May 2013
232 posts
3 tags
PRIMITIVE JESUS. a satire
Ever-reach, relenting arcs, ever reach for new realities, My gun the fun to blow the ceiling I touch off a World Too adjunct to hills: remote words curdle in Motley, however mind they be, said DICKINSON, you see: so let to stony orifices, that pixillate the same Resulting lilac: stars blossom: stony orifices might, Flesh combines with stone that way: spit your Flecking lights, o muse,...
2 tags
when i left my heart on the ground.
feeling dead forever basically i get it but i couldnt know that the social standards would trump me and in a figurative mind to leave your body in the ground is no sort of source for a heart that still beats the social standards of suicide are fucked up peace is nothing frigid and i have felt frigid with this broken spine so i know how it feels haha suicide is no moral problem at all fuck camus...
I am not a dull dream I am not lifeless nor softly there, like a taste Of some over-subtle thought, I am Nightly the person come to station himself Outside of your house, on the lawn, lending My bent cheek to the eerie glow of a moon Absently staring you down as if I kill some things
What is it I am then?
Nothing, nothing at all like my present appearance. Purple-gummed, like the sneer of a...
*old man’s voice:
EH?????? SAY WHAT NOW??
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all time favorite passage from Pound's Cantos.
from Canto CXV
BY EZRA POUND
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green...
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the stranth of the weke.
God Is Dead!! ! God Remains Dead!!! ! !!! Thus began Zarathustra’s downgoing„,&thus by —The upgoingdawn of- Austrian Classical Philology Of Siigmund & Jungg marking The transit of the subcutaneous R— - Eaasonen Resoigning Rrhnn n Resining, ?, Reconciled of yumanity The— Ambulant kerosene of id -Reconciled- With— The cross morality...
oscillates:
Read More
read this^
4 tags
things as they are are changed upon the blue...
The hands on the guitar in the dark I see pluck rhythms Lit between my sight of the incoming train here With sightless image,
And drummed on strings as I passed My eyes from there to there, watching The subway cars pass, deep in reflection after five On nothing in particular, maybe,
Hurtful thoughts. They are all I have anymore; They do not travel lightly on fingers on the strings here, However....
3 tags
HERE LIES DIRTY.
here is the plain statement. it is no subject for pride but in pride as commerce, as a way to see and not shrink back. listen to your heart, without a whit of mind, at all. let her unravel her own consequences. apply that word to a man: what do you have? a little girl. a little girl, held in place by her own anus. these do not present themselves to me anymore as an altus, but as chemical-burn. rob...
1 tag
had to post this awexome thing:
Hey Dan, Sorry it took so long to write back!!! Whenever people write thoughtful and long messages to me, it usually means they won’t hear from me for awhile. Meanwhile, the one-liner quip from the heeb who posts porn-o all day will hear from me ASAP. I know, seems ass-backwards, but it makes sense if you think about it, lolol. I actually *do* feel inadequate after reading your message, hahaha. I...
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ESTABLISHMENT LSD! [for the blockheads]
There are those who shine. There are those who cower from the shine. But either way, those who shine will not be able to be happily perceived. And those who cower away are just as foolhardy. Why, after all, make a brightness, the ultimate brightness, unobservable? Why create, after all, a boulder too heavy for GOD to lift? The question is, who makes the boulder? That is the true divisive thought,...
you are guileless in your dreams.
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LOOK OF LOOKS.
I am about to meet a friend and say my peace
I have beaten around the bush for long enough
And, many times in previous engagements
With this particular friend
Have made myself out to be a fool
There is much left unspoken. Incurious, distracted
Friendship: I might as well have scribbled an oration For what was left unfinished, Instead . . . the scratch in her aspect-
-The...
1 tag
The Dude Abides.: I should be writing my final.I... →
allamericanactor:
I should be writing my final.
I sat outside with a cigarette. shoes not even on, glasses off so the world looked like a carnival with the dilation of light.
Cold wind blowing.
I remembered four years ago; I remember how much I’ve changed. I asked myself if I still hated myself. I wondered if I…
Anxieties dourly analysed, up and out a cracked, thinking throat.
...
3 tags
BAD ANGELS.
I do not know what to say anymores. But listen:
There’s two parts of me . . . necessary? still
Questionable: they link me together, you see:
They tell me what to think about myself: these
Two folks in me are quite a hard going: what
Fellows anyone coulds see in thems might
Blanket over thems in being in one being, so,
Then, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference
Between: but,...
3 tags
LINENS.
There is no waking up, we are asleep and dream of waking up
From this WORLD of ether and of dust. The doom is changeling
That makes us think that we have woken up, only to find
Ourselves in a shout of sinking dreams that dress our perceiving
In the light linens of assumed reality. We do not see the trance of light
Illuminating the room of southeastern aspect
At the breach of day,...
3 tags
chocorua to good stevens in the night calm's...
This weird pain in my left leg Always there, ended-
-Briefly one early night in May and I came me in my Walking mechanism, I came me upon a gigantic aureole Slumbering, suspended
Above my eyes, while I looking at the life of the street at level of my Eyes—others there, tired, tired in themselves, collecting inconsiderate Algae from the day, and still as ghosts, as ghostly pillars, they below
...
oscillates: There comes a point when one... →
oscillates:
There comes a point when one self-parodies/is ironic so much that the demarcation between “genuine” and “non-genuine” is completely blurred. It’s the ultimate dismissal of one’s own agency. If someone excoriates your actual criticism or doesn’t get the joke, your response is: “I’m only joking; I’m…
it depends. i think it would more apply to big names, you know, people with...
“Against a fall of snow, a Being Beautiful, and very tall.
Whistlings of death...”
– Arthur Rimbaud
Ruis
etherlighter:
The elder flowers with the last Of stars that settle on the green. Some constellation left and rippled down And caught upon Ruis, unseen.
By lands of leaves and pretty thoughts That line the magic of the moon. The moon was broken into shards And beat the elder down (monsoon.)
Unfinished, he would stand and smoke In that one corner by the brook. The elder took his breath to...
1 tag
My friend said to me, “I wanna get regret tattooed backwards on my forehead, because if I ever ask myself why anyone would get a tattoo, I can just look in the mirror.”
I say, “Well then I can just regret knowing you and inform you of this every two minutes. Then It’ll be like you have a living, breathing tattoo walking around.”
I haven’t seen my friend in...
no one deserves to be a rebound four years after the goddamn fact. and yer not. yer not an afterthought. yer not ‘settling’ and i do not shrug my shoulders and say, ‘good enuff’ but shrug my shoulders and say instead, ‘simply beautiful.’ that is, as it is, how it should be. that i can love again; that i can love YOU forever; for the first time, can know i can...
HERE LIES HANDSOME: →
all sorts of flowers.
recent work.
WITHIN THE ELEMENT AND VEIL. [revision] I wish me liquid by the season’s grasp, To fell reminders of my solid state. There is, in the state- -Between, when I, still yet Not liquid, still yet not solid and, there is In this a sense a sense A sense of lovers on the wire, wavering with Prolix, and asserting more than could...
5 tags
like a salience.
i decided i
was gonna
write something
positively
haunting: could
this be
positive: could the
realization of
some haunting
thing
butt in,
suddenly, without
time enuff for
the reader
to
get a
feeling for
what is
being
written: would
that follow
back
to the
core of what
it means to
be haunting: could
one do this and
not be...
I finally understand Public Strain by the band Women. My life is complete. Moreover I have a new appreciation of their music beyond what I listened to of them.
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[In this place where the trees grow backwards, leaves first; in this place time runs like water. Trickles, or floods of it, it depends. But here also the meadow. But here also the fellows diadems on the water-surface. They contract beneath their own friendly twinkle like things that should not live, and yet they do so.]
Ian's last post (my last post as Ian)
ian-the-recluse:
The writer likes to create alternative personalities that can manifest his desires or serve to prevent the reader from truly knowing him
But eventually the reader creates more than the author does and molds the identity into what you want it to be this is when the personality must die
The author is dead
“there are some words better without an author, without a...
1 tag
“I have kissed the summer dawn. Before the palaces, nothing moved. The water lay...”
– Arthur Rimbaud
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ego glitch: bent florescent trees →
ian-the-recluse:
He bent forward and leaned in on three limbs, gently stroking her shaft with olive oil as florescent yellow trees stood silently in the dunes of pure sugar. I guess you could think of a human desert where the contrasting colors could point to pure delirium.
Above the yellow trees bird-like…
I held the memory of her enormous body in the woods
In hands disgustingly...
3 tags
raggy painted clouds.
Messed in the sky as if painted there—patchy clouds cleaved By lightning, a smothered, quick glow, then Dark in the night—stars Shine on in that, like some messy refuge each, between The clouds and through them, raining stars down to the Planet, as if each one to A mortal: for to comfort in the storm: smeared like a painter’s Paint against his raggy canvas: this limitation,...
1 tag
hymn to the beholder.
SHORT SOCKET. When the time finally comes
I will come before time
And declare that I have lost it
Between all these years
The memories of the past are wedged
Between all these years—
Which are a loose pattern of moments
Changed only by the ticking clock
These, then, are some of the things
I have rifled thru, in my time:
A man accosting
Me for money
Getting hit by a car
...
4 tags
infrequent attitudes.
There is a difference between an absurd system and absurd art and there
is a difference between a philosophy of logical entrapment and somesuch
one of---redemption. Regarding the latter part of this incurring
philosophical method: in both one must rule out certain elements. But
it is how you rule them out which determines whether you doom life to
its primary meaning or distil a thing to its...
2 tags
How soon has time roused minutes to corrupt, And strain me forth, yet leave as one not me All that I am for now! Is the present only who I am for now? Is my bleak past more who I’ll be; Immutable and even by the second, more, then Who I am, at present? Besides the dull ideals,— Useless and still heavy on the mind with Implications narrow or broad enough to say Not much, be not more...
2 tags
So let me die then! I have known her lately. And she cannot tell me who I am, for now, No, no, not for now, not ever again, will not. So let me die then! Mute, aghast, troubling The monument’s a doubt more natural to me Than all the crazed languors and deceits, no Not I, but the wind that blows through me, The wind that I have seen, a new wind, say It is a new wind, say on, say that it...
