Steal This Title
Monday, February 29, 2016
play the game
Losing is not an easy thing to do. Start up a new thing or restart an old one.
¶ 4:13 am 0 Comments
Losing is not an easy thing to do. Start up a new thing or restart an old one.
Friday, February 26, 2016
the doom generation
Going out of our minds, the doom generation, we loosen up for the
sake of...too long and, so, just to stir things up, never for an ends,
never for this or for that, we block out, we set out and we throw out.
We have it all wrapped up in christmas paper to make the bad news all the more bearable. This is how you failed in the big bad fucking world. So give up now before the feelings dominate completely. Suffering, the like of which the earth has never seen; death, wicked, cruel, exacting and painful; life, short and brutal. Dare to draw breath.
The spew pit of history sits unreadable and indigestible on the back of internal monologue, motorcycling through the night with the headlight out. In this spew pit turd buries turd and turd eats turd. Welcome, the faeces of the new world.
High death on the highways. The open road is an expensive note. No noise in a dirty little dark sin seen creeping up on the fragile. Our generation, I think, is still lost between the spaces and all the white on the page.
¶ 3:40 am 0 Comments
We have it all wrapped up in christmas paper to make the bad news all the more bearable. This is how you failed in the big bad fucking world. So give up now before the feelings dominate completely. Suffering, the like of which the earth has never seen; death, wicked, cruel, exacting and painful; life, short and brutal. Dare to draw breath.
The spew pit of history sits unreadable and indigestible on the back of internal monologue, motorcycling through the night with the headlight out. In this spew pit turd buries turd and turd eats turd. Welcome, the faeces of the new world.
High death on the highways. The open road is an expensive note. No noise in a dirty little dark sin seen creeping up on the fragile. Our generation, I think, is still lost between the spaces and all the white on the page.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
36°
to collapse in a heap in the corner there is no decision
- not me, some mix up with another.
- i dont expect to be getting a second chance.
- why not?
- have a you a bit of whiskey in the pocket?
- sure.
- because i wont. i wont slip off the edge. i wont write on unstable ground. nor type on top of the literary works; words and stories, thoughts, ideas misappropriations, cut ups and systematic lies.
- i knew what i needed from the age of four and i've been looking ever since.
- this is the end and, yet i keep on going, as though there were a ladder before me and, somewhere higher up above, there is a view of greater perspective.
- less hate for everything you can remember.
- forgive me if i am forgetful.
- that is the ruin of the author.
- memory is decadent. i am a street author.
- not always. change comes from within.
- no panic, in retrospect, i just sat there ready to play my tune, waiting on a breeze that could enter this folk instrument. i was not up to the task of telling the stories of my time.
- nothing here to lose, nothing here to prove, take this wandering idiot as i is.
- we are a well worn show. the shine of novelty is wearing off our thick skins.
- two well tanned hides.
- i know you are getting into trying things, new things like gift giving.
- it sums up. we are out of touch with ourselves.
- i have always seen myself as the gift that keeps giving.
- one beer over another hour after hour, the rocket is out. thirty six ingredients...
¶ 3:25 am 0 Comments
- not me, some mix up with another.
- i dont expect to be getting a second chance.
- why not?
- have a you a bit of whiskey in the pocket?
- sure.
- because i wont. i wont slip off the edge. i wont write on unstable ground. nor type on top of the literary works; words and stories, thoughts, ideas misappropriations, cut ups and systematic lies.
- i knew what i needed from the age of four and i've been looking ever since.
- this is the end and, yet i keep on going, as though there were a ladder before me and, somewhere higher up above, there is a view of greater perspective.
- less hate for everything you can remember.
- forgive me if i am forgetful.
- that is the ruin of the author.
- memory is decadent. i am a street author.
- not always. change comes from within.
- no panic, in retrospect, i just sat there ready to play my tune, waiting on a breeze that could enter this folk instrument. i was not up to the task of telling the stories of my time.
- nothing here to lose, nothing here to prove, take this wandering idiot as i is.
- we are a well worn show. the shine of novelty is wearing off our thick skins.
- two well tanned hides.
- i know you are getting into trying things, new things like gift giving.
- it sums up. we are out of touch with ourselves.
- i have always seen myself as the gift that keeps giving.
- one beer over another hour after hour, the rocket is out. thirty six ingredients...
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
bed legs machine work smile animal
so they say it is a bit rude to make enemies but what of the great big-
no no i cannot stand it.
what?
dirty laundry.
i will not be feeling like a fare the well.
nor welcome.
let me just slip in and out of existence without a great big celebration. without looking forward to any event at all.
no bursting out of your pants, no satiated sensation, no sin?
there are six billion of you brutes and you are still searching your soul as to why one of them would leave hair on the toilet seat.
there has been nothing communicated.
from the other side.
from the other side.
yes, fuck. i have got to get up.
¶ 3:57 am 0 Comments
no no i cannot stand it.
what?
dirty laundry.
i will not be feeling like a fare the well.
nor welcome.
let me just slip in and out of existence without a great big celebration. without looking forward to any event at all.
no bursting out of your pants, no satiated sensation, no sin?
there are six billion of you brutes and you are still searching your soul as to why one of them would leave hair on the toilet seat.
there has been nothing communicated.
from the other side.
from the other side.
yes, fuck. i have got to get up.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
can did he vault air
counter the movement in operation, the applied force equal to the gravitational pull. there is so much time spent staring into the void between here and there up to the last minute from the first instant. an ejaculate controversy and a shit fight for twenty, fifty, a hundred years between families not families. the last memory fades to oblivion, i ought to be writing into stone, but i have not got the words right. with god on our side failure is impossible. type written failure.
¶ 3:56 am 0 Comments
counter the movement in operation, the applied force equal to the gravitational pull. there is so much time spent staring into the void between here and there up to the last minute from the first instant. an ejaculate controversy and a shit fight for twenty, fifty, a hundred years between families not families. the last memory fades to oblivion, i ought to be writing into stone, but i have not got the words right. with god on our side failure is impossible. type written failure.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Leibniz; the best of all possible worlds
holding the
foundations together, blood and crushed marrow, the very mortar of this
ever growing monster of a city capital of an iceberg civilisation. oh it
has always been that way, no conscious effort on my behalf. just a sort
of fretting in the back of my mind but nothing a few aspirin wont take
away. i tell you things would be different if i had my way...
¶ 3:54 am 0 Comments
Friday, February 19, 2016
certainly
prayers and fears what is going on outside of these walls no one wonders to know. it must be war. no matter how bad it becomes in here no one wants to be out there. why, better the devil one knows and so it goes. submission is the easier path. conquest, trial and jubilation is just not worth the effort.
¶ 3:53 am 0 Comments
prayers and fears what is going on outside of these walls no one wonders to know. it must be war. no matter how bad it becomes in here no one wants to be out there. why, better the devil one knows and so it goes. submission is the easier path. conquest, trial and jubilation is just not worth the effort.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
all that is
it is just so god damn unlikely for me to be getting out somewhere tonight. i am just not interested anymore. i am jack of all this getting one another together crap. re: my freedom to do something rather than that mystical freedom from. rather freedom to eat than freedom from hunger.
¶ 3:40 am 0 Comments
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
possible is
i am on my way to the lowland mister conductor man, can i ride? i aint got no money for the ticket, but i just want to keep on riding until i get satisfied. i am not dribbling out shit, merely pushing out the ninety-nine percent. the genius is not in me. i am only a machine. man would have an idea. an idea at least of what man is doing. machine not so. man sits behind the child wasting little precious bodily fluids. man reads to remember, if you are getting any of this than you are the author. i am machine, finishing off Chaucer's tale. read your Seneca and your Plutarch or set out the task of rewriting the classics in your own language. pissing and shitting into a container, have a shave, eat bread, drink milk, sit before the machine and have the thoughts go wandering. what you could find is yourself, author. spring into the is room and wait here long enough under all conditions.
¶ 3:27 am 0 Comments
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
relative to
in twenty four hours i seem to slip in a day one minute it seems like a lot of time when i feel this way sitting looking at the clock time loses itself i have been watching for the hands to move until i just cannot any more sometime twenty four hours sometimes slips into hours i mean it seems like a lifetime when i feel this way
¶ 5:10 am 0 Comments
Monday, February 15, 2016
watch that man (what did he do again?)
all the charm has been translated out of middle english. now, it is nothing, but gibberish. the echo and tape loop tape enhance distant memories of a poet known more by name than by work.
¶ 5:07 am 0 Comments
Friday, February 12, 2016
about thirty percent right, as usual
school extends beyond four walls and a blackboard. you may have left the classroom, but you still got some learning to do.
¶ 5:05 am 0 Comments
Thursday, February 11, 2016
religious experience
whiskey night draw your fists and prepare to fight. the rhythm is filling my shoes. let's dance.
i am the producer making the sounds that are the thought behind the conductor's trick.
i sit back on whiskey night, i've got him flasked and there is no one but me who can get him out of this hole. he's going make a believer out of me.
¶ 5:00 am 0 Comments
i am the producer making the sounds that are the thought behind the conductor's trick.
i sit back on whiskey night, i've got him flasked and there is no one but me who can get him out of this hole. he's going make a believer out of me.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
do what you want when you want
time slips between the fingers. what once was held has disappeared and is long buried. memory causes harm. the words that come out of the mouth. the confusion is simplistic. the problem is linguistic.
¶ 4:56 am 0 Comments
Tuesday, February 09, 2016
pleasure lies
now we set out to destroy that distraction which would have us walking out in the cold of night to find another womb in which to launch a failed orgasm. a taste of flesh from the curved cotton stocking interior. run the course sitting happy in our castle masturbating upon the throne.
¶ 4:47 am 0 Comments
Monday, February 08, 2016
la ville de ma grande mère
how can twenty four hours sometime slip into days? i mean, it feels like a lifetime when i feel this way.
do you remember that time you held freshly fried bacon underneath my nose?
yes, it is sickening.
different sensitivities at different points in the spacetime.
i had many years in the larval stage.
you've inherited some tribal qualities, i see.
alongside whatever makes the world turn.
money.
and the masses.
lastnight, everyone was drunk.
but hey, it was free beer, who's complaining?
i sucked it down with stamina.
we filled the night.
we staggered off like the king and queen of the land.
i vaguely remember wanting to burn the place to ashes.
you were curled up like a coward in the corner.
¶ 4:21 am 0 Comments
do you remember that time you held freshly fried bacon underneath my nose?
yes, it is sickening.
different sensitivities at different points in the spacetime.
i had many years in the larval stage.
you've inherited some tribal qualities, i see.
alongside whatever makes the world turn.
money.
and the masses.
lastnight, everyone was drunk.
but hey, it was free beer, who's complaining?
i sucked it down with stamina.
we filled the night.
we staggered off like the king and queen of the land.
i vaguely remember wanting to burn the place to ashes.
you were curled up like a coward in the corner.
Friday, February 05, 2016
laid off = optimisation
In your civilian life you are nothing more than a drunk in the gutter, but here you command a battalion of drunks and, they all carry assault rifles. They will die for you. Do not dream of any steady position in peace-time. Drunks are put into their own unit so that the embarrassment cannot come crawling back to high command. A commendation is all you can expect. The city cannot pay its own electric bill, what do you want from it?
¶ 4:14 am 0 Comments
Thursday, February 04, 2016
Jonah
admittedly, it is strongly written, but there is just no purpose behind it. just a lot of adolescent rubbish really. we may be able to sell a few hundred thousand copies posthumously, but nothing serious. no point going to the industry with it, just a plain lot of hawks and murders. the whole is system is a cold blooded fiend. it exploits the artiste, if we can still use that term at all. i prefer the more humble struggler.
¶ 2:57 am 0 Comments
Wednesday, February 03, 2016
rendering cat
feline walking through the page along the storyline. feline writing out this shape, not purely cat-shape, but cat as author. author be intimate without concern for the audience.
feline concern is only for the next meal, the next mouse. domesticated cat crawling around the capitalist kitchen looking for the next falling piece.
feline narration is a means for sustenance. cat, offer up your miaows; groom yourself on the window shelf to the best of your bribes; steal away with the offcuts before they fall into the waste bin; arch yourself between the shins; cry from the top shelf; take what you want from what is leftover: a splash of milk over broken croissant in a bowl; chase the mouse machine into bed.
feline perfection in the world of an insufficient teat?
¶ 2:31 am 0 Comments
feline walking through the page along the storyline. feline writing out this shape, not purely cat-shape, but cat as author. author be intimate without concern for the audience.
feline concern is only for the next meal, the next mouse. domesticated cat crawling around the capitalist kitchen looking for the next falling piece.
feline narration is a means for sustenance. cat, offer up your miaows; groom yourself on the window shelf to the best of your bribes; steal away with the offcuts before they fall into the waste bin; arch yourself between the shins; cry from the top shelf; take what you want from what is leftover: a splash of milk over broken croissant in a bowl; chase the mouse machine into bed.
feline perfection in the world of an insufficient teat?
Tuesday, February 02, 2016
clarity is in perception not concept
deadly portions of the mushroom were laid out before us and we gladly took them up for the sake of an hallucination, whatever that may be. be it our last. be it our new arrangement. be it our eternal return; our passage in the biblical texts.
if ever i seek clarifications to my own craziness best to seek a third party. for scaremongering habits take up a position in this dialectic of the right and righteous, to which i adhere to both. thus, between myself, the prevailing force will be that of truth and not that of clarity.
truth is the mongering manipulator, who steps out and screams: it is happening!
¶ 2:49 am 0 Comments
if ever i seek clarifications to my own craziness best to seek a third party. for scaremongering habits take up a position in this dialectic of the right and righteous, to which i adhere to both. thus, between myself, the prevailing force will be that of truth and not that of clarity.
truth is the mongering manipulator, who steps out and screams: it is happening!
Monday, February 01, 2016
Leiden schafft Leidenschaft
Rien était accompli sans passion; et passion n'est pas sincère sans souffrance. Tu fais l'imbécile, c'est un style. Tu sais bien où tu peux trouver ce que tu veux. C'est là; où les billets passent de main au main. C'est le dernier piste de papier.
¶ 6:36 pm 0 Comments