christas traditions

a message from a fond reunion,

hidden in a bottle

overdrafting on my sidling savings

a big bright banging badhead

brings a boozeless bath

often when alone i think,

“this is exactly what an insane person would do”

and that means i am sane

i feel the agony of love

and recall that the future never happens

consequential couples day was covered in stanza 5 of the love epochal, published may 2025. i will quote as it explains it quite nicely:

every coincidental couple share or will share a day

(assuming all live lives that lap over and aside)

when one is either twice or half as old as their partner.

we only live in relation to each other:

brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, children we are all

anyway, the day that my love and i share is 11/1/1999. 1111 999. it’s a message from the universe. i don’t believe in soulmates. but some people do make a lot of sense for each other.

and the future does never happen: it appears that we are eternally doomed to live now, in the present.

endless time

how would you feel

if everything happened forever

if every moment of your life was still ongoing

everything always in total contradiction

i want the unexpected

off script, dumbfound me

astonish me quick

with your attention to retail

when they finish the history books we’ll see

we just have to just accept the past

it happened

i think about time a lot, the hopeless impossibility of the past, its unchanging nature, its doubtful nature. do facts remain or do they change over time? i worry that the despots of the past, henry 8, pope urban, alexander the great, ghengis khan become sanitised by history. i dread a work 1000 years hence on which the crimes of fascism are forgotten or decontextualised and hitler is remembered as some great socialist leader. perhaps in an eerie, whitewashed slave globe.

it’s important to remember that the rich and powerful are only in it for themselves. the pharos put their slaves to death. the romans were a plunder economy. social democracy is not normal and if we want it we always have to fight for it.

the failure and possible redemption of language

we don’t yet have the language

for the time in which we live

the 2010s, the 2020’s,

don’t feel lived in like the 90s

like naturally stressed 501s

two sizes too big

in every direction

y2k was the last mass adopted nickname

there is no confidence yet

in the unfolding millennium

so i propose a radical redetermination

y2k of d2k,

then d2k.1,

now 2k.2,

or, i posit “point two”

in practice

i mean obviously i don’t expect this to be taken on. its quite abstract. but i hope i can at least draw attention to what is a serious problem. we can’t be going around calling this the 20’s, it’s preposterous.

but you never know. this will probably go viral. by next week i will undoubtedly be a very famous poet and everyone will agree that this is d2k and maybe even that this is y2k.25? anyway, if we are going to live in the future, we should start talking in a befitting manner.