Vacana of Between
i.
the sky becomes a
holographic swirl blanket
when the Pan fries the clouds
opticon glares scraping the sky-
poles of the Great
his big eye and wooden beard
covers the sky
with raving shadow
can I see the sky
without rejecting the pan-
veda
opticon
eye
O spirit of Between
ii.
the ground becomes a
whiteout folk-shadow blanket
when mob scatter the streets
lights shroud from drooping
poles of the Little
their giant hands and rusty mind
spin the cogs
with steed-like hooves
can I see the ground
without rejecting the Mob-
yajna
herd
tongue
O spirit of Between
iii.
..The 'great' and the 'little'
show their arrogance in the bargain
established they stagnate
in codes and conventions they cement
traditions that
organise and
catalogue
our universe,
before we can touch the light
beyond the tunnel of perception
the price-list is made available
the inventory
is printed and copyrighted
we have named
all the stars
the great and the little
show their ignorance
O spirit of Between
I am not name
I am not
the names given
names taken
embraced
rejected
I am my names
you can not
say the name
of the idea that lies
between
I said the names
external & internal
life & dreams
death & change
you are not your
name
I am your name
except in
moments
when you become your name
once named
you can be ism
all can be ism
all mob ism
i am ism
society takes us
by the hand
groin & spine
wrapping soma in blue
ribbons; techno coloured seams
and a red cross –
stitch
i am names
dancing down concrete slab
alleyways with perfect
4 x 3 windows (= 6 ά²)
is ά just an incomplete chain of eternity or an hour glass
pouring its sand into nothingness ? abyss
does it have an Aeon‘s hands collecting fragments
in time of being ground from stone tablets of thought?
in moments you become a name do you live in moments ? moments are sublime
like watching endless horizon from the highest peak
as gusts of uninhibited winds threaten to push you off the steep face of a mountain
Name = Ism
transient the brown leaf paints its face green
Inverted cripple
surfaces in the ebb
ocean retracts as the moon
slips under the covers
of a sky in dawn
inverted sun
she is not interested
in the beam - touch
of the black hole
inserted name
leathery topography, eroding,
unchanging; hides a face
picks up drift -
bones and river organs
building the hollow nest
of a stick castle
a structure of the moment
inserted ism
waves of the ride fingers the base
moon ; she embraces
tide returns
face sink body floats
pieces
the ocean
reclaiming
stolen
t r a n s i e n c e
watching Aljaezeera and listening to adbusters - live without dead time, which I stumbled on; labelled as Saul Williams and DJ Spook
Tiny Bird, a man in China .. has helped 60 000 people. helping migrant workers get back their money from rogue clients
a migrant workers employer owes him 6000 dollars, in confronting him the employer punched him in the face
and locked him up
the cops took him away and let the employer go
patiki eyes flower his cheeks
got a face of demand
choking on the cradle
got a need to demand
crawling on hands
dreaming that we stand
like strangers on the street
strangled but standing
with a face of demand
baby eyes flower his cheeks
got a fist of demands
like Tiny birds wings he saddles
a voice of demand
crawling in sand
like an hour glass trickling
into hour of change
third eyes flower his cheeks
hi I’m me I’m using this to sell you this
intercepts through every window, flahsing too quick
for the conscious
absorbed in the subconscious
distracting from the message
weaving into the map of thought
a ceremony of senses , alibi in a silent district
excusing thought
executing opinionated reflection
Å
Tower of Yabberwocky
She muted, man
she Muted the Babel;
climbed the tower
Ivory only reached
to the clouds
it was pitch
voideous
black, man;
beyond the blanket of fog
found
perfection in absorbing colour
perfect
is never perfect
enough
Building
sky scrapers
to reach
phallic heights
needing a Band
of Hope
travelling to peaks
like a heart beats spike
huddled into sterile
elevators
guided into studios
heaving, strumming and beating out pop, bubble bursting cheese;
a view in panorama
of our modern architecture
like fast food inspired art
between sponge-like monuments
launch
at the sky
so fast
the skin tear off the bones
falling off the tower
or beaten down by the
monstrously
robotic
taxidermi
King of the Forrest/Tower/Hill
falling de-volutional design burns into white canvas
cross of heretic christ burns into a holy mountain full of caves and volcanic pride
wondering
if goddess is
androgynous
third-eye
of vision
of depth in sight
or a
branding of a perfect circle
with an upside-down
cross
at its base
wondering as the Yabberwock
eats
the knots of global babel
that could have riddled
in to
a new horizon
maybe she’s born with it
maybe it’s make-believe
donate your money now
or we let the children die
Cock and bull
all
an 18th century gentleman
represents in a modern movie script
is the mock-reality-tv-behind-the-scenes-handy-cam thing
that has been popularised through shows like
arrested development, the office, the extras
and the sad ‘comeback’ with Lisa Kudro
and of course mockumentaries by the brilliant group of people that made
… …., waiting for guffman, best in show, a mighty wind and Spinal tap,
the finest of our modern mock-reality or mock-novel satire
or is it possibly mock-media now
at least they mentioned the black page
but left out the plotlines and the literary treasures
like the blank fill in yourself page describing a lovely lady
or the squiggle representing a character whip trajectory
cock and bull
watch out for the sentimental traveller behind it
Swift was a romantic weaver
holding on to the dream
of his indian princess
who is promised to another
oh dear Eliza
his ink would always love you
cock and bull
he spun post-modern satire
before there was a modern to be post
about
maybe she’s born with it
maybe he’s just a bit mentally
sick diseased
disordered
Dr. Phil seems to have a growing following
of little bald psycho-tv-preachers
guiding americans to fit into the mould
of average society
along with Tony Robbins
these people represent our preachers
in the stead of the church and priests
of A/CCC state
that is an
atheist/consumer capitalist conservative state
so with the DSM-IV under their arms
like a psychologists bible
and jars of pills in their suitcase
they herd you blindly on
like an ant in a white line
iv.
The circle draws
circles seeing him-
self as a line in-
side the orb
He arrow kisses the throat
of the goat on the altar
in the de-
votion
of circles
words litter the ground
in red and yellow leaves
thrown at the sky
they become dust before
a single sentence
reaches the wall
of an orb
is the circle moving
pushed by hands of being ?
Between ?
v.
from start to chain to end
i chased his tail and he chased mine
in the dojo of uncle code
who stained the owl cherry red
cherry marinated in cock
tails drunk that hollows out symbols
in the breeze by the pool in a penthouse
while gourmet chortling at
the live footage of bare fists
breaking a bulls horn,
killing it
only fists
looking at their fading hands
ornate vines
like venetian filigree
caught a running man
like a knot of twine spun
lifted from the ground in embrace
untangled in a heap a moment
of finding footing in new direction
a hesitation
dirty souls
shoes heavy
dirty lungs
mind heavy
he stares into the horizon
she points at the crooked tail
are they parallel?
horison sinks and deforms
parallel ? twin steps head for the edge
of perception
with a Question
of between
vi.
there is a constant rumble of waves
outside my window
from the ocean of roads
weaving between neon flecked islands
calming
constant rumbling chaos of ocean
I find it calming
o spirit of between
vii
on the floor, in loading docks
our work space is filled
with minds
Attending
Dreams
Holding
Dyspnea at bay
Bottled up by pharmaceutical remedies
Poking your finger in the hole in a dam
Builds the pressure Nausea
The headache , dry mouth
Ramped up heart rate
Crushing expenses
flag poles the will
on standby on a stretcher
stretches the mind
universal focus scatter
white froth, white noise
obscure the embers
of Between
Vacana of Between
viii
my bird pecks at the hand
muse pecks at the seeds
she pecks to shape rough
edges ledges
where the iron monkey used to lean
dangle freely as a rough stone
yet to tumble in the froth of the wild
river
reaching the delta to build banks of sand
scooped up from broken hour-glasses
my bloody hands build a fire
steady hands build with a smile
hands build to shape change
weaving meaning
the cicada guides the flight of the cock
with dragon tears dancing like loplop
thank you for the blood
O spirit of between
so much better
with a muse in the hand
than a dozen birds on my roof
lining power poles and shitting
at your peering eye as you walk
past
thank you for the blood and hope
O spirit of Between
Vacana of Between ix
I’d like to run laugh
a little reason to repair
what have I done to deserve
vision to see the riddle and her touch
where the tenderness and torsion ride
and life turns me always haunts
me on where dynamic
walls might shift fall
reach ing out the fake
O why can’t you see that
the costumes we wear are the symbols
we carry history in the groove of
masks O transient can you see
bind my chaos in
thin webs o hm
I would like to
st ay
la ugh
Spirit of Be Tween
Vacana of Between x
We;
average animateassiduousbriskconbrio
entre-nous conspiritoebullient energeticenterprising
Our
interjacent euphoricexuberanceflamboyantforceful
intermediary headyintoxicated pluckyspiritedspiritful
Will
intermediate vigorousvivaciouszealouszest
intervenient élanvital breathdivinespark
Their
intervening lifeforcepsychesoulvitalforcevitality
mean élananimation bouncebriodash
To
medial espritlifelivelinesspertsparkle
medium vervevigorvim vivaciousvivacity
Down
middle-of-the-road zipanimationanimusapparitionardor
middling atmanattitude bansheebraverybreathbrio
Why
moderate charactercheerfulnesscouragedashdedication?
parenthetical demondeterminationdrive dryadectoplasmelf
forcefully
separating encourageenergyenterpriseenthusiasmesprit
amid espritdecorpsessence exhilarationfairyfireforce,
We;
amidst genieghostghoulgoblingremlingumptionguts
among haghearthobgoblinimp incubusinspirationintent
Live
average intoxicationinvigorationkelpielemureslifeloyalty
betwixt meaningmettlemood moralemotivationmoxie
Our
halfway musenumenoomphoptimismoreadpassionpep
intermediate periphantasmphantom pluckpneumapoltergeist
We;
intervening psychepuckpurportresolutionsoulspecterspookspritespunkstrengthsubstancesuccubus
within sylphtempertenacityundinevigorvimvisitation vivacitywillpowerzeitgeist
betweonum
i HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
name-ism ; on complexity and demands for explanations;
They carved a maze into the mountain
with locked fence posts blocking the right path
smeared with wax seals of gilded writing of codes
and conventions that drains the climbing text of its own persona
into a drone outdated by the time it reaches the peak
where the pied cow kicks him off the preaching ledge
to find that personae again, anima crippled, finds personae
scorn, smelted into the venerable
pied cow
eaves of the orchestrated o bligator
gourmet-rocked like preying mantis
in the hollow glow does he still whisper
does he still flow where he stirs the stagnate
puzzled into form trodden path
tools and nimble fingers to keep you alive
my nose is cold and the frost is nipping at my chin
while the slug comes into my house, squeezes
through water cracks of cemented walls
dark, water comes muddy brown in slits
leaking wounds , dark water comes
through the tectonic plates of garden paths
where the stampede follows the red velvet psycho bunny
distracted by the black and white , in corset and garter belts, bunny
chorus of mountain nymphs;
I’m wasted squeeze my creation
wasted tension the sheep is wolf clothing
circus round and round we go
I’m wasted think I’m gonna be sick
wasted I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m better than the test
circus spasm, spasm, go
these plants, meadows, of eyes
scream in brutal harmonies; waves of the seas that stains
the dream of what the I can be
that lifts beyond the tragedy, froths high exposing
corralled rock bottom , contagious
clarity between
the leaves of or chest-rated
clatter of the congealing ban-everything mob
my noose is warm and magnets are nipping at my chin
mind is hematite to the rigid moulds of metal society
metal monkey rides the wooden ox
chalk footprints of carbon headprints leaving
soulwrought ornate filigree symbols
to decorate our attended desires
chorus of desert valkyries;
I’m circus plonking to mastication
circus of truth in media juices
wasted eyes like ruins
I’m circus think I’m gonna be bloated
circus inverted cripple shimmy
wasted twitch, twitch, go
mind the cave the mountains hollow
here I can chip carve the stone until
it exposes the neural roots that connects
the mountain to the ground
stalagmite fingers of petrified lightning
from the crooks beating of polar clouds
here in the crystallized pockets of volcanic stones
I can see circus
the eaves of the orchestrated ord ained
leaves of the book o the tree
the lemon tree where the masked child was crowned
stuck in the crown the hermit grounds the bark
snorts it and falls and parties by the roots
where he could see the geometry of the bridge
but fell in love with the river underneath
the same river that tumbles stones into orbs ; balls
same river that fills up the wells and fuels
the Israeli and Saudi war machine
river that creates the cusps where we can tie
our wooden rafts, hollowed logs and chromed body kits
together to watch the frothing rivers endless rage
chorus of toadstool fairies;
wasted circus transient is the spine
wasted magnetic she holds my joint
circus voice like horizon
circus wasted think I’m gonna explode
circus expand outside a frame
wasted twitch, spasm, grow
their walls taught the birds-chest boy how to climb
with torn pads in his knees and a chronically aching shoulder
clouds of herbs buffering away the doctors pill serving tray
their walls taught the boy how to climb
but never to build
build the spiral
torsion; build the spiral
they never taught me how to build
every stone is a trial
build the trial
stone; build the trial
those that look for the straight line will always get lost
there is no straight line normal is not normal
circus looks for the straight line looks at the surface
attention is wasted lost in the straight line
want me to explain ? lost in the surface
want to know the answer ? lost in the straight line
blind to complexity lost in the surface
what you look for should not exist
in art and poetry
Vacana of Between xi
After listening to the 33 per fumes of pleasure by Alan Brunton, reading Pedagogy of Hope by paolo Freire and re-exploring the ideas of Candide by Voltaire; in reflection of goddess
her blood ink flows from her fingertips
it embraces his apex as she grips his head
what is your name ?
there is an abysmal silence as her smile makes all questions
evaporate
there is no name; goddess appears in a million stars
planets circle nodes in tireless loops
he is walking along the shore, naked feet against stone
each stone tumbled to a polished smoothness
crystals colour the topography in lines
spreading into calligraphy in the sketchpad of thought
Goddess rushes through his body and kisses his spine
he is having coffee with Thoth and Horus in a bar
where his friends used to never eat
she gives him a moment while she explores art
with Sophia and Aphrodite
what is your name ?
she whispers , He shouts
who cares ! there is no name
Freedom has a high price;
the same as slavery
the difference is seated on another pole
difference is you pay
with pleasure, love and smiles
even when that smile is dimmed by tears
is it the free
or the enslaved
that pull the carriage of complexity
the black horse breathes steam and tosses his head
the white horse grasses and grows fat
we want you to grow fat
with promise fat with dreams
who has the trodden road
engraved into the sole of their feet
soul of their feat
Free - dom slave - ry
such polarities connected
by the solar marrow
hands reject the other hands
persistently and forcefully through space
embers burst
into our solar tongues
like twin electrons humming, oscaillates, in tune
continuum impacts
freedom
cycle connects the dots
of rise and fall
expansion of the chest
releasing air
changing minds
Freedom implodes
continuum into
slavery
this is the pain you feel in the illusion of Candide
“all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds.”
where the tears fall inwardly
the core is moist in the pain of Candide
micromegas laughs in the curves of space
too large to see, to small to be
the dynamic man in the mountain of the silver scarf
of comets that move in spirals along her outline
he wakes, he screams at the pain of Candide
he never saw the redness of her lips in the shadows
the fire burnt is hands as he fumbled in the dark
eyes blinded by the light, ; the sun will burn you , the sun will blind you
the sun will tear you apart , don’t look , don’t look
the first delirious step split the page in half
leather bindings flake from age, canvas bulges in faded paint
paint bubbles on the surface of his wood
the sun still burns the retina, look into the blindspot
He arrived at her knees, her lips were too bright
his hair in her fingers she pulled his head up, the brilliance lit through lids
white noise let in the ellipse widening, double ellipse; slits of vision
spasmodical dance at the brief touch of her saliva
his words were in her lips as the pain let go
he looked up at the light ; it embraced his flight
departing from the utopia of pain
like a hacksaw at his old bones
chack a chack a chack a chack a chack
he swore his life free, trapped in poverty
he swore his voice free, chained in censorship
he swore his mind free, bound to code and convention
chack a chack a chack a chack a chack
He’s our gardening Angel;
Jesus scares and he made all the bulls
for us to ride into the cross
Cock & Bull
did you miss the subtle satire
of the sentimental traveller who spent five pages
on describing a single moment, a brief encounter
of a lady that caught attention
of experience not contained in facts
that stripped the face and pulled out the idea
of objective observation; a reality only alive
in historical books and the Nouvelle grown old
have you lived your life
between the mind and the trees
HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
HUM i HeruUhaM (repeated)
ohm
he is not an empty file to the teacher to fill
this is the pedagogy of oppression
he is not a complete file for the teacher to trigger
this is the pedagogy of the divine
we need teachers that learn and learners that teach
some would say this to be
a mere cul-de-sac of Marxist palaver
if reciprocity is a dead end
then altruism does not exist
if altruism does not exist
then his experience is full of lies
if you see lies then you never listened
to the open question in his voice
never listened
f laws
o f
con
D
conditioned
ITI
conditioned
O
ed
truth
o f
con
D
conditioned
HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
Vacana of Between xii.
the ocean becomes a
myriad of sequin voice glimmer
when the micro stir the body
megas stretches white fingers at the sky-
crash into the Great
his inverted eye and tangled beard
covers the water
with raging neglect
can I see the ocean
without rejecting the micro-
saga
megas
voice
HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
nhey donkey fucked you into a mule
(I love the Moldy Peaches and the Brian Jonestown Massacre)
((Yes I know – might make you think of arguments you would throw at Peter Doherty, and yes he did a cover of the Modly Peaches song; ' Who's got the crack' ; But that , should never take away from the rawness, beauty and talent of what they created. ) )
hurry hurry ; a tiny voice of the human race
dismable and fleeting
twirling , whirling
changing , streaming
dancing, beating
turnable and lasting
it told the wisdom of the current world
it told the truth in fiction hidden under rocks
((ghoough ramaloke anganghnaungh larf-chi graagh))
he spoke the vision of the way we should take
((gyrraattoo omhg derm swiggily schmoo))
to find the bridges to the age of the ocean
(
arrrgwarraaaaaawwwhaaaaaaaaaaaa!)
swallow fishes as they steam and scheme
((dimelybimelysimelyimmelydimdim))
a spectacle of kaviar and piranha orgies
((blaughaugheerrkerrrkuhuhuhhaaaug))
blood and guts of cows and sheep
((sshhrrrshhhsssssswwh))
pentapi – the five armed giant global squid sucks onto the whale(whail) ; sucks it dry , geyser cries
sonar screams, reverberates in the body as he sucks on leviathan
sweating money through cylindrical tubes coated in moneymill
phalanges
in the night the mare rode the tiny flake of the human race
to lead the hope; beauty is the runner of the beast ; realise yourself
turn; I need you ; I need you; steed goes round and round, grassing patterns
hang upside down, vote for the dawn, there's only two paths , I wanna run
in the forest, dodging trees, ; I need you ; I need you ; chasing
dismable and fleeting
chasing , racing
confusing, refusing
accepting, partaking
steaming, dreaming
turnable and lasting
can you hear his tiny voice ? I can't ahahaha so tiny
tune in your pop skull – can't you hear the rawness of his voice
not polished, not edited - not perfected for your sober ear
don't listen to the Moldy Peaches or The Briant Joenstown Massacre
who perfected that raw , unedited voice in a plethora of heroin visions
tune it out , tune him out; tune it out; tune him out , tune it out , tune
the donkey fucks you into a mule, takes his time, does it hard and long
until you lay down, starfish on the ground, and worm along the ground
to distract yourself from the constant pumping, throbbing, breathing,
signals, cameras, waves, texts, calls, spy ware and policing
lodged and nestled into our mental cavities, gyrates and whispers
lullabies from the seven tongues of doctored psych-babble
derive derrida, derrida derives deconstruct never into laws
always questions ; the search was never about the situational
answer; the sediment of a growing spiralling puddle
books are covered under layers of fish fertiliser
rotted into pulp, petrified to stone or frozen in sap
only the moving text knots like a seed, spreads like spores
roots into the crap-soil and weave around stone
oxygen plant of aquarius in an aquarium
vacana of between xiii
a friendly neighbourhood purebred Siamese tomcat invades my lap
he comes to visit now that
my garden is growing
in complexity with rare birds
visiting
he eyes them up to eat them
I encourage him, because they ate
my strawberries
we never feed him
he plays with his claws out
purring
HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
the anti of the matter
The anti of the matter
(you know that voice; that always wants to fuck everything up; that's there for you in the worst possible way to make you fall. This voice tried to kill me once. I got a trespassing order against it and had to throw it out of the house. I met it again recently at a party. Thought I had gotten rid of it. It seemed well; better, ; it apologized for the past; I knew it was the same. I forgave it. but I know it is the same. I forgive ; & i fear karma will be its bane. why fear ? It wants to reconnect the nodes, I want to keep them severed; they have other junctions now that weave into beds and bridges and fine fabric. )
feathers whisper
(in his voice)
'I fear eye not seeing me
Hiding from the eye; I see; I cry; toobe y seen by the eye .
He does not see me ? ! did I see him ? '
i refer to It
as a voice
It does not speak
make sounds or words
yet It filters its expressions through
- it is Lingua the lord ;
creation out of no
purpose - - - .. no -
purpose pyre of
stagnation , smoke
puffing mountain-tops
to tell the villagers
- clusters of neurons –
to panic - ideas
are tearing at their
walls - pulling itself
apart dis- associatie
twin electron pairs
loosing rhythm
presence
reverberate in hyper-
linked images - dynamic
and moving
all recognizable , stored
smells , sometimes just
sensations
recency pulls a flat screen
over pooled memories
threaded onto bundles
of pathways
ways that lead no
where if you look
and everywhere
if you perceive
association dance in your aura
like history this
memory is a highly
edited meme-infused episode
… well a series of episodes
like the photo-shopped version
of a model or our previous prime minister
this is more like
the edited hard-drive
that holds all the versions
in the crop:
‘ the made-up younger versions
the drugged-up older version
the funny, the twisted, the nice the sad etc etc etc etc
hard to recall which ones
got saved
which ones deleted ?
what he .. ? .. / I named it
and which one I am
looking at right now
was it labelled wrong ?
Did I edit this ?
or is this real ..
this intangible
presence , a new label ?
it sutured itself
onto my visuo –
spatial
sketchpad
like migraine dots onto
my internal perception
it sutured itself onto
my neck
stitches bleeding a bit
cleansing in ionised
silver ( ag ) water ,
cloves, myrrh & eucalyptus
oil
gargling , swallowed a bit of the oil
accidentally
& vomit
chocolate and ice cream
onto the ground
& I pull off
this label , - tag
..won’t read it
throw it away
have to read it
can’t help but read it
burn its body
cant help to hear it
kick its ashes
you are still here
as I crack you out of my spine
naa er jeg drit lei av draaper som formerer seg og spytter seg over beina istendenfor aa prate i et simmer sammen, s lik at vi kan spre oss uten aa ro
naa er jeg drit lei av draaper som formerer seg
og spytter seg over beina istendenfor aa prate
i et simmer sammen, s lik at vi kan spre oss
uten aa rooere bakken
it only takes one drop
of spillage
before it splatters out
each droplet growing
what was that you said? was that growing or blowing? yes
I think it was blowing like felatio; his name was Felatio
and he was one one who could read the Rorschach grapevine
no? no! I’m just shoving in some feathers here, where I can
gonna get a chicken
I like fried aircastles
they’re golden run down shacks
in the blue sky blocked by coiling grey clouds
it’s a reverberating chattering
bubbling as each creates
internal liquids
multi-
coloured with little facetted eyes
sometimes grows fingers
sometimes whole limbs that
ply
out your onlooking glassballs
and take your legs out in an
explosion
you enjoyed that didn’t you?
I like explosions too sometimes
it’s in this space you find chaos
embracing globules that fat together
wiggling their tails , swimming with
a karmic purpose , not the eleventh purpose
eye of Horus in that calm cusp of a face
there’s an internal hysterical laughter
he is red in the sky blowing his own horn tower ; ashes give the richest soil
it’s a static distortion
dynamic that’s the Yaweh yaldabath oherum ahmen-ka-damehn
talking saying ymni omni oni on oh ho no ino inmo in my na
me
this is more like the purpose of 661 , where the 6 and 9 are inverted polars equally exclusive but dimensional to each other and 1 is the all and the none that is something ; being; 6 6
1 of horns. being of horns
2 karmic purpose of being with horns
3 purpose of horns
4 hooves matter is the horn to soil
5 never swim as they are the ocean
7 8 9
see hear speak
nothing
view absorb discuss
everything
notice listen investigate
all
evade zone-out yatter
NOT
be
1
99
because you’re here it’s because you’re here
that I
have this purpose; fuelled by a sort
of survival instinct
this bloated pidgin virus of a mob
makes your horns straighten
whitened and bleached
polished by societies heel
sharp; want to slip into your
soft foundation and rip into your
crossbeams and supporting structures
until you crumble ; and no I
don’t really care if you fall on me
even though it will really hurt
my stones are coated in hardened crystals
grown from the chemicals
that the anatomist node gave to the alchemist node
from the whiteknucled moments caused
by spillage and the frothing
of mouths see hear speak
evade zoneout yatter
who made this fuckin mess on the floor
here as I walk through the clear path
that the exploding chaos opens up
…because I’m left here to clean it up now
fine … I’ll clean it up
that’s what you get
for spilling a drop
fine; ashes give the richest soil
but these aren’t really ashes; you don’t burn do you
liquid bloating spilling frothing body
you just bubble and make a resin
once I flare you, you are a black ooze
but even the blackest dirtiest gunk
can be dissected , ..distilled I mean, ; purified really
into a golden liquid
I have my horns I have my pen dipped in golden liquid spillage
Vacana of between xiv
I real ly want
jeg oensker meg over alt
et nytt
a new
norsk
keyboard
for mac
saa jeg kan si hoere
without it looking like I'm saying
whore
it's really irriterende
jaevlig health else
eller erre esse , else
it's some
vine-twine my textual
vocal cord is unplugged
now rusty - i call it rustic
men det er egentlig bare rusta
med tenner av flerra flak
som jeg lapper sammen
holder sammen, holding the sami
reindeer I saw in a movie
-Veiviseren - clear in my mind
hadde de reinsdyr? jeg
er ikke sikker men det maler et
nydelig bilde
ikke
true as the history we paint
as the world we create
but most of all
I just want a new norwegian keyboard
norsk
I HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
Listening to : Gojira – From mars to Sirius , Terra Incognita, The Way of All Flesh
reading/research: Gaza and Israel , Derrida, Biodiversity, Shinto Trinity, Borromean rings
structure of Home of global roots
This seems so familiar
So sure I knew this place
you can never return
Home; you can change
become
a new terravore scape
there is nothing wrong with
killing
Hunting to eat
your meat the crown of feat
it’s the way. the way; the
way the same way you eat
or not whether you eat
their blissful sky until
your numb
you do
nothing
to entice them to stop
them
in your abstinence
evolve
protect
balance
devolve
wipe out
rape the
habitat
seed the
home
there is no
thing wrong with
our Home and the killer
in us is
not your enemy friend fiend
Home strong
is the wheel that churns spirit of the grain
hear the rise of my despair thank you for your
blood splatter on the joke of big bullys’ peace
take his price from mister Nobel
thank you for the gunpowder they made great bombs
Alfred what good did it do?
price daemons
here to destroy wipe
your future clean
they want to eat you r tears , drink you
r history promised by the Yaldabaoth yellabout
freedom for the Tyrant freedom for the Feet
Body of the moon is a statue Eyes of the sun obscured
with heavy makeup can’t even see the old lines
of Horus her slutty eye , model anorexic glint
holds you with a clitoral hypno embrace can’t resist the juice she burns with
legal pills and herbs riding on the first wave of science in experimental frothing
we do this to ourselves , the head-on rush at the brick wall dystopia
prophecy is made in the writing of our Dreams ; Mare of the night taints it
when the burn of the fire holds you in fear ; only left with the shadows
distorted and stretched interpretations of the dancers Howl to the shine of
Man on the satellite , nocturnal always blinded by the brilliance of
unmasked eyes
she still lives in there
she still stays in there
stir
stir
stir
will we find the path to awake
deconstruct triple fire wheel unbreakable rings
eye(i) sore(soar) so(zoo) well I drink
dragging(dragon) this (tease) weight(wit) moan(mon)ster(stare)
still I stand and do(door) master(muster)
live(leave)
part ii
this rope is made of human hair
the well is made of human bones
cemented by our skin and nails
the rope is alive with fungus and worms , held in place by wax
burning off the frayed edges to keep it looking smooth, thinning
rope is tied
to the bucket that eats out of the well
teeth staple its wood together
as complexity reverses devolution fades the colour
in the face of being of flux of dreams
anaemic white weak
you expect me to abandon the well
the rustic notion ignorance of Arcadia
your Fiesta choked on the end of the rainbow
living in a mist returning to cross the river
thinking it was the same ever changing river
the well sits on a grassy knoll
overlooking the ocean
with an umbilical to underground lakes ;
puddles of creativity that pool into a global lake
we have the ability to be the most enlightened generation
of our known history
how can you see ?
I am pseudo partly-blind ; poor vision ; - 6.5
but my glasses and contacts work fine
ready access to a different vision ; spectre ; dimension of light,
broken ? , distorted ? , she changes more readily with the mind
in this flared out vision
the knoll is fenced in ; mirror maze borders ; with masquerade
killers living at each dead end; alleyways are their eyes ;
main streets are their glowing glassball ; reflection of a mask
sacrifice
the child of the slave to the master
owl to the bull
sacrifice
moloch to the goddess
molek to Sofia
golden donkey/elephant to the stone owl
in the Bohemian Grove
mule is growing restless in pyramids
searching the geometry ; genome bricks
of dimensional fertility
in the steppingstones of an unwritten past
roots filtered into culture through stolen symbols
the flux remains alive because of your numb minds
stole my heart and soul now you carry it on your back
to my children as they will break your back on the bridge
where the ugliest man grew into you and inverted cripple be
came your name as we soar leviathan ; flying whale over panels
magnetic subzero dynamos spiral twist spin past the ghost of time
who meditates silently on the pied mountain atop the owl; cow melted
into the donkey and elephant, in the lemon tree the snake hangs like an emerald
necklace around the hawks neck ; pecking eagle eyes ; eating eagle tongue
Home Strong
living roots are mine
to keep in the soil
global roots are ours
you can’t Tyrannise
the home out of me you can’t
bomb my home from me
global voice can’t have
this tyrant body
will bloat explode
from internal jabbing
fall yellaboutstones
diamond is written in our text
manifest dystopia unravelled
falling falling
it’s happening right now it’s happening to you
global roots are ours
Vacana of Between XV
The cav-
ity
covered in shot
black and red taffeta
waterfall curtain
is not hollow
behind the main street of Ponsonby road
oppos
it
johns submerged buildings
the metal fence grits like rickety teeth
around the Soho hole
protecting an urban beach and swimming pool
for no one
the cav
e
a
cabaret of volt
air
e
full of holes
the puzzle is
dissonant
polar
tomoe
sandpaper at edges
is a slow process
I HUM i HeruUhaM spirare plus tus of Be tweihn(ai)
Vacana of between XVI
The
burmese carries
news of bunnies
and Ahmadinejad
seems to rock
foundations
the democratic system
was meant
to
divide and conquer
against Khamenei,
Mousavi
they choose the
ride, steed
goes
global voice
save the green
dove
not white this
time around
it
covers up the
red and
yellow
leaves which had
been eaten
by
the bunny dead
in my
garden
they breed them
in the
house
behind
the fence
they sell pets
an
alpaca looks
over the barrier
my
their
hands are
bloody but
clean in the
bright open eyes
Oh Spirit of Between
Vacana of Between XVII
good quality
elements
seem harder to come
by in our
consumer
society
Rimu dug out of a swamp, now Tokotoko
now walking/talking
stick
i would have referred to it as a cane in paler days
dug out
of a swamp
carved into your
hands
The Russian Nomad went to Peru
wearing only a backpack
and a handfull of translated words
to explore ancient ruins
and see between the words
instead of a ruin, where the blank was uncharted
outdated
a small village greeted him
following the trails of a river
the coded words are still hiding
bloodied after climbing
the smooth rock of ravines
the night was warm
chewing cocoa leaves
and sucking sugar canes
with the locals
Spir it of Between(ai)
Vacana ov Between XVIII
vacana of between XVIII
So here, I was not particularly thinking of the self as overrun by advertising (Made in Taiwan) or even a fluid or socially constructed entity. I was interested in how I could NOT think about the self except as a kind of evolutionary writing/text production (i.e. a subjectless process) linked to specific technological affordances and constraints, i.e. the self as, rather simply, part of an environment that is pull not push, to cite the Toyota Production System.
Tan Lin
quote ? quotation marks? source information? is this ok ?
right wrist broken
each line is a struggle
I had plucked feathers from the nomad
pheasant, female – brown and black, white tip
cut ; undipped
to calligraphy her eyes into the sky
so Obama had stern words of love for Africa
welcomed as their president – with global feet
settled with a global name ; what follows
global law. I thought they called that colonies;
Iraq, Israel, Afhganistan, or will they be part of the union
as independent states
He stabbed her seventeen times,
all over the body, smiles as he talks of her
fix your face the smile is always there through it all
didn’t see the salt in his wounds and you know that you gave
that you took , that you crave
it’s what you wanted in the end was it NOT just a need
for the flame and the wake, rush on you feet, we know
everything, for the love that we gave, Sofist we’ll make
you follow what you want in our name, as we write
the steps for you to take. product of a written text,
entirety shapes the moving global soma
in symbols lies the add-infinitum history/cycles
of the Green Men we were
I was
Ayaam
sp I rit of Be tweihn (ai)
Vacana of Between XIX
det er en jetlag morgen og mørket
er vakkert lover meg at laputas teppe
skal avsløres vi dukker gjennom
den røde rammen av gull slottet
inn i det grå teppet
og finner en meditativ stillhet
hjemlandet glistner i frostpusten
som bet av meg fingre og albuet meg
i lungene forrige gang
3 spiral trapper siden
3 krystallveier
3 gudinnebasseng
hun er ved min side nå afrodite
sofias nye geometri er tegnet i hennes øyne
og jeg er dets refleksjon
som skinner gjennom her under
laputas teppe
vår jord - jeg mener bakken - snø dekt
kald og frisk er hennes pust denne gangen
en sterk kontrast til den dampe varmen
av en betong jungel, et stoppested som brant vår hud
mellom opp og ned
mellom hjem og hjem
nomaden har fått tilbake sine bein
lagt sine røtter i Singapor med nye fotspor
en ny veil til the hule gamle treet
som vi nå skal finne tilbake til
gjemt under den grønne billens slør
et sted i Porsgrunn ?
som Philemons hytte eller Mikromegas' leilighet
flyter det rundt i blinde punkt
og venter til sløret lettes
or det gamle treet finner meg
I can't see be
y
ond
pond erin g
the carved shape of the new piece
of a puzzle i've been working on
the genome blocks
i'm trying to figure out how the angle works
to cut into a fourth dimension of space
or rather to see its shape , to not neglect that form
as it is there and i can feel it and it soothes now
as opposed to jarring against the soft flesh as it has
until she was there and you might think
i am alluding to some sort of fate
but that would be using your well chewed and masticated
pulps of western words
these words are of ideas which not even eastern
or northern or southern words can express
so it floats the green beetle irridescent
with corrosion formed by erosion into a mozaic
of a ad quadratum geometry
covering over whatever metallic sheen it once had
as a cocoon
which will lead the hollow tree of old roots
back to our attention
so we can yet again touch its bark and sit inside it
counting its rings and hearing the whispers of its stories
which has been spun in our absence
affected by our butterfly flaps on the oar of an aoteroan
canoe dug out from swamp rimu
det er sommerfugler i hjernelapper som
kiler mens de slikker av nektar
som jeg ikker sikker på om jeg trenger til noe annet
kom kramper seg litt og stikker litt i kulden
men det er likevel varmt her det er nok bare
mit paranoide skygge land som hvisker
om torner or blod og tenner og kroniske grep
de har løsnet nå mot full sirkel
som egentlig bare er et vendepunkt i spiralens gang
et endepunkt av en global nomades evig vinter
3 år siden sist han så vinter
men aldri har det varmet som nå
i en antiromantisks neoromantisk blikk
her meshy bosom is still there
as metal monkey , by fire horse, next to wooden ox
finally can stand to look at her
it's still there but its naked form seems beautiful
in this global light
word today
Landmarks go dark the white shelled roof of Sydney went first
no sign of fisherman blackcurrant may help you breathe more easily
millions unplug for earth hour our rivers fish could do with at least an apology
man claims win after ACC church protest you can’t stop Jamie Olivers food revolution no more junk food for nato bases
south Korean warship sinks arrest over poisonous dumplings
three teenagers arrested after police attack Somalian food aid diverted
new nuclear arms treaty new start for US-Russia mini-size me appeals
compensation rules may not apply to David Bain high on thai food
Iraq’s Allawi is open for new coalition talks basil-chilli paste
honesty is the best policy on CV’s deep fried creatures on skewers
Israeli soldiers leave Gaza after fierce clash cut fruit
Minister shocked after tourists point gun at native kereru dried pork
Thailand protesters, the red shirts, try to oust army from streets pale nutty brown
earth hour draws fewer kiwis fresh basil leaves in an Indian bathing bowl
The Vatican strikes can pope resign from office anti pollution masks
the paedophile case snowballs homely style
bomb squad callout in Rotorua noddles and shrimp
Arabs must prepare alternatives for failing peace process long deep green beans
calls for north shore mayor to quit similar yet different
bureaucrats decide to save the bluefin tuna suck on lemon grass
virus threatens parrot Mass a Man are denser
9 alleged militants killed in India star anise and mace
role in death of depressed kiwi denied coriander leaves cum in seeds
anti-hero’s mythical mission kefir lime and its rind
farms open gates to public for a day parcels of chicken
some states find burden in new health care in banana leaves
UN concerned about number of Maoris in jail sour sweet
sunk by global warming ? wave goodbye to the disputed island delicate balance
government has duty to probe trimaran sinking academic made with a light touch
suspected twitter infiltration ‘ I’m a nice hacker’ with complex flavours
nod at the treaty , give some benefit to doubt whether its from the street or restaurants
it gives you a whole new idea
Café du Firenze
marble is cheaper
than wood and sitting down
is more expensive than eating
we stand by the polished
stone bar
feet on the roof a Roman city
a sand filled city of a brutal past
-
(chorused cafe chatter)
there are voices that pushes the sand
through the glass-blown hole of our time
these voices push us long after they’re dead
instead of resting , instead of fading
they spend eternity having coffee in Firenze
-
outside detailed statues & polished stone
stand
remnants of higher thoughts
in the streets
where they should be
an outdoor display
in public
naked
free
-
(chorus)
nothing occurs contrary to nature
except the impossible, and that never occurs
we won’t ever believe in your fairytale
it’s a coverup, we know what you can’t see
we know what you wont show
-
Michelangelo and Da Vinci are busy, always busy
etching their names into the table
which is impressive in green mable
Da Vinci scratches his out
Michelangelo doesn’t finish his
he’s busy scowling at Raphael
& points out to Collodi how ridiculous Neptune
in his little fountain
looks
Ammanati Ammanato, che bell marmo hair ovi natao
what a fine piece of marble you have ruined, Ammanati
-
(cafe chatter)
there are voices that pushes the sand
it’s surely harmful to make it heresy
to believe what is proven beyond doubt
-
Collodi has a long nose & wants everyone to watch
his marionette show
pinnochio dance
it’s a real little boy
-
(chorused cafe chatter)
you cannot teach man anything
you can only help him find it within himself
is the man a disease or is the disease a man
it’s a coverup and I can’t fake it in the end
-
Machiavelli shows no interest in the wooden boy
he tries to show Galileo how the outcome
holies the means
justifies the act
Galileoo sees a theory full of holes
flat as the one
that broke his back
the dictator is justified as
long as he is wise and just
Galileo spins a globe
your ideas of power is as flat
as an uncarved slab of marble
wisdom is relative to knowledge
how can you tell
if the
Just man is just
a Sophist
or Wise
-
(chorused female chatter)
I’ve never met a man so ignorant
that I could not learn anything from him
time is wasting in the end, doubt is the father
of invention; having coffee in firenze
-
Dante pulls Galileo away from Machiavelli
let’s not have a fight tonight
how about a poem for a telescope
or I’ll take a beer
lets talk of Goddess
Have you heard her name ? I named her Beatrice
Sofia ?
oh yes she could be Sofia or Aphrodite
the pool of Aphrodite
the lost pool
both pairs of eyes turn to the sky
the romantic the inquisitive
eyes
from different poles
the earth moves around the sun
& sometimes we find an eye in the storm
Dorje and the eightfold path in Buddhism
Spoked-wheel teach-path is doctrine-roll is law-toil
King-top down-spin tragedie to Beggar-bottom up-spin comedie
Under-right stand-sand is wise-dumb
Intend-right tense-mud is dome-wise
In the prong-tip of the four-crown the mount-peak go pyramid-hard
Eight-arm three-face is spinhappy is spiral-tapping
Speak-right pale-eye candle-steel to Action-right hood-live flicker-burn
Duct-con-ethic set-pro-moral whail-wale-whirr whim-whack-wit
ethic-script moral-post white-whack-war what-where-warm
oilohm they toilwhom they soilbhoom they oilohm
in the lotusbase of the bell-blade the leader-snappy go phallus-bloat
woodbase fadecoat is pealhappy is penfat
effort-right smokespine fullmind to center-con brick-boat sheath-rust
discipline-mental cortexsoak cog-curr-croon ceg-crack-cry
honourpsycho optic-pan-wax code-chest-crest cure-con-craze
rag-gold they hollowdream they drag-old
i HUM i HeruUhaM
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