Ralph Schism: Yes but his.....

Dimitri,

In Marisa's perfect language.....

"um dois três...."

Your eyes (are), my daylight
They guide me through the dark

His eyes too....as in the Uttermost place in the universe we stood and discussed that Sublime....

But then as if predicted by that very chat even if ive had it so many times before...but not with a real man, no so called debate - an excurse to show off Rupertine, arrogance...., pure harmony...

" 'it recreates itself every day',,,, to quote the rather mean and stupid old snobby Oxford don.... the last words he said to me.."

to which the man with daylight in his eyes even if rather black like someone i once knew... tells me what it really means....

that little three word meaning of life Ive had in my notepad over a decade, which was rather flashing red on my very assiduously retained ... mental todo list...even bucket.

exactly, in context, and ....with his eyes.

Anyway a sublime, of sorts, it just occurred even if i knew... even fourty years ago:

But 'they' needed us too....

and clearly still do.

If Marisa was in essence only allowed or inspired to a one hit wonder, and Anna, too...

something happens in these

slightly 'machismo' territories....

In fact you can see it in the poise and hands of the probably very average

banjo player, stage left

A woman flies, even further than that far star

on the way to the gutter the other side of the street, most lucky to make it to

And perhaps the men would close around, own her sublime fabulosity...

and never again would she ever create anything as perfect, in infinity

A pattern in such once macho lands

and dont believe the latterday disco diva versions

are anything but a feyboy-produced perversion...

because....hmmm.....

lets just it put it this way

no agent empressario tv station owner

nor copeformer

would dare to have even left a coffee-ring direction

about which way next

on something created by Empress Mrs Siouxsi

never mind fuck with germ Free Polly

(finds me one Euro diva desrvent of the label,

who made more than one sunrise

and i'll eat my shitpan before your eyes

and i am quite quite able

i dont lie)

anyway back to business i thought was OVER!!

And bugger me up at the highest romantic atchin tan

ablutions in one simplest pan..

of luxury so called springwater, deep midwinter tough guy

version...

And flippin eck up comes one from The Source of all Sources

Well i hope she remembers my little chat on the meaning of life

(whatever it takes both you and your wife!...ehh perimenopause is not a word, either... it either sticks or dont, believe me thats all that matters....doggin', this new swappy-surrogate trend but make sure the paperwork is iron clad....

doesn't matter how... or who's the dad

i can tell beneath the perfect smile ... not sad

but don't become like them down below"

blahh b;lahh right thats enough keyboards never made one jot

of difference to her 'universe'...

....anyway the very very last fortnight of such a long quest,

but i know what it's really, for, now...

a few days ago

and as for their "community" well i waited...and waited....

we shall come back to this one day another ten years to get to book 50.

right much more important, outdoor sublime art for a reason.,... but it doesnt work here

It once did...in the actual 'environment' - The Wastelands The Badlands where every picture needs a poignant few paras

And i will.

Hmm home?

now the story in two people's words, collaboration, guestly appearance almost as if one....

well its better than your dreadful Darcy's mum. Fact.

But there's something far far more poignant than getting the servant to run a next bloody loveletter round the corner...

And i can't even hint or give a clue

Well actually i think i could

But.... there's old folks to consider, who aren't us

weren't there.

Meanwhile back in the land of number one gib.

A year ago..... Queen of every castle

Local versions shabby discombobulations

I don't fib.

That story soon...

As warning

Glastonbury really doesnt do much for woman dog or caravan

and discarded rotting awning....

Even when they preach 'global warming'

soon

merely as aide memoire as really she gave me a clue

Right now i have REAL pongoing business

which will be finished despite her mess.

I complete what needs to be

irrespective of what even she

thinks is fait accomple

("damaged people are dangerous as they know they can survive" well ignoring them's what makes me always thrive)

BUt at last ten times more important even if i can't remember whats been left in sanctuary here and whatnot

yert

but it wasn't time just yet

but the actually best atch, actually...for duel purpose, infact three

BUt this for sure is new as Im only half way through

thats the past i must get to for real

this the future

there is no

'now'

but there is power.... and i know how to use my superone

I WILL fix it one day!

But the depth of story just behind one seemingly inane nothing imagery

Thing is i don't know if i could chose I'm so unused to.......

be cont

right its dumpping ALL TIME

even if i only want to get to thistermay

MY one most prized quality

I can still solo sledgehammer

(never any assistance all too busy doin their nails)

even the toughest narrow post

And not hammercrack it ...

precision force and gentleness and i though i would be ghost

of former self, quite the very opposite dont you know

all i know is i know nothing, except three of us found i think the meaning of life

today, unplanned, and i only do anything to, well....

leave behind.

Right now there is one thing that causes my reader numbers to crash burn and run away hissing like badly made cheap chinese firecrackers with no purpose in life other than to simper and flicker into nothing but more rubbish upon this already overtrashed planet, which is when i attempt to get very Socratic and seriously good-writerly...

so i expect it will be at zero readers forever more, soon...

as i will succeed.

Its already in a whole years worth of audio longform....

ONLY because i have ten unused giggawatts before reset day