Write without consciousness like Yeats’ did in a semi-trance MENTAL STATE,
allow your subconscious to take over with interesting prose of the phantasm,
admit you own uninhibited use of modern language as a consciously censorless trait,
write excitedly and swiftly until the cramps in your fingers obey the laws of orgasm,
centered from the periphery with the beclouding of your consciousness of relaxed fate.
The object is SET-UP before the mind in either reality,
just like sketching a landscape teacup or dilapidated old face,
vignette is set wherein it becomes more than an accessible memory,
sketching from memories a definite image-object with an exhaulted pace.
Time is of the essence in being true to the purity of speech,
sketching the PROCEDURE of language in its undisturbed flow,
from the minds of personal secret idea-words conscious does reach,
blowing like a jazz musician on subjects of images upon the distant plateau .
Periods separating sentence-structures are arbitrarily riddled by divisions of a false colon,
timid and needy commas vigorously space dashes while rhetorically breathing in the badness,
jazz musicians draw in breaths between outblown phrases and sounds we hear that are swollen,
measure the time and note it down because pauses are essential to the METHOD of our madness.
Selective expression is following a freely deviated association of mind with limitless rows in seas of thought,
swimming in an ocean of discipline with SCOPING rhythms of rhetorical exhalation and expostulated subconscious statements,
fists coming down on a tables with a bang for each complete utterance deeply written with and without fraught,
satisfy yourself first by fishing deep with the laws of the human mind and receive telepathic shock and meaningful excitements.
No pause to think of proper words because of the infantile pileup,
scatologicaly buildup spontaneous prose till satisfaction is gaining,
a LAG IN PROCEDURE will turn into an empty and cracked cup,
pounding appending rhythms think accordingly with the Great Law of timing.
Nothing is muddy that runs in time to the laws of Shakespearian dramatic stress,
forever hold your obviously rational tongue with no revisions or improper rhyming,
mistakes are accepted insertions in acts of writing and intersecting without digress,
we need to speak and write now in own unalterable way of unconscious TIMING.
Begin from the jewel center of your interest in subjects of image at the moment of writing itself,
toss away preconceived ideas of what to say and write while outwardly swimming in sea of language incest,
peripheral release and pragmatic exhaustion now go blow the song you sing and write to oneself,
painful personal wrung-out and tossed from a cradle of a warm protective mind-tapping CENTER OF INTEREST.
afterthinking is unnecessary to improve or defray impressions except for poetic or p.s.’s to ourself,
ludicrous and spontaneous confessionals are interesting because crafted and not-crafted craft is our best,
the best writers are always the most bad and good while offering a way you can be honest with yourself.
Modern bizarre language structures arise from words being dead,
new themes like transmogrification give the illumination of a new life,
roughly follow outlines in fanning movements over subjects like a river bed,
run your mindflow once to arrive at the jeweled-center of essential pivotal rife,
language is the STRUCTURE OF WORK trying to wire the time-race of dread,
cutting the laws of Deep Form to their natural conclusion like a razor knife,
dim-formed beginnings become a sharp-necessitations ending in red,
last words trickle with the last trickle-night at The End of strife.
Transmogrified from : 9 Essentials of Spontaneous Prose by Jack Kerouac
dead beat poet 