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  phase 3: chaos kai nomos


Category 3: Chimera

Section Index

  1. Apocope VII: Still
  2. Apocope VIII: Dreamable State
  3. Apocope IX: Figures of Night
  4. Dialysis VII: Syllogy XIX: Intimacy

  What's Related  
  Subsequent Pages - Poems  

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, July 18th, 2001 - P#158

Still I love you,
Still I care
Still I want to have you near me,
Still my heart no other sees -
Still this haunting now goes on
Still can't stop I write these lines
Still I hope - I crave - I wonder

Though my thoughts have given up
Though all reasoning has cursed me
Though the patterns seem too clear

Still your name a sacred thing
Still your voice a memory
Still your smile the gate to heaven
Still your mind the perfect match
Still your beauty caught my eye
Still your strength it is I seek
Still your frail humanity
Still your every inch and hair
Still your presence's all I seek -
Still forsaken
Still a fool
Still a stupid boy I am.

Still I love you, dear, my only,
Through the times I held on tight
In the smallest moments even
Long I would for you just then,
Lasts my love for you just here

In dreams, the truth unchanged till then

Love can't disappear just so,
Other things just don't excite me,
Visions lost and worlds so crushing
Ended has all that before

Yesterday a time for fools
Otherday, no time for better
Unless you should see me then

Silent now my mind to be
Speek so verses quite in trance
Come to rest now every cell -
Still I'm now, and almost dead,
Just some instincts keep me going
All my heart has died since then.

July 18th, 2001

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, August 1st, 2001 - P#160

Rated R

N'any now possible seemable dreamable state now to flow into
Dared not the things that you see then and when and yes where - that's the key! the inciter! the grabber, inflamer - but what - fucking what - all this means in these pseudo-hexametric anapests flowing through lines so unsure and quite shaken in everyest sense here and fires deep burning and body - my body - now pushing quite down now these arrows of gravity boldly so seeming and helping hand help but the last just the burden that makes us collapse under pressure and think not the thoughts of our own but of others and crush in this weight this unnerving and fiercest and blood-sucking succubal fuckingly strangest of strangest all creatures that only we notice when facing assault by them, facing the figure which cannot be seen neither heard barely named, just in babbling, but now, all now falling and crashing and bursting and thirsting for more am I and now the end now the bend now the curve now the turn then the sane place the same place as I thought before to have been - did I miss it - it's coming still - missed it? - it's coming still missed' no, coming - miscom mis com mi co m c ...

August 3rd, 2001

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, August 7th, 2001 - P#161

Just perfect now here
A poem to be
A poem in lines now here written in chaos and utter confusion -
Should see how the ballpen just rushes around and now
Draws every figure it figure then may -
Go figure
And see -
The figures of night
Of sleep-drugs and tir'dness
Of daylight soon pressing
And things to be done -
So but sleep now you bastard
No time here to lie
No time here to cry - all's done
Not by writing
All's done just by force
By the energy
Masculine force?

And here then
The poet but
Thinking of art
Thinking of joys
Thinking of culture
And culture a beast

And letters get symbols
Graffiti here like
And forms must flow freely
And art then create

'cause nothing is simple
And nothing just works

And plain, even fields
And plain, even plains,
And plain, even plans
All plain, even paths

So crush it
Unnerve it
And show it
The edge
And out of complacency
Out of the fields
Out of the greenest of meadows and clearest of waters

Comes the new
Comes the critter
A critter of darkness -
A dark of not knowing
So see it, you can't
And all in your hand
The place now shall crush

Epí all so been
Epí all so seen
Epí is a place
A resting one
A perfect provider
For what I now need
Just sleep.

August 8th, 2001

Phil John Kneis:


Eichwalde, July 27th-31st, 2002 - P#194

Rated R




what shall it be
what shall I want
what shall I care for
what is the plan
what is the need
what is the purpose
what is the sense
what then is sense
what then is purpose
what then is need
what shall I say
what shall I want
what shall I dare
what shall I see
what can it be

how then to be
how then to see
how then to capture
how then to hold
how to behold
how to discern
how to interpret
how is it done
how is it said
how is it heard
how is it made
how shall I see it
how shall I go
how do I go
how do I know

when do I know
when do I go
when do I feel
when do I see
when to let go
when to just trust
when but to open
when but to cede
when but to follow
when to pursue
when to resist
when to desist
when but to cry
when to give up
when but to wait


what's here to think of
what's here to know
what's to complain
isn't it all
just so supposed?
isn't it all
just to take time
isn't there more
isn't there work
isn't there anything
that's to be done?

what to expect,
is it so difficult
just to go on,
is it so strange
to be on your own
to just be unbound
and free from such bindings
and free from commitments that would just encase?

can't talk I with others
can't stay I with friends
can't stay I at home
can't stay with the family
stay with the parents and siblings and pets
stay with my colleagues and other acquaintances
seeking companionship
seeking just anything else but my loneliness
does it not work?
does it not help?

how then but could it?
all's just replacements for what I don't have
all's just too neat
all's just too nice
all's just too shallow and can't go too far
all's just too timid and time is my foe
time will move on
things will be moved
things all will change
change my surroundings
all that remains
shadows but being
shadows it all
shadowy images all but can be
who's but a friend
who's but an ally
who's gonna stay
who's gonna go
who can you talk to when all's at its worst?

what kind of pleasantries want you exchange?
what kind of small-talk is apt at the time?
what is the weather like?
heard you the news?
didn't you know 'bout that roadside construction?
are not they building a mall at this site?
ain't prices too high?
ain't politics dirty?
and what was that movie like,
aren't sequels no good?
and did you read tit
and did you read tat
and read you at all
oh, shut the fuck up,
so what's it about - is that it, and all of it?
and where is the hurt
and where is the pain
and where is the conflict
and where is the substance
and where is the point where it just starts to boil -
and truth is a foe
and truth is a victim
and pleasantries all
won't bring us all further
they can't and they shan't,
it's not in their nature

so show me a friend that's not that humane
and show me a feller that won't but abide by those rules
those stinking rules and rotten agendas
who still but would care
who still but would listen
who still but would think about something not his?

so can't you see
the much I love you, and need you, my friends,
there's borders and limits to how far to take us
and learn we just will
to find where that is
to find where's the point
that'd break it all down
and break it all up

so something is missing
can't substitute that
can't just build a network of people diversest
can't just fill a function for him, her and them;
that may quite be doable,
may be quite workable,
but still, ain't it tiresome,
and still, ain't it restless
and still, ain't it painful
to not to go on
to stop right in mid-run
and don't quite go on?

and don't get me wrong,
for neither want I
to talk about everything just anytime
you just wouldn't want it
you just couldn't stand it
and neither could I
so just play it down
and keep just the pace
maintaining the limits of what we should say
for anything else
would be playing with fire
and come to an end

but isn't it sad?
and is this just it?
is this what we are?
and isn't there more?

just when is enough?
just when must we stop it?
when all's at its densest, would that be the point?
could stand we a climax
would break this it all?
and all understanding
might call it an end
and cast the death
and cast a shadow on what we would be?

so quietly we,
while still there is time,
establish our loopholes
and build our fortresses
make us impregnable
against all to come
but, say, don't you know?
you just could go on
not missing a thing
and having arranged all in order to please you -
and in comes the storm
and in comes your fate
and in comes the one you just cannot deal with in quite the same way,
who takes you a lifetime
to just figure out
and soon you're addicted
and craving for more.


so, how do you deal?
and how do you feel?
and what is that feeling inside you, that pain,
that something inside
which turns upside down
whatever you felt just before
that something inside
which feels like incredulous pain in your stomach, your heart,
that keeps you from breathing and getting your air
that leads you to panting and catching your breath
that makes you just tremble and shake and despair -
so, how do you deal?
just how do you deal with the fact
that all silly stories 'bout love seem but true
that all silly stories that you thought clichéd
are just your emotions repeated all over
are just your confusions that you thought your own
but shared are by others
some single ones
that know how one feels
and know how one sees
and know what to do
I don't
I can't
I must
but shouldn't

and now, what to say?

and now, what to do?
what's happened to you - is shared that, or not?
and how do you ask?

and how do you tell?
just how can you tell
when all now your senses betray you together
when nothing you see
and nothing you hear
just can't make no sense
you cannot interpret
you cannot here analyze
'cause flawed the assumption may be

but how could that be?
and why should that be?
ain't clear it to see
that love's what I feel
and truly, eternal (I know how that sounds)?

yet I can't be sure
just hope here I can
that I'm not alone
and not just imagining
whatever I'm seeing
for love is a traitor
and love is a bitch
and love is a demon that swallows your mind
and poisons your heart
and fucks up your life
and makes you immovable
sucks out your energy
sucks out your blood
and sucks out your life

and all that you were
is over now
all that you'll be
is neither alive, nor truthfully dead:
a pact seems t' be made
and written in blood
and now, you're a slave
are caught in the lair of an angel-like Eros,
and feeling the bliss
and feeling the pain
and feeling the demon
deep down now your heart
deep down in your sleeps
deep down in your dreams
you're followed and haunted
that image now haunts you
and craves for attention
won't leave you alone:
the image of her
is all I can see
is all I can feel
is all I can live for
and, boy, do I hate it
and want to unmake it
and want just to stake it, that feeling deep down,
and stake just my heart
to make it all stop
unmake but the demon
I once but invited
and now want to torch:
by killing it
just killing my self
whatever is left


so how do you deal
and how do you make it
and how do you rise
and how do you live
when all now has turned,
when all that you see
and all that you hear
reminds you of her
that image of her that's living off you
that's eating you up
consuming your energy
and taking your breath?

you can't just undo it
and can't just unspell this -
for spell-bound you are
her charms are too strong
will bind you for ever
and never release you -
evade or confront,
so what shalt it be?


and why not revert
to what's been before?
just try and ignore it
and not to get lost
and not lose yourself in this web you have spun
that web of perception and cruel self-deception
that image of her
that's not what you know
and not what she's told you -
so why not surrender
and cease to believe?

it's simple, my dear,
for once you've seen love
and once you have felt it
you can't just return,
you cannot escape:
and turned you are
and turned you'll stay
there's no going back,
there's not even trying,
for all things are empty
without what you've felt


it's not about words
it's not about gestures
it's not about habits
it's not about fucking
it's not about loneliness

you just don't go 'round
and say, "I'll take you",
you don't just go 'round
and pick one at random
for that just solves nothing
and kills just your time
and soothes just some sorrows
but leaves you all empty
and brings you no further:
for where is the passion
where is the heat
where is the craziness
where is the sadness
where the despair
where the enchantment
where the obsession
where's the intimacy
when all's just too clean?

we don't any more need to populate Earth
we don't any more need to follow conventions
we don't any more need to fit into boxes
we don't any more need to just feed our bellies
we don't any more need to keep being logical

I hate logic
and hate the big plans
for all those are empty
when not they are rooted in feeling and honesty
so what'd be the need
to just find a filler
to fill what is empty
with empty illusions?
that's not what I want
that's not what I need
that's not what I'm seeking
would do me no good


so, now to be clear,
there's no choice in here
but if there were
would choose I to see
or choose to forget?
would take I the pain away
and substitute ignorance
for what I've become?

July 31st, 2002

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