concerned citizens
are taking faecal matters
into their own hands

Everybody is their own
dismantling artist
in the binary system

of God and technology, piece
of value by piece of computer
divided and layered back as

clippings and deeds of cut-up –
disorder sorted and
organized to

collapse into entertainment.
It is the business of
these notes about this book.

(cut-up: JR – William Gaddis)

~

~

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)

~