Wednesday, March 21, 2007

"The One-Step Programme" (sort under Self-Help)

"Do you know that you talk too much?"
"Really? You really think so? Because you know I was just try-"
"You see! You're doing it again for Christ's sake!"
...
"Oh..sorry"
"And don't apologise all the fucking time! Jesus, you're so fucking pathetic. You know that? God"
...
"Yeah, I know. But I.." sigh, "I know. I know. It's just..it's just hard sometimes, you know? I don't know.."
"You know what you're problem is? I think you think too much. You have too much going on in that head of yours and so you feel this, um, need..to voice every little thought that comes into it. And that's dangerous. Noone likes that."
...
Another sigh "Well, how do I fix that?"
"Oh that's easy!"
"Yeah?"
"Just pick that thing up. No, yeah that. Okay right, now put it in your mouth"
"Liggh hthimms?"
"Just like that yeah. Now just pull the-"
...

my idea of heaven

dog lath outside being cool / gold tide / being the effective irrational / inhaling / saintly / spirit cannot be able to do and is bent / fat quality smile / can acquire value cheaply / nice damage / 11 years old / the rear section dies / present heaven / does not stumble / use the leather / sacrificed female / the principle of competition / Braisit mind / sky garden / to take the road / remains the size of the time / men hidden / sufficient through debt / which is a character and a liar / a song of praise expressed in this regard / and skin

for john lydon




these are my drugs, this daylight, that female scent, these are my drugs





the window was closing itself everytime he looked out for a beam of any sort of light.
“i am my own tragedy, he said, but one act is missing.”
i could never really be sure which one.
he carried a rusted knife in his jacket, and said the rust kept oxygen in the wounds it could make.
he spoke four languages and never dwelled on one for more than a few sentences.
he believed variety in all things would keep him from settling too fast.
the day i got too deep he did not say a thing but wrote down every feeling for me to keep as an experiment’s record.
“looming over the dusk of all we sense, bits of rashness, chunks of flesh, a sky torched and bled black, we are not heading anywhere but bottoming faster than a sinking ship”
lower than any place, there always was some other layer.
in his dreams the grass was always brown or grey.
he said grey was when he was dying and brown when he was coming back to life.
he kept test-tubes of blood from more than a hundred animal species.
the most precious one was from an eagle he found, a wing broken, dying.
he had to kill it and never really got over it.
“what’s the point in having wings if you’ve got to die when one breaks?”



images by MARIA MCGREGOR COOKE words by WOLF

robert plant helium voice

sophie, 47, switch, w/s, seeks 24/7

jenny, m2f, 51, mids

ho ho clag-dwell. b n b. twatt




They tell me this is the digital age
Cold calculating heart to nullify rage
I hear them say
I hear them cry
Indifferent words on vermillion sky



Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Tamaño natural






Emily Previn
July 14, 1954 - September, 2001

PREVIN, Emily - of Hollywood passed away recently. She was a graduate of Fairfax High School, class of '72. Friends are invited to a service in her honor on Friday, September 19th at 4PM at Fisher & Sons Funeral Home.




Candy, darling

it IS a game, believe me

a monopoly of force

universally ignored by sleep

it departs from the afternoon

in compliance with the flesh which is cancelled

vis-a-vis that cloud bone-dry thing

the document makes the mind disperse, ignore.

tend to wait for the report of the Guide

…………if the flesh of the intangible, which was cancelled…………….

nearly two years

the world ignored

the [guide] public tends to look at the landscape cloud nothing from the company and counterpart.

(5) because that is what is started, though important, _________

the company which is consoled is large, mostly




be careful with that plastic bag mummy, i got it from strangeways





mykindaofparadise




for luka,

broke






flat slow and weeping willow drift
a ladies comb full of dead hairs and dandruff
the monkey climbs the tree
the monkey eats the fruit

the city bleeds into desert sand
my heart fills with wonder and blood and awe
she pukes away her demons
she stands alone and angry

ring a fence around her soul
to keep in the spirit and to drive away a hollow trick
flash eye captures her
attitude like cactus needles

two eyes two fingers and a car
a bus ticket a bust trinket a desire for love
the razor wire keeps
the wolf away and drooling.



tit, tat

sell

sell

sell

sell

sell

sell




crush the day with thoughts of tomorrow



Monday, March 19, 2007

splinteringthesaltwoodbarricade


Some Kind Of Paradise.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Lost and Found

Hungering begets slim wrists [I'm with
slender tongue shards of grass
between lips] triangle silver heart--
blades my words apple chest

noon applique
[eclipse of sunken breasts]

eye-shaped synagogues of old wounds
and yes greendry this spine--a raging
constellation guides the dead to my belly.(95)

Insomnia hurricane a strand of sex tied
up in ribbons redmad rashpeel terror
stooping low to feel the marshes
between quiet crevices of navel.

Sleep in this ear like Bosch and his mad
earpluckers in the valley of triptychs--volcano.

Hunger is not water, just pecks like loon,
the lost then found cocoon of archaeopteryx. (100)

Swabbed larvae, bones [secretly sleep in]
buttons dismembered shadows of mothering
knuckles and spit.One hand writes love
and violence the other adds to it:

sweat and passion. (75)

-------


Cross-cut of texts:

Octavio Paz- A Draft of Shadows
Erica Jong- Loveroot

good lord is that the time?




so often now
the night is the last retreat.
better than drugs,
better than booze,
a whisper of death.
too often now
the dawn is the first hurt.
brittle like shards,
brittle like life,
a horror of waking.



Saturday, March 17, 2007



and with each cubic inch taken
the coal gashes of your hair,
melting, receiving memories from
other sides yet untouched, remind me
of how it all started, you said nothing
was truly a lie, but we managed to
trick our very own wants into
believing here is the key, the one
place that because it matters does
not decay but i could not help
proving you wrong, in dirt now our
lips bare wounds scorning plasters, in
dirt now because we hoped for some
sacred moment gleaming green across
the seas an infinite wisdom that could
either hold us or be held, in dirt now
with not even such thing as a remorse
to make for amends coming late, in
dirt and leaving love to rot.

Friday, March 16, 2007




oi, you CUNT
oi, you CUNT he said
as though that were a bad thing




dischargedTwins











image by stickleback 2 - words by cocaine jesus

dreamwheels 2




..:#Conduje mi palabra con respecto a la frontera oscura, en la luz exacta#


I will be out of the darkness


Black [words]

the tree from a tree, beaten



it is accurate it is accurate to
.
.
.
eat
.
.
.
grass___________




{flying flutter ingly area}



it is not by the desire I lost

-Perhaps, it wrote Lantern




words by emily previn and cocaine jesus

Thursday, March 15, 2007

eleven paths


1- determine that the leaves are unclean

2- you do not wish to remain there

3- As far as I am concerned, you do not want to stay

4- sense the right to enter the heart

5- I was at a low level

6- excretory of them in the face

7- This allows sugar from older brother and vice versa

8- Around this time, when he knew or thought of a new heaven, but heaven?

9- Looking at the place and the sun, i love that it changes in the sand

10- the modus operandi of Christ


words by emily previn and cocaine jesus

 DO YOU EVER WONDER DO YOU EVER WONDER
 DO YOU EVER WONDER qmywehriaidjdkdnmvlfotuyuy kjasio;aer8u jzbnuioaw hchs hhaohasdhcncvzm,lP[[0290293M3 PQPQOPQO I\.\./LSL;';A'['Q[PWPWEOEUIRUTYGFHGJ525171910--MD DFJ /'#]==-00,NMNJHUYGATWWUQ1892-=21457KJIWIQO01010 MJDJFJKJCUNMHDYEWUZXFRATWUUOOP#';LKJHGFDSAQWERTYUIOP[]DO YOU EVER WONDER#/.,MNBVCXZASDFRQEWTYISHJDJNM,OPPPP[1-10892737465MJYGVFEWSXZAQ./'#][=-DO YOU EVER WONDER?DO YOU EVER WONDER AT ALL?00OL,MKIJNUYHBGTRFVFREDCXSWQAZ\12345676-09-DO YOU EVER WONDER 
DO YOU EVER WONDER AT ALL?

dreamwheels




i drove my words over the dark borders,
upon the black tarmacadum of futile hope
like a vehicle bereft of wheels.
headlights grazing the sparse trees,
bats flitter fight into pinpoint light.
a broken shaft in the doomy ink.





Wednesday, March 14, 2007




Karl Germer
Kenneth Grant
Austin Osman Spare




digital pacification


Tuesday, March 13, 2007

gamut B




writing which is the possibility of this and another day


_______ one dream which is prolonged

gliding of that child by mistake, the shellfish gymnastics shriveled those of the jungle

the spring was assembled

……one encircled the abyss….. all the feelings kicking ESSABAR chromium

a long held dream - does not compensate for the decline

malice all road of illusion
broken Brickface

unité des bénédictions passées


the way of the word is not clear

the door tightens - the light/writing stands still


after the paper you restrict the rights right-hand sides of anti-aircraft fire




MY THINKING AND FORCES AS A RESULT OF ALL WALKS OF ILLUSION


write to me and atrophy themselves Cara de Mona

stand without taking any measurement


SUCH A LOSS IS DUE



To ignite/to write
an adjustment with a well-known person in fear of all people


THE EMPTINESS IDEAL




the hand of the boy who has the flower

the backbone of darkness, the twisted wires



SHE WAS YOU




l'innovation pour la brochure au milieu de la vie



the project will rise






words by emily previn and cocaine jesus



(words on blood and gesso )

cement floor




ultra violet washed his hands and put on a gown.
night blades ripped a song that sounded like yesterday.
a tribute band played oasis. it was the bleakest of times.



Monday, March 12, 2007

stone cold - hollow




fingers
tearing up,
shreding the pieces,
a corruption of the heart,
smoke drifting over cold waves.
you never understood that motive,
or the way that chaos ruled my head,
the way that the passion drives the sea.
with the destructive force that governs us
or the inability to steer through any storm
but then again the storm is of our making
and only the rain can placate the blind
who refuse to accept the vision that
rises upon chill marbled slopes.
maybe its just the side effects
of the drug that we took
leaving us inert and
bereft of warmth.
stone cold.
hollow.



reflect




you treat me like cum that stains your sheets.
an irritant rash that you can't scratch.
am i so beneath your contempt?
a vagrant emotion in your heart?
you treat me like shit upon your shoe.
and leave me smeared upon some floor.
am i so disposable to you?


love is just an ice cream cone
that melts when it sees the sun,
so sit and watch those colours run
vanilla pale and strawberry shock,
kaleidoscopic sands that bleed.
sugar turned to rust.
smoke but an ashtray memory.


when heaven bends a brand new sky
i think of then though christ knows why
maybe you will too?
will you think of me at all?

will you think of us at all?
The True nature of the artist - blood or paint?

pointless dogma







Sunday, March 11, 2007

Forgive Me For Asking

When you address me..
do you ever ask yourself
exactly who it is that
you are speaking to?

When you address me..
do you fail to register
the pained expression
on my tired face?

When you address me..
do you ever for a second
consider the consequences
of your sorry actions?

When you address me..
do you even have anything
important to say
in the first fucking place?

When I address you..




tree's hungry fingers tear the dawn from the sky



thefalloficarus

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Woody Stardust




"Do you like girls or boys
It's confusing these days
But Moondust will cover you"



lyrics from the david bowie song 'hallo spaceboy'



What She Told the Therapist

"I uh..I think I just, um, fell off the merry-go-round..you know?"
she said, a cigarette hanging limply by her side.



"After that, I kind of..forgot..how to love myself."
She thought it felt better for saying it, but really it didn't.


art Porcelain Skull, words Richard Eichmann

Untitled

Sometimes the stars are snowdrops,
sometimes they are tears.


But when the tears are snowdrops,
the stars are just stars.


art Porcelain Skull, words Richard Eichmann

Masque of the Red Death

I put my finger in the socket
to try and kill the demons.



Right before the dark crept in
I thought I tasted copper.



art Porcelain Skull, words Richard Eichmann

cloudburst