Well I couldnt map the curve that is me onto Cartesian co-ordinates. Not to mention Kurt Gdel. So I quit and became a poet. Im happy now. Braggadacciao Rolf Auer, 9 June 2014
Youd think you had me at hello, wouldnt you? Except it was ciao, baby. Thats what I heard you say: ciao. Then, you sang it too to top it all off as in over the top and step off. Im sixty and my childhood smile dimples are almost gone from disuse. The Beginning of Gods Eternity Rolf Auer, 9 June 2014
Poetry is the little Confession the little death before God, who said Thou shalt not kill.
God is not a pharmaceutical company bandaging your brain or giving you ersatz priapism.
God is love, and love will judge your life, finally.
Love will have a thousand-year-long discussion with you, post hoc, this mortal coil, and you will falter when your temporality fails to achieve realitys escape velocity.
And then the scales will fall from your snake-eyes. Bridge of Sighs Rolf Auer, 11 June 2014
Its true I dont feel emotion. So what? Do I need it for something? I mean, is it going to change anything for the better? Regardless, youll still go to war, Im just going to make it easier, thats all. Ahhh, war. Is there anything better? The ability to kill with no compunction whatsoever, if only everybody could do that! Any questions? Whats that? Where is the love? Look, I dont know, okay? Who needs it, anyway? Its my world and welcome to it. We Are The Best Rolf Auer, 11 June 2014, revised 15 June 2014
An erstwhile suitor of Penelope, Xerxesfatally wounded and lying in a slowly expanding pool of his bloodwas watching Ulysses and his wife Penelope right beside him lustily and noisily going at it.
They finishedtheir creamy sighs of deepest pleasure contrapuntally setting off Xerxess groans of moribund pain and turned their attention to him.
So, Xerxes did you enjoy watching the FIFA 2014 Soccer World Cup? smilingly asked Ulysses.
Xerxes shook his head.
What was it that turned you off? All the poor people in the favelas getting murdered by police so that you and your sports buddies could not only watch the Cup in peace, but could also buy their residences for vacation spots in South America?
Xerxes? Xerxes? Ulysses looked at Penelope. Stick a fork in him, hes done. Want to go again? Penelope smiled. Bored, the CIA stages Lysistrata during the FIFA 2014 Soccer World Cup For William Blum, John Perkins, Phillip Marshall, Aaron Swartz, Edward Snowden, and Chelsea Manning. Rolf Auer, 11 June 2014, revised 15 June 2014
You know, said one spook to another, Death no longer gives me any great thrill.
Dont fret, said the other, The plays the thing wherein lies the conscience of the king. Lets put on Aristopheness play Lysistrata.
So, once again Lysistrata and her merry band of women held a sexual strike against their husbands, who comprised the military might of Athens ca 400 BC (approx.).
By modern way of response, the men (aka the CIA) held a mass public gang rape and execution of Lysistrata as a cheery warning to the rest.
Then they cut off her head and used it as a soccer ball in the FIFA 2014 Soccer World Cup in Brazil.
The crowdswho were exuberantly snorting the finest Columbianwent wild. Bridge to Nowhere Rolf Auer, 18 June 2014, Revised 21 June 2014
Theres a song by the Traveling Wilburys In it is the lyric, Every day is Judgement Day. Therefore beware of scenarios involving lack of compassion because how do you know that what you do what you perform what you think what you imagine what you picture isnt a dress rehearsal for that One True Conversation wherein your fate, your every sensation, is etched in physicality, this temporality, is that handprint in concrete that leaf imprint in wet clay which under pressure becomes fossilized. Manic Pixie Dream Girl Rolf Auer, 22 June 2014
A rare jewel is your smile red joy dripping from its upturned corners.
This sunrise is again unlike all other sunrises solar gravitational shock waves fiercely embrace me until I fall.
Its just a phase I tell myself like all the other phase in sync. Sifting Detritus Rolf Auer, 22 June 2014
Extracting the windblown garbage from the small grove on the other corner. Sunday, dayday, Sun all day to a dangerous degree, the congregation exiting the Church down the street. Kitty-corner to it a confectionary for smokers and cross-wearing rootbeer addicts; the clerk smiles as he takes your money. Across the street, on the corner where the Sun rises, a rose bush with a hundred white roses. I reach up, pull down one thorny branch which bears one perfect rose. The scent is exhilarating, unlike any other and I go back at the end of my sojourn a second time. No love by another name smells as sweet, no dove in another sky flies quite as high. Perhaps you can find someone wholl forgive your neverending wars, and while youre looking for them, try to also find someone wholl forgive your death- by-garbage destruction of the climate. I accept neither the dying of the light nor its rage. I strive to renew myself, make myself presentable for the final conflict. Im leaving as I came, naked, except for my teddy bear which has needle-sharp teeth and claws.
They did not find a discarded backpack with a Canadian flag sewn on the back of it, beside where the thermite had melted the cruel mouth of the giant thousand-mile-long lamprey sucking the black bitumen blood out of the Earth. Instead they found sharp stainless steel teeth and claws and teddy bear scat. Home again, home again, and no knock on my door from costumed conquistadors guarding by day the vested interests of the meritocracy and guarding by night the Vestal Virgins of their minds. Too bad. I was seeking any kind of publicity for the environmental eco-action group to which I belong, the Bad News Bearcubs aka the Violent Teddy Bears, and their lack of interest left me feeling unsatisfied and unnewsworthy.
These timeworn castoff thoughts have aged me despite my best efforts to remain young. I crave originality as the elixir of life and, unable to obtain it, my fingers unsteadily fumble through my aimlessly greying hairs hiding my subconscious thoughts from myself like a bug hides in a snug vug in a rug. I once delighted in licking the icing off beater spoons, in the intricacies of shoelace knots, in the innocent wonder shining brightly through my eyes illuminating the earth and the heavens and reflected by all the myriad stars above. And now I focus on chipped paint, potholes, and the unrelenting passage of time across the March of Dimes. As humans, we forsook our innocence in our rush to enter the Atomic Age having in effect only just exited the Age of Agriculture. We are old before our time. This potters field of war-torn thoughts has prematurely aged us, has left me cold and old. I can no longer face my mirror.
Where has the time gone? Where is the star engine? Where is the immortality drug? These thoughts are buried in the debris field under liquefied layers of languid time, the settling of water table accounts, the reckoning of the state of progress and the state of the environment, retarded by war. They cannot percolate, circulate, nor precipitate. Thought is stagnant, sedentary, solitary. Thought has not aged well, it is a bitter libation, so please do not think that The Lord God is not offended. Oscar the grouch disavows Boko Haram Rolf Auer, 9 June 2014, revised 24 June 2014
Your false-flag smelly block app fails to impress me, said Oscar.
Your flagrant brazen blatant feeble wordplay marks you as merely some sort of post-intelligence laxative signifying infernal affairs.
Youve been directed to direct your own deaths, yet at what expense? Your own innocence.
Innocence is the seed of creativity. Why did you let them take this away from you? For now you can only speak in forked-tongues until the day the scales fall from your snake-eyes. Leeches Rolf Auer, 25 June 2014
Say, isnt that your friend over there with his hand on your partners knee?
And why is she smiling at him?
Wait a moment. O dont look now, hes kissing her!
Why are you looking at me? You missed the best part, see, theyve left together.
Well, have fun, eh! Im going to join them. See you around!
Wait, wait, it was just a joke Chocolate-covered leech? Mmm Have a little, want a lot Rolf Auer, 26 June 2014
Hey, are you wanting something to wrap your mind around? Are you a noid ?
Better rest up, first. Better take a lude. Interlude.
Asleep? Good. Pleasant dreams.
You: get prints. You: go through his wallet.
The Sun puts a stop on his raise Rolf Auer, 27 June 2014
My boss and I were on the edge of the desert when the drug took hold.
I decided to carpe diem seize the day and demand he give me a raise.
Thats exactly when the solar eclipse started.
I could feel my second-sight wither under the onslaught as I turned to heap scornful and scathing looks upon the advancing enemy troops.
I recalled that I had buried myself this morning, pulling pulling the grave dirt over me cozily. I could still sniff the dead flowers I had heaped up top oer me through the dank soil.
Lugubrious and salty, the floral corruption managed to drown out the more lusty common scents. O the memory of their perfume whilst alive heady and meadowlike it was, and sang out the promise of a sweet, pure future. All that was gone now. Depression was setting in. This must be what it was like to die, I thought to myself.
Newton theorized that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Thus the death I had inflicted instead of belonging to another was my own. The shuddering afterimage glowed silver around the edges for a short time. The evil one had tempted me again. What recourse had I except to die. Vampire Children Are Innocent Rolf Auer, 29 June 2014
We hold this truth to be self-evident: that all children are mostly innocent except vampire children theyre completely-etely totally innocent. Man. Like, 100%. Eh.
How do we know this is true? Well, have you ever heard of baby vampire bites? No? Thats because theyre none. Kiddie vampires dont bite. Q.E.D.
What about werewolf children? Are they innocent, too? Well, I suppose so. After all, you never hear about tweeny werewolf attacks, do you? Q.E.D.
Does this mean Im afraid so. All children are innocent. Its that adults who claim they must kill in wars, via the state, via accidents, whatever.
This much is clear: children are saved Yawning, White Roses Awaken to Sun-sweet Kisses Rolf Auer, 1 July 2014 Canada Day
I nodded off and the dream reality in which I found myself was more real to me than when Im awake. A friend whom I love dearly and madly called out to me from across the way. I rose to my feet and started to join her when I jarringly came awake.
This is who you are. What would you do? What would you do? Would you in this awake reality make some attempt to contact your beloved, to explain how you feel? Would you do this no matter what her circumstances were?
On my street is a white rose bush. Of the hundreds that are accessible, there is perhaps one perfect rose. Youll know it when you see it. What would you do? Fireworks Rolf Auer, 3 July 2014, revised
Sparkles shot brilliant white lines throughout the night sky.
Everyone ooohed and aaahed. I saw the silhouette of a couple holding hands, reassuring each other with the closeness of their mutual warmth.
I rarely attend events such as this. Seeing the moon as a cankerous sore doesnt exactly turn my crank.
Out of the darkness came a small, wavering voice, Is it time to go home yet?
As if by way of reply, the first large warm raindrops fell, signaling a coming downpour.
Recess Rolf Auer, 15 July 2014
Too bright the sun Harsh light drying the skin on contact
Time is liquid honey sweetening all our dreams Sweltering heat gives scents to the heavy humid air
Now during the Canadian summer no one thinks to winter. Dont Look Me Up In Heaven Rolf Auer, 19 July 2014; For PJ Harvey
A book of inspirational war speeches open on my chest.
Roughly: We shall fight on the beaches We shall defend our honour We shall never surrender.
We shall fight We shall We
And Im looking down the same mount as Christ did onto the bloated stinking bodies piled everywhere like so much discarded cordwood.
I cant help but get a sense of disappointment at your unfulfilled promise, humans, and you were so promising.
Verweile doch, du bist so schn.
No, Im not blaming you for thinking with your cocks and pussies instead of using your brains.
Its just that Im wondering why youre pointing at me.
Oh, I get it now you need another scapegoat another hapless victim to blame.
Well you just continue to put your cross up Im outta here.