, in the words of Winston Churchill, had greatness thrust upon him.
might be in the past.
If Kali forbid! I were to be
reborn I would like to return
as a sterile spermatozoon
of a happy, hairy man.
by Frankie Boyle (Meantime 2022, page 130)
Moon, the cloudy white
eye of a disinterested
universe.
of Western culture revealed itself i
n the vapid, culturally-restricted
and almost totalitarian
"counter-culture" which it accommodated
and I observed as an anti-counter-cultural 
drop-out.
 "Most of the world's problems
come from the fact that
stupid people talk louder."
- Frankie Boyle, Meantime (2022)
'Bayer (Germany) and Corteva (US) 
control 80 per cent of patents 
for genetically modified seeds.'
What do they care
about people's actual needs ?
The most popular music
for British funerals
is Eric Idle's 
Always look on the bright side of life.
When all's said and done, say no more.
prophets are unsubtle
except when being gnomic.
Their followers interpret them
subtly, or selectively,
which leads to schism
and rank hypocrisy.
Subtle prophets
are philosophers.
that he'd rather share a bed
with a dog than a human.
I would probably have agreed,
without making a choice
between man or woman,
between lice and fleas.