Mild Economical Horror

They will laugh,
as we knock on their door.
They will laugh,
as we do all the dying at war.

They will laugh,
like there’s nothing to care about,
They will laugh,
because those with cash have clout.

Their grin will turn into a smile,
when the wins become less.
Their laugh with turn to snicker,
with the first sign of distress.

Their wonder will turn to a mild horror,
as their empire evaporates like a tree.
Their pockets will eventually empty themselves,
by the rest of us giving and doing most everything for free.

 

What would you be willing to do for money ?

Modulated Endless Loops

Of course that’s the way it’s supposed to be

that’s the way it’s always been on t.v

the vortex of misunderstanding you

turns into something that just doesn’t do

new ideas are easy to disreject

there’s something else convenient to respect

excusesful reasons are always in que

anyone will work if you want it too

they unmodulate symbiotic groups

communication is an endless loop.

 

Dualistic Dynamic Duo

Sometimes i feel like the logical Mr. Spock
sometimes i’m like Captain James T. Kirk
a calibrated clock, does more than go tick tock
Relativistic synergy is part of the cirque.

Sometimes i feel like Gilligan the first mate
sometimes i’m like the Skipper in charge of you
governing operational dynamics, aren’t ever late
Aetherspheric navigation with a smart & small crew.

Sometimes i feel like the mysterious Mr. Roark
sometimes i’m like the vanishing little lost Tattoo
to get what you want now, give it some more torque
Quantumetric differences bond both me and you.

                                         

Geleogenic Kakistocracy

Society infuses your new plight

root cause community peace activism

eliminates the kakistocracy

remove public corporate advertising

reduce and end commercial exposure

trade food seeds with your favorite people

cosmic decoherance evolves the mind

popularize the congressional vote

politicians are public relations

geleogenic society rules.

Spare Change for Peace

Potatoes and tuna fish for dinner

almost free ramen noodles with an egg

worried about what to eat at month’s end

every moment warped with an empty angst

there should be free food everywhere we are

change for peace and the beggars and hungary

random acts of freedom are what’s needed

the starving have jobs and children as well

pay for peace because war is the easy

put freedom on the menu as anything.

That’s That Again

 i do not smell that good smell that you smell

that’s not exactly what you think happened

that is only what you think of sometimes

suspension of that which you over think

that is only what you want me to think

that is what only you want me to think

that’s what you want to think of only me

that’s not what i said or even close to meant

the stove was not left on by me again.

Related articles

Ultra Timeless Reality

 Thirty-three thousand miles per hour

Earth spins on its axis upon light beams

art, physics and outernet connections

time taking up influence and dark space

premature too wrong judgementalism

aetherspheric flow is continuous

reality has thirteen dimensions

predictions are rare and accurate

variation and randomness prevail

art reflects life and philosophy too.

Singular Emotional Hue

A singularity is the last stop

questionable emotional vortex

the anti-quark is equal reaction

being human tissue is not seeing

being is a verb and a true pronoun

everything is red, green, blue in ultra hue

daydreams come true when you are asleep

do be do be goo do good be good too

nothing exists without another it

a unique personality is rare.

Real Fresh Jouissance

The community formed anxiously with a seminar the day Lacan went away,
A formation around a semi round table with psychoanalytic mind play.
A hierarchical unconscious formation of individual energy spheres,
20 years in the making and what’s gone now are most fears.

Freud’s Die Traumdeutung led to Dali’s Rotton Donky,
which gave way to Lacan’s non-imaginary lunati.
Objects have relations to art with technology,
Mirror stage delusions of a mothers decree.

Unconsciously structured like original signifier,
crossing into syntom of an unstructured desire.
Know the treasure of language letting go the drives,
turbulent anxiety offer the body real symptoms with lives.

There is no limit to what the dimensions bring routinely,
sex death and the body we want to more than see.
So what we are all dying at least more than once,
don’t forget the Real fresh surplus-jouissance.

 

Ten Spontaneous Automatism Essentials

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