~

Taking
and not
giving is back

Meanness
understands a
returning profit

Dreams
can resource
by buying supply

Productivity
and earnings
deliver the Chain

Anything
is amiable
but the System

Cynicism
is process
driven by humanity

Removing
soul from
innocent is increasing

Profit
is energy
riding the fraction

Only
addiction surrounds
the productivity mouth

In
this World
demanding is vast

The
System keeps
it desperate too

Holding
its tail
cycles the Chain

(cut-up: Gravity’s Rainbow – Thomas Pynchon)

Life draped
in a form of
processes and
laws

is distorted life.

Plead with life,
beg of it to be
springing

from a soil

from a collective

from our own hands

human plowed and sown

flowing from such
a condition of
life

life that
expresses itself

prepared by people
by a hundred million people
by a hundred million hundred million
people

not stunted by the will of
one

(cut-up: Native Son – Richard Wright)

‘Lady, i will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch until you give me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene’ ~ e e cummings

This is a delightful collection of poems by Vik Shirley and from the collector of such delights The Red Ceilings Press.

It is a quick romp of a read so I won’t quote the brisk poetically sexual aphorisms and spoil the frolicing fun, apart from the following which I have already posted on twitter as an obvious tease,

Other poets/writers will empathise with so many of the scenarios, not that it will be an exclusive thrill for them. There are so many revelations to discover: where artefacts are found; the use of aquamarine.

You should try and get your copy now as a Red Ceilings run is always limited to 40 copies, though I suspect there might well be the stamina and need for another quick one.

Get it here, so to speak.

Artists are
make-believe,

invention and
image and

humanity, power
with more force

than millions and
millions of others,

as with the
actuality chiefs

of what’s real
and mere greatest

number. Recruit
to our version:

believe to
make artists.

(cut-up: The Adventures of Augie March – Saul Bellow)

A mouthswarm
of the indescribable,

the uncreated,

I could hear
I could hear

moth

but ripples and
radiancies
and mirror-like
sounds

created,

a heroin wind of sound
mainlined to the mind

reborn.

I could hear the angels of sound
swarm.

(cut-up: On the Road – Jack Kerouac)

~

Romero’s bullfighting
was ridiculous,

a faked look of purity
as if a beautiful feeling

was attainable in killing.
An emotional pass would

emphasize their closeness
and safe exposure,

him and bull
bull and him

Romero and horns
horns and Romero,

but it was bull
in the absolute killing.

(cut-up: The Sun Also Rises – Earnest Hemingway)

1. Dust

Dust
and
dust
and
dust

What’ll we do?

2. Turtle

Oat beard
grass heads
and turtle,
tiddly-winks of
the same coin,
passive and
spun

3. Preacher

Full of the Holy
in the grass,
here’s me preachin’
with eyes of dust

4. Owner

To profit the dust
some worshipped
mathematics

but God knows
what measured men
squatting in dust

5. Ruins

Like jalopies
bustin’ with sawdust –

Christ, what they is
jus’ sold is

God Almighty
folks in ruins

(cut-up: The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck)

(found mash-up with 1828 Webster’s Dictionary)

was never there
frankly,

a fragment
from Luke

as broken as damned
sentimentalities.

So starting all over
to give a care:

My dear, it’s
best to mend fragments,
glue them together
as new,

a clean slate
from Frank,

an adverb for
ingenuous repair.

(cut-up: Gone With the Wind – Margaret Mitchell)