9...of the here or thereafter an excess of drought what spill the knotted tongue the closed fist raging till gut spill of shadowlike in blend of the redeem yes or no/ of the here or thereafter what spill the knotted teeth the split tongue ravage of desolate clear cut the night’s balm ochre drift apiece here or there hereafter yes or no/ yes or no these dead prisms of light’s accord as if to say it whisper or recede split the blood vessel no heart left no nothing but ashes here or there hereafter an excessive absence of all a closed wound an empty fuck/ yes or no what said till gift of exile so so far adrift in bask of till fashioned else the clamour of distill here now of the breathe-else the stain of dreams like cum upon a handkerchief given to offer up to the echoing drought yes or no the emptiness of some adroit silence/ silenced the word the voice given to burn in the aftermath of gutted fields says yes or no the drift what claim till shadow felt in dream of nectar ash and the eyes or no of the here there or hereafter distancia of foreign sands stretching out/ an outpost of bone winds ache of the pulsing cock till trace the cleft discharge of blood laced with semen and musk/ here there or fuck it it does not matter the crushed spasm the lightless flowering into savage the knotted drift adrift in the blood’s lack till claim redeem not a trace of the sun left in a clear skyline/ vacancy of/ in nocturne of species clipped the wailing does not fade yet is silent/ it reverberates throughout the flesh the eternal scream taken from belonging no this was never ours we were not wanted here we were wanted no/ say yes or no/ “did you give him the works?”/ “yes”/ “what did he say”/ “he said nothing” there was nothing else/ yet the breath lack won over the laced filigree of/ bask what till the here or there or of the hereafter/ etched across the skin the meat beneath of its own accord till taint of dreaming all forgiving rage in the impetus of given blossoming/ yes or no/ what then/ upon the precipice of blade not a stitch of it damaged in the recession till craft of blind a head of stone what scar till scarless scarred beyond this is the gift of final nothing to retrieve from out of this no not said it has never there will ever no not yet of the here there or of the hereafter till blind reckless of it it is set apart… eh  eh  the "silenced the word the voice given to burn in the aftermath of gutted fields says yes or no the drift what claim till shadow felt in dream of nectar ash and the eyes or no of the here there or hereafter distancia of foreign sands stretching out" is the emblematic formula to these poems and at once the evidence of total indifference of where these poetic trax tracts tricks trucks will lead to such density more revelatory of the "becoming-world" than any fucking purism would ever be able to pertain,the above text a stupefying tantalizing psychotologic tome of the endworld in its translation 'traductore il ineffibile' as the unmen-tionable yet is dressed in sounds as in an effluvial stream of insemantics insyntaxis the postpostmodern postironic neopostsyntax of the incessant bombard-ments with gruelling news as also horrific history here we're in a stasis of no escape which in itself can be affirmed as the "auschwitz sociuses" cocooning around and vitroviroinvade from within the vile ineffort of subconscious hydrodynamic spill and ganges gavials and debris non stop 24/7 ghats-burnings of emaciated corpses surrounded by mourning family and morning people and pyroclastic ashen casts of untouchables,the dalit,plus then even worse,an echelon lower,the people who eat ashes and drink out of skulls yet nowhere any,any difference to our fucking western nazist campy societies proselytizing for its own deathfields of highways and low ways, outskirts and banlieus, milieus and deleuze,serial social buildingprojects to accredite and gettoize the chanceless contingencies of people without work to go hunting for heroin and alcohol, cocaine and xtc,amphetamines and bath salts/ bad salts,in russia the search for "krokodil",crocodile a drug so asphyxiatingly strangulous sexually addictive while your extremities rot away as in liberia the eternal referencelessness gained with the civilian wars which surmounted in disdirectional rebellion driven on "the communities in Liberia with the highest drug use as Congo Town, Chocolate City, New Kru Town, Clara Town, Duala, Red Light and West Point".
14...white snap of/ sheer edge white of snap of some given orchestrate of bone/ garret of/ a clear eye/ break of not till severance/ over again and yet over again once more/ till traceless headless mocked by the offal onset/ of the offal obscurity/ the teeth of it in a bind of electric colours/ no nothing more/ the piss of this or that no nothing else/ still yet the clamour of until undone/ paring aware the garrotte of tears as if to utter it says no nothing that’s the price of it/ settled then till breath of plumage/ (asks of the dead traces/ the blind light’s balm/ colour colours none/ absent of/ absence of the unseen laughter of the laughter’s echoing triad/ speech unspeech/ gathering the deft rat of pelt once more/ in the given welts of tongue given to impart welt)/ dry stone/ perhaps stone winds perhaps/ nothing no not ever/ not a chance/ never was/ no not from the outset/ the outstretched palm seeks to be filled with blood as the sky wrings tears from the…/ in garret of/ bones no not a chance/ shadowed by/ a cold cut a sneer/ as is said/ drained of yes/ drained of the no/ knowing of the nothing/ traces memories of breathe escaping one never recalls enough to etch them down in…/ no not a trace/ blind ash/ a sickness from which one can never/ a sleep from which there is little of/ clear eye or no so it is said/ the hands shake before the clasp-knife of desire before the clasp-knife of absence/ till tint of oceanic/ spun lack of the cracked jaw of feel/ yet not a trace of it/ given unto drunkeness and the absence of feel/ mocked by a silence that does not observe/ excessive/ yes/ damage yes/ the sounds rail up in defeat and the cold ash of absurdity scatters them to the fields where absent flowers grow/ blossoming from the cold ash of absurdity scatters them to the fields of scattered absent flesh/ yet sharp as a tack the breath inhaled lights the beyond of which/ given to spurious abound and the lack of which/ in the laughter lung of it/ a breathless deform/ absent lights of the atrophic/ a filigree trace of/ scattered the dead pelts long forgotten/ this is the death of speech/ so it says/ there is nothing left to gain from it/ perhaps a bite/ a break/ a whistle of some abject tune/ criss-crossed by purposeless/ X.d out/ give or take a void or two/ this is the atrophy of/ given unto the abound/ the hands drop to the sides/ the game is finished/ the game is over/ it is not complete… hence the desire to catch in numbers and chiffres,in numbing and shipments,the "dead traces/ the blind light’s balm/ colour colours none/ absent of/ absence of the unseen laughter of the laughter’s echoing triad" the unspoken wish for the possibilty of cartography, as it is now the time,of the empty fields,the solipsism of desolate plants,a terrain abstained from,the mineridden killingfields of pol pot verdun movements in northern kongo,cartography of the open desolate musicsheets of yoko ono,playing an endmusic always,broken notes and tokens of "street", uncinematic graffiti- tokengalleries,with lost numbers, "hotel 14" a fuckhotel a brooklynite brown stoned building,"stoned" building the shootinggalleries budding and sprawling everywhere,the watering holes as visualized in T.A.D.s "stumbling man", http:// youtu.be/pAMXakcYVLU, actually the never mind a fuck anymore, ne'ever-mind-a-gogo.com chiffreless fields of unaccidentality, non identifiable, trackless endlessness, fields and rough patches, debris and derelict buildings, mappology of the endtimes, with new markers, fukushima, haiti, new new orleans,well tsjernobyl, ground zero however filled in with antimu-sulmania immobillière again in I-towers,101 TAIPEI, 2 international finance center, 7WTC,1WTC, these all vectors in an endworld,where we have to unite the crass diversification between the low and the high,lowlife and madison ave-élysée filth,over the tracks and far away and "from party to party" http://youtu.be/BBsq1tE--1Q which in itself is life as if in an inbetween-sphere, a nonplace, nonplaza, sens-ationalist the same as we would scale a home or officecubicle in one of those cadasterial vectors on the endmaps,"we're now nowhere",as the question "where are you",the penultimate question triggering the virosis of the touchphones,isn't any longer relevant as we're now as well at horizontal as vertical as also as nonexistent levels,(not) there anymore,we're already not there anymore,if we haven't left the building either in obscenely drunk or drugged out of your fried out brains or, hyperacutely crisp, calculatory urgent, insectoidely sterile presentist,we've in any case left our locale which wasn't a locale in the first place but forever in transitional state,"work in progress",as in the desolate field the solitary postneonuclear vegetative specimen we're kind of supposed to be not there,even in the ultrashiny mall the sensation of decrepit existence will not falter nor fail.
CODE #4 TEXTS is available from ONEIROS BOOKS, here
BOUGHT IT (ALSO) BOUGHT IT BOUGHT ITReplyDelete
aad de gids . madonnatella . la jaguarundina