Lover 0.2

– Hello. Bukhari’s hadeeth are a collection of stories relating to the life of the Prophet Muhammad. Within the Sunni practice of Islam, they form an important religious corpus of practice and law, secondary only to the Qur’an itself. With the rise of the Wahabi school of thought in post colonial Saudi Arabia, these stories have been prominent in that revivalism of an authentic practice of the Islamic faith.

With me to discuss Bukhari’s hadeeth are Immanuel Moon, Professor of Hidden Economics at the School of Oriental Sexual Linguistics, Musa Qamarbayev II, head of the Tailorite Sufi Order, and Madam Sal Rif Erance, doyen of a thousand erotic dreams.

Madam Sal: Anyone got any more chambers?

Moon: It’s a subtle and difficult thing.


Lover 0.1

He entered the bed, quietly. 4:30am, Friday. Didn’t want to disturb her but she was. Waiting for him

– insert dialogue, she said, for the entrance of your character into the novel that is subjected to an imminent existential choice …

– oh yeah, what kind?

– i dunno but just … oh you know what? Here comes the protagonist now, you can. Ask him yourself ..

M: Hey, what’s up?

– Yo, I wanted to know. What are you hiding?!?!?!?!

M: Come with me. See here, the ring of the serpent/prism. And tRod of Skyreal: but hey give it to newbies all the time, that dumbass HR tech, yknow?


You can’t help it. Each romantic scene. From you first kiss with May behind the parking lots of Monash, To your first real kiss, one that channeled genuine abandonment, with Gula, where lips gave way to life together. Too those in between, the hint to your flavour, the color to your character:Natalie, who hated her body because her mother was a model for the Melbourne papers, and felt so insecure. Only really left that complex those hours they got high and listened to his tunes. To those in between, the hint to your flavour, we zoom in upon Debra, who taught him tarot, to catholic Kate, who introduced him to skinny jeans and the idea that his PhD in Logic, actually recited, might make a woman come; to trust fund Tee, fuck wbat a mess she was, yet reminded him that everyone basically believes in him, believes whatever the fucck comes out of his mouth, to Trey, zero mess, the vacuum of flavour leading her into devout introspection under corporate gaze, to She, my final African arrival, lives in a real world, one of life and death, of being right now, no alternative. She, Gaia complex: the earth beneath each. Each a Rachel/Leah to her. The privilege of Leah, she had.

Ladies, do your dance

Fresh hip hop demo from the F.O.D. crew!!!


live the dream

in between

the real failure going down on her

angle mania put a frame on ya

guilty mama taste like cream mona-mona-monadic


me likey …

brutal bite me

shine brightly

do it rightly

in the middle of the journey hatey pass me

hatey pass me?

you the dumb you the deaf you the sightless ones

we the tounge we the FOD crew

then again i thought you knew

let me reacquaint the hood with this riotous rule.

he’s arisen and the show is beginning

but you’re wondering how it be beginning

why you weep when he’s just winning?

majestestic sign dual your sister singing

so slap me bitch it’s your glass ceiling

how we gotta be this awful now darling?

ring it out, let it ring out:

final resting place — brooding patience.

semiotic b boy might crumble in face lekky line of light

lekky line of light

ladies do your dance

all around you parade

ladies do your dance

all around me parade

face formed fiction

fashion glass and light

your repair pursue taming the new

deadly line of sight

we be loving like love is our eden

no reason

they just heathen

between them

us two

with azuriry conversate late

by ciggies wine and cush

by ciggies wine and cush

i love it how you do that babe

blake be or bust boo

i love it how you shake that babe

snake seen into you

i love it how you shake that babe

sugar me with lust boo


Apologia 3.1

When you search, you stall, you stumble, you stand up again, you repeat. And sometimes you see. Greedy for sight, then, you repeat it harder. 

Anglo American pragmatic philosophy was compared to an archipelago by Deueze … to be honest, I cannot recall why, I’m guessing it was something to do with the geological historicity of its sublimated ethic or something.

I’d say the search is also an archipelago, each age of sight an island situated according to a geological, not genealogical, matter of Time. Between these islands, the ocean, sublimation itself, positioned explicitly as such, embodying the moments of stalling, stumbling, standing as the identity/totality/monad governing the first and second heavens of the soul’s progress.

Apologia 2020

i apologise

i be running with the forces

i be lounging in the fortress

i be running with the forces

i be lounging in the fortress

like twenty four seven up on tv

me be the epitome

love the execution fluid & motion

she’s down no controlling bring it around

beneath the breast behind my brow

behind the the mask below the sound

my sound sick ill flavour cali green

my rhyme so slick ill demeanor i’m ashamed

of my brain

my brain too id overflow to ego

my brain too id overflow to ego

i apologise!

i’m like a 99 name of god put it down on thee

i’m an overkill exec million dollar fee

i know i failed you baby

i’m sorry

went left when meta went ego

went and studied in the prayer house below

into the darkness of night

your delight

by his might

survey my sum, prov-enance insight

being be burned by the shuddering to right

being be burned by the shuddering to right

cause i’m not like the fiction that i write

though i write

though i write

cause i’m not the stories that they write

though they write

though they write