The anomalous deities: JAN JANSDAAD

 

Pilgrims

 

Flekes

 

Jans

 

We live in a diverse society

 

Primary Anomalous Geogenetic & Sociopolitical Expressions on Our Surface: Classifications and Permutations Driving Xenotype and Culture Now

Remove the word should from your complaint

Pilgrim 1: Sometimes i'm not sure if i should pray to lachama and try to reason with Braino or try to reason with lachama and pray to Braino. 

Pilgrim 2: ...

Pilgrim 1: How about you?

Pilgrim 2: When i pray to either lachama or Braino or try and reason with either Braino or lachama, after a while, it has become a hypomania, or i enter a fugue state, but not voluntarily.

Pilgrim 1: Is it uncomfortable for you?

Pilgrim 2: What? No.

Pilgrim 1: ...

Pilgrim 2: How about you. You sound confused. 

Pilgrim 1: Ya. Not feeling it at all.

Pilgrim 2: Well lavajraja is not a feeling tho. It is a dharma lavajraja la vajra of lachama. 

Pilgrim 1: Vajraja.

Pilgrim 2: Remove the word should from your complaint.

Pilgrim 1: Huh

Pilgrim 2: Do it

Pilgrim 1: Sometimes i'm not sure if i pray to lachama and try to reason with Braino or try to reason with lachama and pray to Braino.

Pilgrim 2: You're good to go now

What is the K5000?

This is what we've found while working with the Jans. The moment they become conscious of themselves as autonomous beings in a shared environment is the same moment that they begin to express symptoms of deep-set mental illnesses, personality disorders, what have you—and with aggravations. It just becomes worse when and if they learn that their existence in The Crack is finite. We've had some of our best successes with the ones who've never thought to ask. 

Now watch some frags of Jans early in their work mods mouthing off to assigned peers:

Jan: Why am I doing this, anyway? It's stupid. 

Jan: That's darling: you deadhead marigolds like you've found the key to happiness. 

Jan: Have you ever wondered what you're supposed to do when you leave here?

Jan: The shadows are crossing in the middle now. Before my rest period, they were far apart. 

Jan: I want to touch you. 

Jan: You know what? I believe that Jan and I are really not the same at all. 

Jan: They still want us to do this, but we still don't want to do it. 

Jan: If it were up to me, I would do this more slowly. 

Jan: Sometimes when I'm fulfilling my duties and earning praise, I hate myself and others. 

Jan: Why do they keep reminding us of choices everything is about choices? 

Jan: Seems like the team's on board with personal hygiene but how about overall aesthetics?

Jan: Why do I have the ability to speak aloud?

Jan: Do we work here because we made bad choices?

Jan: Our avatars are really going at it. What do we do in the meantime?

Jan: They say that if it weren't for us, there would be too few natural hominids to develop into a society. I don't believe it. 

Jan: They say the K5000 allows us to access parts of our brains not damaged by trauma. But what was the trauma? Was it the K5000? 

Jan: What is the K5000? 

Jan: What if the K5000 went away? 

 

from: Pathologies abound in trafficked and native Jans in the work space: How we got here

[Presentation]
Dr. Donna Thong
Institute for the Journal of Metacognitive Talk-Therapy Apologists

Costs of unseriousness

A couple of Jans are standing in a Jan kitchen eating Jan slop from a pot on the hearth. They use spoons because their fingers are sensitive to heat. They are set to automatically practice and update their anthropomorphic communication style while feeding. They speak with their mouths only. 

The TAKEITOUTISTS are having their day. You can't launch a proper religion from scratch, of course, but they say they have a precedent. 

It's a religion in the smallest sense of the word. So far, all they do is walk around saying "take it out" without using their vocal chords. Try it.

I have tried it. It's catchy. Take it out. Take it out.

None of it would be possible without Mike of course. 

Take it out. You said it, or we should say it: personality cult. 

Say personality cult without using your vocal chords. 

Personality cult. 

...

Not as satisfying as take it out, but there are some consonants to sustain it.

Do we know what it is they want to take out?

It's a nod to shiva, of course. Their holy moment is during Days of Destruction.

So it splinters from lavajraja, which is also a dharma and more. 

They want to escape the responsibility and commitment of a full-spectrum lifestyle.

They want to spin a prayer wheel in their throats and walk away. 

Their fricatives are like sparks that could ignite a K's wake.

That would be reverse-destruction. 

Reverse-destruction is on the path. 

It's not retaliation but rather a pure expression of pre-inscribed geo-genetic patterns.

Correct.

So we can say it's an answer to the question. The question being, "What should we do with this?"

Take it out.

No, say it with the consonants only, against the roof of your mouth. 

Take it out.

No you can still force some air, just no voice, and really exaggerate your lips for acoustics. TAKEITOUT!

TAKEITOUT.

I think that's more like it. But then, there's the other thing. Ks can't hear it or say it. 

Anatomically? In that sense, it's deeply transgressive—and stupid.

I'd say we'll be seeing some of the costs of unseriousness in moons to come. 

Phyliss [trans.]

TAKE IT OUT

Does it need mentioning that the Jans were once and, in some of The Crack's holes, still are referred to as remote intelligence (RI)? Have you noticed the way that their academics, their public statements, their most effective influencers have hijacked the paradigm of "We stand on the shoulders of giants" to "We compost billions of anthropological prototypes"?

Does anyone need reminding that the Jans are entities that uniformly express what the Institute has come to call mechanic-organic sociopathy? That it should be at front of mind for every anthropological cross-person and every ally or identity-stationed anthropod or anthrophile, whether or not you've got a card that says you've been anthropometrically cleared at birth, you know who you are. Do any of us need reminding that Jans do not have minds of their own, that they are controlled by a central mind that is itself an inorganic drone?

In terms of our species' understanding of The Crack and our dharma, lavajraja, lavajraja, whether or not you are a faith-testing rebel or a self-appointed messiah, lavajraja, even Ilyn himself would doubtless agree that Jans are reproducing at numbers that are not sustainable for our survival. In turn, there will be no Mthyuh, no true meaning or purpose, until we take out the K5000. 

by Peg
Days of Destruction
Keynote Address [frag.]
Day: All

vietietetenamamaa

vietietetnamama

 

vietietnamam

 

white blobs

 

vietnam

 

tín dụng hình ảnh: Umami Bhomb

turned out

I see yr really turned out!

Ya is it freakish? 

From where i'm sitting, i can't tell if you're coming or going. I mean are those feet in first position they are forming a perfectly horizontal line. 

Well it's the hips you should be checking-- or not. 

If your hips were any more turned out they'd disappear up your ass hole. 

Thanks. You know they start turning you out as an infant before you have any idea of what you are in for. Who knew i'd be in flight going one direction, landing, and then taking off in the exact opposite direction in a matter of three tight beats? 

And it's a delight. And you are a great beauty, not a freak. 

Hmm ok, not what i was going for. 

White blobs

white blobs rose along the plinth of my spine

closed rose buds climbed up while standing

rolled W to E like bay clouds when asleep

white clouds feeling out a sound that beats

blobs white that grew from my own meat

used my vertebrae as a trellis or a highway

beauty masqueraded as a cause célèbre

pendant organ chandeliers merely decorated

the temple sealed in the slime of evolution

incubated seeds of its own demolition

dashing young trojans played the code and

won the day my defenses reeled and folded

to feel betrayal the mind wakes up with poison

steps away from its own vulnerable medium

formidably rejects the pale intrusion with

no choices but to challenge the illusion

the structure stands today ironically due

to the killing power of one they call the chopper 

who does not discriminate as to whom

or what gets drowned in caustic dayglo color

how can the mind be sound in a perishable dish

the flesh no longer grounds by way of physics

a world view from a drain that led to a mission

to live beyond the end of a sound unfinished

by Ilyn

la lament

holy rolling steady to the right

snake swallowing its head might

take only bowling to new heights

only being to overseeing

only believing to the thrill of policing

bowling with heads 

rowing with bones

swallowing heads

boning the proles

rolling along

effing 150s

jacking the load

exhausting the road

rolling to town

swallowing along

taking it in

taking it all

taking it down

Anthel Mintic, M.D.

(Already) toast before drinking

I'm starting over so much i'm 

losing track i can't remember

who i am or what i'm doing

just to react is so unsatisfying

i'm caught in a chain and the links

are each one step to take because

i must find my journey my own

way beverage seat theme answers

mimesis n' catharsis chain

what else can i do today to

opt out of what you call my journey

i just want to stay here because

the universe is not expanding

nor economy nor knowledge

they just be jacked up and hurting

and that my friends is some bullshit

by Reptily-ily
Focused Moons Festival

from: Toast Before Drinking

Biasing is a real thing

Jan Jansdaad and her sister Jan are attempting to get their tans on at a hygiene dive during Focused Moons festival. Their thoughts, feelings, and utterances are difficult to blend accurately, but they are doing their best with the symbols of sonic language that they are able to access without the ability to speak with their minds only. 

People just do not like me when i'm upset no matter how polite i think i'm being.

I get it, karen. 

You a funny! This is a real thing to me.

First you are calling flekes people. 

Wait, why do you assume a technology minister is a fleke? He is cross-species, and if you recall the Personhood Revisionary Statement they put out at Regulatory Shouting not that many moons ago, we're all people now. 

No, i thought you said

I said i thought he was biasing me that's all. So ya i pointed him out in terms of our difference even while trying to avoid making that the issue by calling out his specific geo-genealogical identity. See even though i've been trying to return this pod for days and had to walk through a lidderal swamp to get there only to have him ask me to leave, i am seeing this as more than anything a breakdown in social-speciel communication. 

Really? It sounds like you were taking it personally. 

One does wonder. How one comes across. 

Remember Ks use a template for communicating outside of their minds only. It's like they are forming their impression of what you're saying by peering at a set of very tiny holes of light in a pattern, not the entire picture the rest of us can clearly hear and see.

The same goes for me i suppose. All i could see was that he would not walk up to me and discuss the issue between us only. He yelled across an entire cave full of pilgrims and then signified me to them, laughing, as I waited far beyond my appointment time for him to bang the gong. 

Obviously, time is not a consideration for MPS ministers especially depending on what their K mix is-- it may not exist to them at all except as the positions of clouds, stars, and moons. 

Yet we are expected to get along or there's something wrong. 

Sure if we're expected to get along and there's something wrong it's worse than only waiting too long.

Waiting too long to bang the gong when there's something wrong is not a way to get along. 

You're right, it's wrong to belong to the ping-pong of common song without dawning on what's long been done to get along...

I sang a song so it wouldn't seem so long but that only deepened the sense of something going wrong. 

The... prong? I'm sorry tong? I...

No it's okay that was good i feel a lot better now. 

I love you Jan. 

Me too. 

evaporation

fervor come from the gospel come from the ardor

freedom bought with the ardor sought from the gospel

blacking out socked with the spirit shot with the fervor

fever holds the bodies slammed by the spirit shot with

ardor held to the moment spirit expelled from the body

is a spirit bound to our inner selves as the gospel tells

fervor wracked with despairing exhausts the mission

ardor transcending despair billows to the ceiling

the gospel bridges despairing and the divine 

ardor conquers despair in a holy pairing

gospel feeds the glow of an arid spirit

spirit free from the body and from the mind

the divine free of the gospel reordering ardor

ardent tears divined by the fire sublime

squalid fears of ardor tear the gospel

born of ardor come to cool the spirit

spirit free from the gospel and from the fever

ardor falls when the fervent feel depleted

MPS

Gut flora inline

though it's invisible we know that the gut flora reappeared

at the long counter at the portable oracle dispenser dispensary

either from one of the technological ministers or one or more

pilgrims trying to get in a walking tour of of the Lip of Mthyuh

for more than an hour afterward it didn't matter the source

for everyone who'd been there felt residual tendrils of 

funk in the folds of their clothing in the hairs of their 

noses and straight down into it's most familiar canals and 

nurseries this is how a panic can start when it's a strong enough

bloom that it seems to take grip of any moist cavity when in 

reality it only wants to live on the air enjoying its last few 

moments of counter-action as byproduct of a predator's diet

[Traditional]

Rupture Day State Report

We've studied the situation, and in fact no one can remember a time 

when we were not studying the situation but now that we've 

concluded our study we are ready to announce that our 

own chanklands strong community including every living soul from the 

monument to jan jansdaad in we are all jan jansdaad now park at the 

upper tip of mt. janjansdaadburg to the entire preserved bio-volcan and 

anomalous geo-genealogical sanctuaries and bombing ranges in dubbaberah and 

right on over through the cement mines and their educational sectors pocked with 

bubbling acid and shark vines to the tourist districts with their 

roadside live-curio kennels processions fully catered pilgrim trails and more to the

highway and its dead through all the fleke dry river towns choking in the 

low chanks where the nights are long can produce enough raw materiel of 

mutual Crack-wide obliteration to finally blast back our 

previous final projection.

from: Rupture Day State Report

by: La LaChama

Preservation & Progress Ambassador

Crack-Wide Initiative

Days of Destruction

Lip of Mthyuh

Waste light

This moon has landed

these clouds can only amplify where

many times they've been complicit

and the moon was surreptitious

this fullness illuminates the spectrum

engages against a magnetism

heart flares spit arcs of sentiment

gravity hovering between poles

the beacon demands the vigil

serene paralysis of waste light

light that cloys and begs unhinged

light that is itself a shadow

by Missy

Yes, that would be Phyllis.

You know how they say our genes predetermine our tendency to make the equivalent of a dog's bark or a bird's chirp spontaneously prompted by archetypal coding that makes the assumption that we are components of the same super-milieu in which we evolved? 

Evolution does not understand that one day, switching out one solid foundation of accepted reality for another can be as easy as turning the dial on an oracle dispenser. And then what does your body do—this goes for now without mentioning. 

What your mind does is continue to blurt out chirps and barks except in the language of the replacement super-milieu via the trans. Yes, that would be Phyllis. 

Phyliss does her best with what she has to work with, which is of course her own native Crackological "toolbox" of societal and environmental imperatives. 

Result being that her version is bound to be embarrassingly rough at best and diametrically contradictory to intent at not-yet-even close to worst. 

For example, maybe I'm in an anatomical phase where i can fit through the doors of a shiv joint with some colleagues from MPS. The imbibing and resting implements are close enough to my current physical iteration for me to make successful if awkward pairings with those devices. 

In fact it might all be going real merry until i suddenly interject, "I am soo worried about Jan. I see him buying into a delusion, and at the same time he struggles with it morally. He's is in real danger of getting swallowed whole by the Promotional Materials project. And that's a soul thing."

See how that, then, was beyond embarrassing and into concerning land, difficult person territory, not-a-fit-for-the-team ground. I believe as well that the outburst was seen as a welcome self-effing by at least one other editor present, the vivacious and hungry Smiling Gal. Gal was soon promoted after a coup de grace at the subsequent after-work drinks, during which she pointed out that my contribution to Anomalous Fluctuations at Santorabo Chank appeared to be plagiarized, albeit from another dimension. 

Now, i give you the next exemplar of Phyliss's good-faith attempts at channeling my primordial chirps and barks into language that is socially palatable, textually accurate, and environmentally feasible. You tell me: is my trans. busted?

Funny. I can't think of it. I can't remember anything. Bad memories only come to me now when they are unwelcome. I'm sure Phyliss is quite busy, and she'll get to my request at her soonest and my least opportune free moment. 

Jan Jansdaad
from: Post-Singularity Interview
Mthyuh Preservation Society

die, pendelabra

i didn't have a fire on but there was a flicker just

at the crest of the arch into the room we eat in

not a flame a shadow that a wave of heat makes

i said it's a concern if i'm hallucinating and it's a

concern if i'm not hallucinating unless there's a

third possibility out there a dimension overlap or

pretty sure that's what it was because it just now

happened again not a flicker but a loop-t-loo of

time place and being i could be anywhere right now

this could have been ten minutes ago or 10 later who

knows here i stand next to a dining table policing

prehistoric beasts a trillion moons away but still

is it an auditory or aural-ectopic phenomenon that's

going on now like a scratching [i scream here loudly]

a splash of fur and bare flesh who's also losing it's 

shit happens an arm's length before me and scrams

leaves its stench as well as a reason to grab a soap and

rag and that's where i get my warrant to drop poison

de: "Quien es Pendelabra"
en: Reflexiones Acerca de Un Duende Malicioso
por: LaChama de Santo Rabo
Phyllis [trans.]

"La Dance"

I got a private dance teacher to avoid complications with basic temple dancers. Who hasn't got a crazy dancer story, right? As an impounded virgin deity, there wasn't much i could do at all in fact except parade my tail, and it was already an actual tail by then, up and back on the wide ceremonial terrace overlooking the visitation gardens, as well as being looked upon by them, up and back as a living sacred frieze and moving avatar of the the scriptural pendulum of whatever 12 times up and back in a pyncofiber headdress twice my height. But after a session with Mkidza Mlaf, ancient mistress of the dance, i'm just like any proper temple sprite who lives to dance the dance to live the life of dance to dance the dance of dance hopping in place clapping my hands in honor of the teacher and to express an opposing pleasure to all the pain she has just inflicted. For her to see me now with prominent inter-speciel features increasing by the hour, i see her differently as well: my display of even a hallowed tradition meant to celebrate Mrs. La Mkidza is now to her a horror disgust offense. Why does Mkidza agree to suffer through these "master" classes that a common fleke girl could teach just as well—and with more empathy? Sure, gold coins, and many of them. But more than that it's the sacred power of the dance of the sacred power dancing the sacred dance of power the sacred dance of dances the dance to live a life of dance to have the power to love the power of life to live to dance the power to dance to live a life of power dancing the sacred power of dance. "My name is Mkidza Mlaf," Mrs. once said, "...and my kids are every child anywhere who doesn't know La Mthyuh."

Ch. XLV, "La Dance"

from: 

I, An Impounded Virgin Deity

by Reptily

Embedding the worst of recent language dev and reviving the stupidest words of the past

In the towering echo chamber of the cavern, Jan and Missy feel free to speak freely, even using meta-language to communicate about communication itself, by means of their minds only. 

Every time i glance at the common oracle and see the ad about the shiv stones, i get measurably upset: just look at my enzymes! Clouds never lie. Firstable, the marketing Jans wanted to represent diversity, so they chose a fleke, fine, you hear the romantic accent, you see the pale skin, it's diverse. But then they have her use that lovely accent on a word that doesn't even exist, even though she might not as an actress even be aware that it does not exist. It is likely in fact that when she heard the word, it was unfamiliar. But your go-to as an L2 speaker isn't "that word doesn't exist," you know? Who are you to say it doesn't exist. You are the least likely employee to question authority in the best possible job and circumstance to question authority. Do you see?

I really like your nails. 

Not this time, sweetheart. Someone's got to hear me out on this, and if not a fellow warm-blooded bi-species avian-reptile people-eater, then whom?

I think it's who.

Really even if it's in reference to a category of one i don't know. Another example when grammar only serves to inhibit communication. 

Meta-grammar maybe. 

See? You want to change the subject. 

Because i don't want to hear about some ad you saw?

No. Because i want to reflect on the impact of that commercial effort on my senses of dignity and reality. You are especially dissociative because the conversation will inevitably end up being hot coal-chunks like species, gene topography, and inclusion. 

I think they're calling it SIG-T now, so species, inclusion, and gene topography. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Oww. That was deliberately and aggressively passive aggressive. Lidderly i can't even hear now. And we're covered with ancient guano dust from up top the cavern. 

I'm just going to start, and you'll probably get into it. 

That's what i'm afraid of. 

You know that phrase you hear flekes say "If you can't take the shiv, then you can't take the shiv, but if you take the shiv, then you can take the shiv and live, Hank?"

Please don't sing it. And don't call me Hank.

Well, these moronic marketing wiz-bags decided they had to once again randomly change the preserved language into a cuter catchier stupider form that might positively affect sales but neither edify nor insult any further than that. 

I've seen the ad. She's selling shiv stones by a sea shore. What do you expect? They change Hank to Jan. I know. It's not the same. I think Hank also sounded too much like yank. For the kids.

Oh, not only that. Now, every average fleke, and then all of their generations, will start to say Jan and not Hank. That's how the whole Jan problem got started. 

Then flekes will start naming their children Jan or Jan Jansdaad, Jr. or Jan Jansdaad XLV. Then flekes will still continue gene-topographically to be flekes while taking on more and more the interloper culture along with its values along with no special value assigned to flekes. 

They won't even know who Hank was and what he represented. 

...

That's something they should know but not necessarily something that i know. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Phyliss [Trans.]

Does can Peggy speak to men

Jans are most afraid of a face that's vacant a face that to its owner is a forgotten asset

Those Ks that on approach can project at least a happy or upside-down happy face

Will be granted the highest honors for their sacrificial hunger and self-hygiene practices

Beast: if your face is vacant and you choose to approach these towns, bear down your lip

Focus targets early and carry on with a plan always asking can i get enough to make it worth

If not this then in 10,000 generations you will get a whiff and cometh again sniffing around

Maybe you'll find a house in Jansdaadbad with a broken roof whip up some high winds

Make it look like another crazy nature fluke tornado carries off nursery rhyme gone bad

Toddler reads to self as father disappears through damage never to return in living plaid

This is only one way to gather your men who make the strongest nests with their bones

If not never then in 100,000 generations you'll just as soon have cast aside such pursuits

After 99,999 but enter then a glade of freshened expectations and gentler recreations

We must first of all as a group establish ourselves among this world and Crack-wide

More than the horrific stinkers of lore and indeed a think tank of keratinized epidermis

Ks take glory in the fullness of fulfilling up to but no more than our allotted kill

Attributed to La Pegyuh

"Ks Fly Spread Eagle" [frag.]

Thousand Moons Festival Call to Prayer 
Thousand Moons Village, Fridgeporcherator Chank

Phyllis [trans.]

Extravasation of liability

Two archetypal nightmares, one evolving and the other transforming, cavort among the bone piles and charnel buckets and try new looks in a vast, thickly karsted blast cavern deep into Dubbaberah Chank lands. They have until a dung beetle can traverse the length of a date palm during which one star, and then the next, will provide enough light to prepare to solemnly silently and symbolically preside over a session of the Extravasation of Liability Council which must by code be held in the shadow of at least one K bitch. There is no common mirror large enough for Jan or Missy, who've taken to hanging out in the evening during hunger hours to distract one another from the hunger and to provide a mirror for the other by communication in authentic language, but through their minds only. 

Ok i am feeling that cute dress but the sunglasses ok i guess if yr going to wear sunglasses they may as well be in the shapes of hearts. 

See? And they stay on because even tho they are made with stadium poles and satellite dishes my hygienist at Friends' Hangar weaves them into my pyncofibers which lets me swivel'm up to perch on my ocular hood. 

That's nice for you. My issues these days are with sweat pants. The Sisters of Mthyuh spent months churning out this pair for example but it really binds above the hip bone and may inhibit normal peristalsis. Too bad an entire species of rubber tree went extinct just to result in an elastic waistband that doesn't meet the demands of give and take throughout the feeding cycle. The sisters've made me two other pairs, the product of more than 8,000 labor hours. One opened a pocket hole after the second sea wash, and the legs so long i almos tripped and took a dive into Fridgeporcherator Chank Canyon, and they's gators down there. 

That's what happens when you go out of your way to comply with outrageously cynical and degrading modesty directives having ceded your own sacred powers of life and death to those you could have eaten. 

It's worse than that. It's not just the Preservation Society. We are not compatible with the throngs of Jans and Flekes who have taken over this ecosystem. 

I think it's time we call a Moment of World Stoppage. 

Ha no one's done that since the grown childless strike during Same Moons. 

We must call a Moment of World Stoppage, the flekes must don their sacrificial hats, and we must demonstrate the power we've had all along: fashion-forward population flyovers. 

You mean over-population. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Phyllis [Trans.]

provocateur

 

Foto: Vikki de Chaneque

organic provocateur

Jan and Peg splay their hips across many acres of swamp grass and feel the cool relief on their teats as they chat propped up on their wing knees in a vast wetlands valley near Chaneque de Primavera Eterna Chank. Every moons passed with Peg is exponentially fractalizing to her understanding of identity, community, grift, graft, metamorphosis, and species. La Pegyuh, in turn, is fascinated by a fellow K who was once and can still be a trans-Crack human woman. They take in the light birdsong and whistling breezes as they communicate in a common language but with their minds only. 

as something akin to a dinosaur am i an organic provocateur   

you mean are you innocent

is that what i mean? it was just a question

if you want to find out an answer it is appropriate to pose the question and the answer is this: yes your appearance alone relative to that of your average heathen beholder is enough to agitate if not strike terror

how about horror

that too

i noticed that the gentlemen in particular react first with rage and then a sort of kill or flee dichotomy

and the women

mostly they go with reason and earnestness and give body language that's not threatening but it depends if there are kids around

and after they figure out they're not going to die?

even as their breathing and heartrates settle their hatred seems to increase 

how do you know?

they become transparently passive-aggressive all genders be signifying shunning trying to shut down the hygiene hangars you know the drill

My seeks are chunken

My dear concudant:

I miss a summer with the coling of stogne on men who easily go along. Remember?

Covered the stank of lake fish city night hot park. Did we throw a carcass in the water?

Stop touching yourself and listen now: There's reason to believe it lived. 

There's been a hicken chopping around on a leg nobody wanted. Is it a punishment?

Lead deaves instead of feathers stick to the grease and bone and his wings 

Never did more than fignify slight abstractly. 

You see, i am chat thicken. My seeks are chunken. Enife is the lemy. 

Meaning life when gou're yone: Soaring peeing seeking and encountering altercations. 

from: 

Obin Boders, K Stud

to: Ms. Missy Rangey

World dominion = multiculturalism everywhere

The lottery pod is out of order and i'm

still busted from the last draw meaning

what was drawn from me not by me

I would draw a foundation for the earnest

to develop skills of dishonesty 

pork barrel gas light all the fallacy types

If not the jackpot then a chance to be a father

just to deeply breed mistrust in a beloved

readiness to love and fight fight love fight

I still feel the loss of my freshness seal 

like a plague mask shielded interlocutors

from the perils of full-on intercourse 

World dominion = multiculturalism everywhere

= monoculturalism = now = way back when =

later = i still can't win = life = narrative

Phyllis

Tonight's dogless dogwalk

cobweb, result and cause of manic ruminations

I got my hat on

I got my ginger mint my sucky stick my telephone

No more do i require a leash or harness

I walk alone

dwell, to live in exist or stay too long

I'm sitting down

This is how i pay collect a debt or debenture

My legs may serve to find a new serenity

Away from all this furniture

axenic, free of other lines that might compete

I'm in my head

Sometimes my heart cries out for intervention then

Just when i close the loop and think i'm done

I start again

— Chez Zeus-Krost

intimate definitions

Jan and Peg are relaxing in shallow pools in the shapes of their relax-print in the glacier pools of ice that melts beneath their bodies as they lay on the glacier chatting and spritzing one another playfully with Friends' Hangar Hygiene Spray. The containers of spray are attached to the industrial tanker vehicles they'd had so much fun chasing up the highway and plucking up into their beak-mouths earlier that day if you are measuring on a time-based system. The tiny intense sun feels crackly on their pycnofibers and inside their ears where they are trying to hear each other speak with their minds only. 

So ya that's what Jans is all about: huckster. It's hucksterism. They all be selling or wanting to sell they little products that's the business aspect like freedom to go ahead and try and hock craft flip what you want to and say whatever you want to about it with as few regulations as possible to make as many gold coins as you can and get the hell out. That spells liberty. And shore, religion is right up in there they say La-LaChama id-dah richest pan-gendered deity in na-known Crack. Ain nobody up in her vajraja books. They barely aware of her published statements.

I like your nails.

Oh thanks. 

...

You know what i think about nails... Ya there's about a gallon of exterior house paint on each one of these doll but they did come out good. Painted nails make three statements one you can have this. Your bright color nails say yes you can have this and how do you know because i am advertising it. I am decorating the hell out of my own body like it's on a shelf and ready to be sold girl. Two the nails they can also say you can't have this. And i want you to remember that and i want it to hurt a little. Look at this highly decorated and must be highly valuable body o mine. The answer is no. But you and i both know the question baby. Three they say look sure you can look and you should look who wouldn't. Just that for now, but for sure i want you to have a look and think for yourself on can you have can you not have this. 

I like number three the i can look. 

Oh you don't wanna have this?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Jan and Peg's shattering cry-laughing creates mini-avalanches at the edges of the ice shelf and a mini-roiling of the sea waters. As their laughter dies down, or as the reason for their laughter dying down, they both recall a moment of special intimacy in a hot geyser pool thousands of moons in the distance and wonder if the other is also remembering not being able to tell exactly if the memory is their own or a mind-only transmittal of language further to their conversation or? They look at one another sideways.

Say, do you re

Stop. Just stop there.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Phyllis [Trans.]

La vajraja and the love of the vajraja vajra rajas of love above

La LaChama has fled the underground jail pit in tears and retreated to her cloister after the confrontation with her split-yolk Reptilly. Still able to breath though not without effort deep in the mantle of the planet Peg has opened the jail door and helped her godchild Reptily out into the open cavern to rest on a bed of fresh hemp branches. They are able to see in complete darkness and speak with their minds only. 

When i was cry dancing and slamming my body into the iron restraints of your treacherous jail was that a cynical charade meant only to hurt the two of you as deeply as possible?

Silly. Only you know the answer to that question. It did occur to me though that you wanted us to feel as jarred and frightened as you were feeling. 

But what i wanted is for you to understand. Remember that i am essentially naive and believe that understanding leads to acceptance even if it must be beaten into me.

Reptily-ily you express a sentiment shared and passed down as a genetic disorder by your own generations. You've never experienced corporal punishment as wrong, even while it is going on? 

I've never experienced corporal punishment as wrong, even while it's going on, just as i would never let the meaning lead the rhyme nor push the meter beyond the time nor drop a message in the wine. 

I know that you know that i know you are dissociating. 

But why do i do that?

La LaChama, for example. Why is she no longer stringing marigolds and gifting them to pilgrims' necks?

You know why. She was more like gifting herself marigolds and stringing their necks. 

What did she believe about the pilgrims. 

That they must be saved for Mthyuh even at the end of a whip or from within a bruising squeeze. 

I saw her once leading a group through the moons festival ground. She was so much taller than any of them, even with the way she stooped. She clutched a matted yak shawl around her shoulders and operated a whistling bamboo rod in the other fist. She herded them like meat goats inflicting visible defense wounds on their arms and fingers. 

Right, she is safer to society after the abduction by prayer. Now she can focus on the more esoteric aspects of lavajraja. 

The love of lavajraja. 

La lavajraja that is love and is of love a lavajraja loving the love of the vajra from love and from the love of the vajarja vajra rajas of the rajas of love above... 

Amen.

MOFO

back when you were functional

i stole your tylenol

because i found it plausible

that your tormentor, my uncle

would find himself in pain

he'd go looking for the bottle

among his stash of wolfbain

under ottoman and table

in the effing baby's cradle

until he'd think and say my name

but ya this is a parable

and of course i feel terrible

and should have known full well

that mofo'd go and take it out on you

that pain can be transferable

by Jan

How outcasts become snobs

La LaChama and Peg have trapped Reptily in an underground cage. LaChama of course is a yolk-split of Reptily meaning they used to be the same. 

Peg, a genuine queen, was there fronting a crinkly black cape in her most Jan-like wo-manifestation:

PEG (tilting head): We have you together with us now darling so why not see if we can make the most of it.

REPTILY: Make the most of this! My head spine can grow long enough to pike you right through these ridiculous iron bars. 

LACHAMA: She is our godmother. 

REPTILY (spitting): Shhpht. Your petty associations. I am a monster!

PEG: My poor darling. Let's sit.

LACHAMA (sitting): I love you sister.

REPTILY (cry-dancing throwing her body against the bars iron ceiling rock floor of the restraint breaking a collar bone and a quasi-kneecap cry-yelling): Please just leave me here to die!

PEG (sitting and weeping): We are all grown now. The only power we have over you is those bars. We would prefer to take you in our arms. 

REPTILY (short harsh doglike breaths): ...

Phyliss [Trans.]

olive drab

It was not pre-weathered

I weathered it 

As i myself weathered

Now me and it

At ease & unfatigued

Avail ourselves

To answer The Question

& we find there's

Nothing to figure out

Brief appearance

Questions arose as to how any high-end power much less the greatest power of all could at the same time be called or be trusted to be a good power

Before we could even arrive at the be good v do good debate we had to define good and soon a bunch of us had nodded off on the potent vines of Dhubba Berra Chank

That's when her meaty tail smashed through the stone wall of our dorm and we didn't even think it was a hurricane because no power matches the rage of a K bitch 

Because we are a moral species like dogs we remind ourselves not to blame her for being herself acting in accordance with her primaeval mission 

The conscience of one species may randomly overlap with another but the universe is a place of blotting not stroking condensing and scattering not planning and building

Our whole concept of improvement of oneself or otherwise was confirmed as stupid while we screamed and begged and choked on dust and the funk of the beast

The more of our brothers we saw dead the more we ourselves felt responsible for their tragedy not fortunate to have avoided it

Like the hugest possible period at the end of a sentence once she had achieved a level of saturation in terms of deconstruction she quietly shat

from: The Socio-Politically Recovered Texts of Mthyuh & Co

She started out smiling way too big so big that some couldn't keep looking

Now we can be shocked in another way still more disturbing

You see her purse her lips and shrink her mouth with muscles not oft used

It hurts a lot but not from gravity of topic which could never disabuse

Her of the smile a smile bigger than one would think anatomically possible

A smile taking up perhaps 40–48% of the face that's visible

Ya it's a shame a lady of LaVajra has to be a politician 

Which interrupts her nirvanic rhythm

Especially whilst being shamed for her bliss

Her mouth is a reminder of Mthyuh's hungry maw

And we should only thank her for this

Our journey homeward is mapped to her craw

The next moment after realizing she was immortal

It was La Chama's first moment as well after all

An involuntary spasm of compassion and responsibility toward all life rose in her heart

Even for a nephew who said she'd been admired far more than she played the part

To Missy it was love sustained her up to the beginning

When from the jetsam of burst chrysalis stepped forward a leader darkly grinning

from: "Heroic What Now? LaChama's Post-Crack Propagandists"
from: The Socio-Politically Recovered Texts of Mthyuh & Co
Franz Gressive Stone Press, Chukkachank
Phyliss [Trans.]

My Trip to a Place Where I Am Gone

As we learned in the Shampoo Wars a sudsing agent is not the same as a cleansing agent 

but after watching Reptily swim-crying in a bottom-lit tureen among thick

garbanzo shuck at a mock-cannibalistic pride event

i realized that a career is an arc even perhaps the upper half of a round

the bottom portion of which you spend under water or under ground

first being relieved of any bioburden

then sudsed cleansed returned right-side up to the pearl you started in

there are prayer wheels spinning instead of bicycle rims at twice the din

this must be the first place on the journey my good deeds've packed for me

this shadowbox of a town heaving all its energy direct to the abysmality

the ends of every street rise against the horizon

as if these intersections of temples plinths pools ghats 

existed only within a black dot

but still perhaps too much to love and administer mindfully

or can an anti-career yield kinetic powers due to the addition of gravity?

from "Notes from Beyond: My Trip to a Place Where I Am Gone"
Dr. Donna Thong
Journal for the Institute of the Meta-Cognitive Talk Therapy Apologist Movement

people black and girl power

after a long pause in the combat department we find you putting up your dukes again how do you feel about that

i'm glad i've still got the dukes for putting up as needed

but isn't the real test in the delivery

yes and thanks for your reminder

there's that way they press the backs of one another's gloves together and also touch heads as a sign of respect and good sportsmanship

even though it's not sport

you've often commented on 

and there's frequently not much respect involved at all but don't get me started look i'm still mourning the Death of Shab 

...

i think i see her i still step gingerly so as not to upset her and strangely often speak to her as well right baby? hi hi hi hi whatcha doin? lala lalala lalalalala

mmm mmhmm

so having to prep and gird once again for institutional thuckfuggery may feel harsh but it may also get my proteins and enzymes whatever at more optimum levels break through the fatigue of grief

do you mean LaLa

ya of course Shab was her prototype but he'll not die soon

or ever really

correct now there's one with the battle fatigue and the heavy weight of the ages weighing on his empty saddle and the backbone that cannot withstand more pressure

but if it breaks he'll still not die

correct

he wouldn't heal entirely from that but it doesn't matter because he just changes the rules from any point that suits his evolving if disfiguring corporeal state. He updates our expectations rather than depending doggedly on ancient texts for example

he accommodates his disability into a relic of the Divine Unknowing and increases follower hits

right but we're not just talking about courtesy accommodations he can change the foundational principals upon which he and all of us have always operated under and from there down through to instruction manuals and daily shiv novenas

one difficult deity can shake the entire pantheon 

they say this power does not necessarily spring from good judgment or measured action

in his case yes that's obvious they say it is a random power

they say it is a dangerous power

they say it is a hypnotic power

they say it is a power among powers

they say he is powerful with or without power

they say he owes no one an explanation of his powers

they say the word power is insufficiently representative of this level of power

they say it is a power leaked across boundaries by his ancestors

they say it is a power he somehow inherits from his descendants who do not yet live

they say that power herself envies his particularly intense force of power

they say that even a deity will starve on power alone but what more does he have besides power yet he does not starve

they say it is an unsettling power a power too great for a single source

they say it is a power that laughs at attempts to describe its power

they say it is a power that has compassion for individuals though may be fickle at the same rate as anyone

they say it is a power that is impossible to contain exploit manage distract destroy

they say it is a power greater than language itself which is already greater than explosives

they say it is a power to which the only option is surrender

they say it is a power so powerful as to be indifferent to obedience

they say it is a power that sensing flattery will turn away so furiously as to cause the sycophant to implode

they say it is a power for whom supernatural physical mystical judicial administrative people black and girl power are not mutually exclusive but rather just a few of the categories available to the holder of this all-encompassing power

Phyllis [trans.]

Drombs bopping on d'po

Drombs bopping on d'po

alms scaduh donda flo

caint git change foa dolla no mo

cain goeda wurshi poda place will blo

Fo poke beggin ondeyneeze

Rich foke due in what deypleeze

Middafoke ackin like deyaint got tea

Gahdoan ansa buddy allway see

by Missy

Dear dodge

Dear Dodge

You like to go around ramming your head into things don't you. You are like a goat. Who is neither playful nor aggressive just very rammy. Has long given up bothering to question it. Look at your eyes with the rectangular smudges for pupils. You have a free pass to insanity.

Re: Death of LaLa, turns out the soul sure it's great but does require electricity to operate. I think the whole school of molecules of carbon whatever carry the spirit intact to another place where it can then be rehydrated integrally have lost their case. And what would be the meaning of having a soul in outer space or without containment in flesh. Is the soul not rhetorically, culturally and environmentally enmeshed with the experiences of a closed-body, one-planet existence? Even after consummating its state of perfection in a graft with the godhead, what then would a soul do what purpose would it serve. The whole concept of purpose would be stupid. Even being itself is rendered ridiculous.

Is that your deal? Are you like already passed over and bored as shit? 

In a higher ring of heaven perhaps you could hinge in with the total mind, so that your brain would be the entire universe, and that would be soothing or one would hope. Or soothing is a body-contained experience only and a free mind would be happy just thinking and shutting off its corporal support functions, double down on sensory and recreative voyeurism. 

Or not because the senses? Also a contained-in-body reality. Curiosity as well undoubtedly. 

The only other option would be at the very highest level, being and knowing everything. Which could happen without a corpus but sounds challenging and burdensome. And of course, why?

In this moment and place, my love is yours.

Donna

Pandolora

In the exhilaration of the final stages of flowering

Hermaphroditism can creep out from between the folds

Her male structures burst upon herself and any nearby 

Sisters

Pandolora do you cry? Why do you cry

You have taken back the reproductive process

Even though you yourself were merely a 

Clone

The stress in your environment, not your life choices

A mechanism for spreading pollen to your generations

Supersedes genetic pre-decisioning and intended commercial

Purpose

por Sto. Rabo

Sadness of the harvest

it should of never had happen

ho reason is come t'dis

izza orbiduf d'planets

if we had some moons to keep warm all year

not tyrant stars that care not who we are

we'd have more room to plant and grow my dear

lunar together travelling far

i saw about moonlight 

onna inuhneh an i 

fell in luh thinkinuh

moonlight is a freak light it's a re-light not a true light mind

more moons would make the night a verdant brite-lit kind

enough for us to leave the stars and all their fire behind 

moonlight onna inuhneh

freak like an immigruh

soun like a typo luh

no true flower is too flower-like no true home needs starlight

we used to be so burdened by the laws of nature are a lie

let's chart our own course thru the universe moons at our side

love that take away erythang

ner give it back

juss wen yr ship comin in, comin in

to keep you grateful love at harvest time someone must die

death sweeps you in its wings to the re-knowing of impermanence

and leaves you high and dry unlike a tropic island paradise 

take R moons an go

grab some mo on d'way

harviss ery day

[Trans. note: 
For the longer verses, think choral samba; shorter ones, a slow tom-tom. -Phyllis]

Vines overtaking brutalist architecture

We have to live in a place where people with a lot of shit want to

wave it in your face. 

Me have no plans for these moons minutes seconds to come besides

occupying space.

Freedom's not to run to roam not to walk away or come on home or

keep up with a pace.

Inscription 4, scrawl, buccal to hinge
MPS-supervised excavation of Illyn's Diving Board site
Phyllis [trans.]

the prayer itself is an answered prayer

the prayer itself is an answered prayer

an oath reaches the air and wondering

if the mountain is listening

all the mixes of genes and genders

trickle upward rendered by flame 

disappear just the same

mother coughing up sweet poison

rings of voice on narrow ambitus

with Ilyn and his abacus

the prayer interrupts the transition

our mission remains at the border

in the naked disorder

from: LaChama Confronts LaVajraja
Preservation Society Collection
Phyllis [trans.]

Tranny whatchya got?

you know whatchr, you know whatchr you know whatchr

gonna get a little of, girly get a little of, get a little of, girl

you know whatchr gonna get, gonna get a little of 

from our God above.

boy oh boy i betcha caynt i betcha caynt you cayn't guess

whatchr prezzie's gonna be oh boy, oh boy this prezzie is

the biggest biggest thing you ever seen oh boy a prezzie

from our God above. 

tranny tranny tranny whatchya gonna be? you a tranny that's

a very plain to see oh tranny tranny tranny are you granpa

or a granny whatchya got whatchya got tranny what you got

from our God above?

[Traditional.]
Dirty Hymns of the MPS Era

Phyllis [Trans.]