The Alchemist's Archives

Transitional Greed


songs dovetailed within a season
like shadows painted on windows
these suspects of rotational shifts
slow dance under a traitorous sun

spaces between the wilting leaves
span lifetimes of rapacious fevers
rouge dreams distilled and crashed
as pervasive and ignorant as night

let me sleep pleads a lost autumn
only a summer of echoes remains
my colors do not abide your music
your music does not abide my rest

but what darkness seethed a reply
bitter and sharp as February snow
such that daylight trembled in fear
reserved for its few precious hours

abide? answered the smiling dark
to be music traipsed upon dreams
deserves such desired bureaucracy
as frivolous threads in weary turns

thus volleys returned as unheeded
neither deigning to concede defeat
the shadows continue to lengthen
while songs tuck themselves away

autumn’s dreams are ever distilled
as transitions feverish in blossoms
sway gently under the deceitful sun
while their night looks on languidly

Post-Exam Weekend


The scent of dead leaves is dry and dusty,
like forgotten attic stacks of cracked paperbacks
waiting for curious grandchildren.
My tea is woody and roasted
like hazelnuts scattered before an old cast iron stove.

Time has finally crawled away—gone on holiday
to the orchard, content to nag the rotting
apples and pears. Perhaps the Sexton water
pregnant with salmon
hosts our dearly departed father time,
chuckling with every tick, tock, and chime.
Good riddance, old hag—layman’s sweat rag
and sad excuse to leave again. My salute
couldn’t be more sarcastic.

.age of becoming


I lead her hoarse whisper, her fury-laden hands
to the pith of soft circles
a new instalment in the I AM FREE series
and I gag the trembling piccolo cry
stifling the onslaught of pitchforks

And her mouth splits in astonishment to match the chasm
that once took her, that sliced her
and she takes in the sight of the formidable
vows to make herself like them
to grow a carapace

to carry her burden to glory

© Agnieszka Mauch



How can so much heat
indispensably thrive within me?

When I am combustion, roving
steam engines, brick faced factories
belching out black soot

A thousand race horses could
not compete with the devil in me;
they have no command over what
drives this inheritance of amour

This slithering of the viper’s hiss
which begets my skin to disintegrate,
to flake apart as if I were nothing

It is as if, what is in me pools
or I become as the whirlpool, lowering
and lowering into an eternal abyss

It is a menacing and it is
chaotic; and I smell sulfur
all around me, as I smile as
a child in heaven

A head spins, the eyes roll
and the mouth is left agape
in a dance hall of sin
and decadence

while my conscious whispers;
My dear, my poor, poor, poor
pitiful dear; you are
the biggest of fools….

is just

When you’re watching Doctor Who and you have no idea what the hell is going on until the climax of the episode, and you say, “Of course that’s supposed to happen, even if I still don’t understand, but yes I get it!” I’ve always treated good poetry that way.

A Year on Aeaea


A grey dawn and our last ship landed
with Odysseus at the helm,
the second year Poseidon handed
to drift within his realm;

we were captured by Polyphemus
but battered down his wooden shack,
our cunning King to better us
dug out his eye for a snack,

then with his dagger carved the name
for all the watching gods to note,
his father thinks we’re all the same;
I’ve eight years left to float.

So there we landed, pebble shore,
thick woods behind it stand and glare,
do not look up, do not look down,
a thousand eyes are there!

We walked for miles and miles and miles,
I’d forgotten where we were going,
I lifted my head to her kind smile
and her dark hair flowing.

‘follow me over the river
I’ll give you bread, I’ll give you wine’
Let me follow forever and ever!
She turned me to a swine.

A hundred other pigs were with me
we rolled in wet mud all the hour,
and quite soon I saw his Majesty
giving the witch a flower.

Twelve months I watched him in her house,
he must have seen the trouser pile
when downing beer and scoffing grouse.
Our King in all his guile!

(via poetry-and-insomnia)

Pocket Watches and Rabbit Holes


She is the amalgamation
of anomalous phenomena - hovering
like pen over paper, fingers over keys
in a matrix of infinite potential
trapped in the eternal instant of a second
in a closet of clocks, of misperceived hands
that tick along to the misguided metronome,
the tune of life playing a melody that burns her ears
causing her to retreat into negative spaces
below the threshold of noise while floating above it
in a place much quieter in volume,
speaking in louder voices still
that call her in to their sacred song of silence
only solitude can play
and here she wishes she could stay:

where the rabbit is the watch’s thief
running rapidly towards a mysterious cause
one she follows deeper and deeper
until she is completely lost
in any sense of direction and of self
but it keeps her off the shelf and so she stays
lays, under shade of the tree
because down the rabbit hole
everything behaves differently.

WE ARE ALL OF US “WEREWOLF” : conversational, another one : IMPORTANT. [collab. with Mr Hoover]


i could just be another shitty atheist
        with his opinions,
i am a nihilist btw
my own brand of nihilism
that admits to a sort of god-type
               or is open to it
i am indifferent about my opinions in other words
they are at best ‘there’ and at worst obstacles

a god believing nihilist? please feel free to expound at will

          well i don’t wanna be that Nietzsche guy
i go by the gut but i have to polish my intuition. my gut, my intuition, is like something i can use later maybe? my gut says that something is off about denouncing god totally

it is nihilist
because i am indifferent … 
   i denounce my selfhood. the ultimate questioner questions his own questioning or makes room for that somewhere. i guess i believe in a sort of god-force/liminal reaction, that is my nihilism-ultimate. coincidence-as-intention. if it is coincidental it is fated to be meaningful. which is absurd and beautiful and makes no sense. so i put my faith there. that is where the bias goes [?] etc. MUST EXPAND

right, i kind of feel the same way

a dirty bias yes yes yes yeh.
       my golden truth
is otherness,
other shoes

yes, the self is an unavoidable bias

   i disagree,
the mind can practice
and it starts with polishing the gut
my intuition is not my selfness
as i have no will to order it
BUT. I do have the will to question it


question it to the point of accordance of intellect with gut … 
                             so i keep my intuition in check while also relying on it totally, which is total ‘servant rules the master’
like brain and body etc. MUST EXPAND

but your “gut” it could be argued, is nothing but conditioning from the stages of life that you were reared in, that you had no conscious control over, that made you the product that you now are

                                 - - - well,
that’s where the indifference comes in … 
            doubt … 
                 questioning - - -
                             maybe i was conditioned to question some things but not everything,
        i am teaching myself to remain elastic in all respects
reject your ‘individual’ opinion and open your eyes to all sides of everybody’s argument-

were you conditioned to question some things? i was not conditioned to question anything

               -which is probably why at some point i felt it so important to question  everything,
                well if i wasn’t then it’s pretty weak what i was conditioned not to question, whatever the hell that is!

I’m a libra : : : I’m always open to all sides of everybody’s argument

- - - which is also why it is impossible to ever come to any sound conclusions-
                                                   -well, i experienced atrocities that reinforced my belief in never trusting selfness, opinions, bias

yea sorry i just dropped an astrology reference btw..

no no
zodiac is cool !!
         my good friend is very spiritual !!
she has tiger stones and shit she wears around her neck
                   i was conditioned by the diversity of my environment to appreciate anonymity maybe,
                              by seeing all the sides all the time
after awhile it seems preposterous to have your own - -
                   which also could be an action of the ego nonetheless, that i understand this leads to an open mind. but i do not desire an open mind for the sake of my ego, or preening my feathers, i just want to know the truth because the untruth pisses me the fuck off

(nodding understandingly)

comprende? lol

no see, like: i would say that any goal of attaining some state of “open mindedness” could never be ego driven bc if it were that state could not be reached

yeas - -

           i was more interested in what you said about not having your own opinion tho

that is the crux

in completely disregarding the self, what becomes of thee?

someone way too open who is also careless

you’re just some anchorless collection of particles drifting aimlessly around the universe, subjecting yourself to the will of others? to be used and potentially taken advantage of … … . 

my ace in the whole is it is ALL the others
               and little to do with the will of a clique - - -
bc i have no self, i am ‘subject’ to nothing
having a gf complicates this
          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - and yes
i have been taken advantage of my whole life
and by the immanence of ego-reactions
            finally i rose up blindly
and fucked over J—-.
                 who will not speak to me etc. MUST EXPAND
i took advantage of someone undeserving completely
hence the carelessness . .
           i believe you can deny self only so far. it probably will rise up blindly. and then you do something you do not support-

but the way you fucked over J—-, that was a self serving act of a reckless and unharnessed ego, no?

-that isn’t YOU
you heard about it
that’s exactly it really
                  the ego rose up,
because it had been sleighted


moreover i never did indulge self esteem which meant it suffered
                            you do careless things when you reject selfishness, you get really selfish later over nothing

            moderation my friend . . - - the ever triumphant ceaseless cry of the libra -, the middle path my friend. in all things, everything, all the time. life is homeostasis. just nature trying to balance itself out

i feel so shitty about that whole scenario.
i am a libra believe it or not. anyway, like - -

but uhhma giving the self something to sustain upon is not selfish [?] feed it discreetly. we can’t take care of anything or anyone else if we can’t take care of ourselves first-

im a perfectionist, i assume ‘all the way to my core i must be etc”

-therefore the ultimate act of selfishness is the deliberate denying of the self bc in that scenario, you are depriving everyone else in your life and the rest of the world around you of the gifts you have to share

                quite so , , ,
    this is where polishing the gut comes in
i cannot be dispassionate in every case, nor could you
         anybody . . -
                                 -so a part of indulging selfishness really is like, a means of controlling your ego, thru an objective means of ‘feeding it’ like it was a chore

right, yes

                      i polish what i think comes naturally in order not to presume anything, but understand that the self, ego, will, is rash
                      and i have spent too much time trying to see myself to the core as rational as i will have to always feed this baffling, obscene rashness

so get it taken care of!, then get to the real work of working with its demands. to make YOURS less and the concern for others more

               well i have
a lot of working on myself
if nothing else i am clean , , ,
                                                and have been for something like half a year, with two discontinued slipups
             i drank a couple beers one or two nights bc i was stressed
remove that anndddd - -, I’ve been totally sober since i wanna say march?

that’s fine man if it didn’t lead to anything worse

na i like being clean
i need it
you were right
i remember we talked about this in person once ago

what about sobriety?

… yes,
or just your position on drugs
which is healthy -

            - my position differs from most i think. our positions on sobriety are different bc holds a different ethical value to you vs me

i am a drug addict. you, no. and you seem pretty laid back

            i am,
but i live being torn in every direction

what do you mean?

           i see the reasoning for every position that can be taken. so there is never any right or wrong

well that is what we’ve been talking about! go on

     - -  - - - - - -   - -   - - theres just preferences, opinion, conditioning, bias, etc.. it’s living in a world of gray. of vast, ceaseless ambiguity. damn i should write existential novels but im also dibilitatingly lazy. and self pitying as of late. which is the most disgusting vice there could ever be in anyone

I’ve always wondered about the etymology with that

         i think it’s largely conditional - - of course, i have only my own case to work with

              pitiless however is not the opposite of pitiful, but pitiful people should not be pitied all the same
               just in terms of the word itself. pitiless is usually associated with cruelty but the virtue of removing pity is good

all these different paradoxi , , ,
pity is passive aggressive hate reserved for scum
'oh i pity you'
na you don’t
you wanna say something that says ‘you’re too insignificant to hate’

                          that’s true, -
but even that is a worse-
        -jab or w/e,
    so, you do hate them bc u want to use cutting language
                hurt them etc. MUST EXPAND

but it’s not true if the emotional reaction that is pity is followed up by the active practice of helping that which you perceive to be pitiful

those who deserve true pity are not pitiful, but
             like, clear pity, pure of intention
     like, i ‘have pity’ for those suffering in Syria or children starving across the world because it’s a shitty hand to be dealt, monstrous and out of    control besides out of their control

anything pure of intention is.. well, beautiful

    agreed !! !
that was the whole experiment with removing ego
             indifferent to my opinions
to arrive at purity of intention
i don’t think I’ve had an ulterior motive in my life
i have never premeditated an evil act
              or lied to stomp somebody down especially
          but as was said this means my acts of selfishness or evil are ever-blinder and without reason

right. like bc you’ve attempted to subdue them, they’ve boomeranged back tenfold

which i can only conclude means that there is a humanly part of people that derives fulfillment from evil or destruction even if it is impulsive and    reasonless , - - - - - - -

but don’t you see the paradox of your ego removal experiment? it was you INTENTION to arrive at a state of being pure of intention..

that’s exactly what i mean
    it is ironic to a T
in other words
the balance
   is this:
feed the arbitrary preening
  be selfish
we are all werewolves and have no choice. we have to deal
                with uh our own personal full moon , , ,
so feed ego in a safe zone
because pure intention is impossible

so this experiment is actually something that i can use to help people…
holy shit


the liquidation verdicts
elsewhere.  Theadvancement madefostering sublime antiquated balm noted rigorously curvy w/ disdain from the hypochondriumtrams asserting theunderbelly’s dusklymphoma. All the wayout cannot withhold thedill restitution lastsepulchred in addressingBob Kaufman/       idyllicallymagistrates ipso facto syncopated fuse boxes forwindow ledgesconstrained.  Sycophantic ape, overtly aperture-curedlimb, high priestess.  Offered lightly.  & musk presents us w/ the jest aurorablue print, its architectonicfridge magnets hollowedpeacefully executeddense scope.
art: Joan Miro, The Circus House (1927)    


the liquidation verdicts

elsewhere.  The
advancement made
fostering sublime antiquated
balm noted rigorously
curvy w/ disdain
from the hypochondrium
trams asserting the
underbelly’s dusk
lymphoma. All the way
out cannot withhold the
dill restitution last
sepulchred in addressing
Bob Kaufman/       idyllically
magistrates ipso facto
syncopated fuse boxes for
window ledges
constrained.  Sycophantic
ape, overtly aperture-cured
limb, high priestess.  Offered 
lightly.  & musk presents 
us w/ the jest aurora
blue print, its architectonic
fridge magnets hollowed
peacefully executed
dense scope.

art: Joan Miro, The Circus House (1927)