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ISDN - 2003-09-06 and upon request.
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Content
heaps of cream - 2
[footnotes - patmos interview] - 14
albatrosses, bears and chickens – 15
santa christiana d'aro - 34
sampel four [with footnotes] - 109
yellow oranges - 155
blue sweet - 167
blurbs - 178
[Total number of pages = 178]
heaps of cream
Aegean water washes
In the cupped hands
of the sea a boy is been born.
Olive-green waxed seaweed tangle
around his babyish limbs.
His water mommy caresses his tangerine
fragile body and soft Aegean water
washes washes kisses him
with soft aquamarine tongues.
The precious beauty of this secret moment
s c r e a m s out as the boy
opens his eyes and sees a world coming
into being
just for him.
Thin little knots
Why have
k n i t t e d s e n t e n c e s when boats and the sea
just hang there?
Why have
k n i t t e d s e n t e n c e s when boats
and the sea hang like things on nylon cords?
Why when
the sea is shaped like a bowl?
Why when the boats are toy ships?
Stapled cut-outs on waxed overlaying sheets?
Why when thin little knots for the while tie
semantics and pieces of poems like forget-me-nots?
Like words.
Silicon sealings
A handcut paper boat is folded and
pasted on the smeared canvas of the sea.
And the edges of the sea's canvas silicon and glued onto the sealing of
the sky.
The delineation of this arrangement looks like egg fluid when it has turned
into egg white opaque marmer.
And when things fall off
from the reaches the sealing seems to give way. And there is an ever present
sense
of fisheye bulginess hanging
in the air.
There's no escape from it.
It falls. The falling of sentences.
Bleek and without blood.
The bleeding contorted horizon bleeds it's vital fluid.
Bleeds like a bleeding wound purges.
The outer layers
Stay in fascination.
Stay in wonder.
Get born slowly.
Touch again the outer layers with soft machine
foetal fingers.
Feel the warm vapours.
Feel the hidden familiarities.
Feel the reassuring necessities.
Feel the tearing offs of time.
Feel the wings of time.
Feel the scratching sounds of nylon bodies rasping
against each other.
Feel clarity's startling rasps.
Try.
Terracotta cast iron
Glass vacuumed things
are pierced and base.
And glue drips from it. Broken-up
people lumps are glued together.
They form statues and worlds.
All things look like imitation antique terracotta
cast iron play-models.
Manmade like finite past tenses.
Things are soundless moulds and pasta.
Things weep.
Metal surfaces
Boats are grinded
in their foreign ways. They are foreign.
The sheet metal surface of the sea
is strange.
Scathed burned bone
Feel the slow penetrations as they
pulse against the vision facades.
Feel the eyeball as its screen flares. Feel the … oh
the damage is already done!
Oh, the hurt is turned on.
Oh, the impairment done by it to the sight nerves.
And the sinues, as they are severed. In the nostrils
rise the buffed continuing stench of scathed burned bone.
Like a shout falling
Hear
the
m
i
m S
i m
c a s
k e m
e r a
d c e
v o i d mouth screams
c r s
Hear it!
Oh, do hear it!
Liquid boiled glass
The screeching freezes
like a shout.
Falls like a shout.
F
a
l
l
i
n
g.
F
a
l
l
i
n
g
tears. Tears from polaroid bodies.
Boats of suspense in mid-air.
Toy blown boats from liquid boiled glass.
S l o w m o t i o n s.
Boiling.
Flags
h
a
n
g
i
n
g.
Casts off splinters
Shouts when they break up
sound barriers shatter too
Into thousand crystal cubic shaped pieces.
And the eye when it animates life casts off
its own fragments.
The splinters tear into the retina.
Rubber strands
Boats and the sea are cupped
into bubbles. Boats float.
Boats and the sea float afloat on the see-through horizon.
And they are tied to each other with rubber
strands.
Warm gore
The eyeballs are lashed from their sockets.
They are sprouting blood vessels
Blood bubbles percolate. Body cubes.
Tricklets of blood drool like drops
of warm gore.
D
r
r
i
p
p
i
n
g
into a pool of warm gore.
Quaffs
Membrane fleeces tear like quaffs
tear.
Hear! Hear! Hark!
White shining
The sea's surface
imitates a layered plastic sheet
glued to a crop up imitation of itself.
The sea's surface
duplicates its heaps of white shining niceties.
It's a blanket.
A manifold folded and glued to its frame.
The sea's surface rinses itself.
The kiss
r
e
S t r a n d s Of Refined S a n d b e a c h e s
i
n
e
d
are nailed
onto
The Water Coloured Sea Sheet Front.
Dreg of Soft Soap Foam
S e l
n a k e t s
s
n
a
k
e
l
i
k
e
l
y
follow The Kiss of the Soil
on The Mouth of the Mummy Water Gouache.
The Meek Touch
makes
Everything
all White and Beer D i r t y
and E x q u i s i t e l y Nice y.
Living homilies
Hear the continuous droning
coning coming of the torso cubes.
They are hidden below the collaged surface of the sea.
They rage.
Hear the mechanical droning hunk
of the sea as it r e v er be r a t e s
and persists. It is a living homily.
It q u i v e r s against the beer soil chunks of the landhand holds.
It t h rus t s like a drilling's goings on.
It r a m s deep into the bone marrow of stone and its pipes slurp and
burp like waves of crawl vermin.
But then it shakes it's hands and re-enacs friendship.
And this goes on and on and on and on on on on on on on on on on on on
on on on on on on on on on on on on without feeling.
Without recognition.
Colon marrow fluff
Nylon glue cords suspend
the steel sea's rig.
Bodies hang precariously.
Beer soiled land moulds float.
Fluid drill hammers suck up pipe-colon marrow-fluff.
From the heart of the land-cube basket
belligerent humps kiss each other.
Silicon vein tubes revebreates.
And the smell sniffs like incubated sicknesses.
And through wet throats pus pass from vent to mouth. And grey rotten muck
gurgles through the aortha.
Sewer pipes pluckes mucus slime.
In the eye screen discs stiff lassos and foamy curlings jostle.
And gravity reeks tight.
The vertical wall of the sea's face
Gluey boats stick to the vertical
wall of the sea's face.
The paper cup boaty kinks and the wet plastic cloth of the sea wrinkle.
Oh, there is no dis-
po sitio n.
The cast iron sea's chunk is welded so tight
onto the soft loft of the beer boiled coloured stone of the land hold.
The tight frozen fix is sucked.
The grip of it is tight.
And there is the smell of hot burning bone marrow. And again and again
and the kisses of the kiss-line coasts drifts
away.
Look away!
Oh, look again! Never to look away again!
Moist mouths
Moist mouths whines
with chainsaw vile continuation.
Drilling pipes waste up mud.
Pump it up.
And dirty laced white frillings
and jelly are stringed into a knot.
And snakelet S wretch in slimy casks. N
A
Hear how the ear hears K
Feal the Ear hearing.
See the decaying filth and the L
See the gum pus. Smell the S t E n c h
as it gurgles the T through the throat
cube S.
As the vomiting s p as m s of bulged bows disturb the colours in the outskirts.
Mountain body flesh
The beer coloured stumps of soil
land chunks
lacerate and cut into mountain body flesh.
Into wound marrow.
White rubber sausage drills ooze out venom.
Fresh meat makings grow from the rotten bobbed heart.
The socket case cubes spill over.
The pang of the burst thrusts and rings.
And more sounds come from accross the horizon's berth bed linings
while the combustion of filthy compressed air smells.
The severing of entrails
The timely tiny boats blob explodes
as it is riveted onto the seeded seabed's canvased lace.
The moving body moves
Oh with such stupendous exactitude.
The bowels burst open giving birth to severing entrails.
The grilled racks of bodies decay.
Sour smelling ripe drippings ooze from the wounds.
The basalistic eggs slob their way and the fragile bobtailed sperm larva
worms speed.
The burning scathe
The eyeball screen fences boil like
rapids of decay.
They burn like fever.
The burning scathes deep into the sight nerves.
It continues as it thrusts.
Then it refuses it's continuation.
It starts to disturb.
Then it continues it's continuation.
Now it refuses to stop.
It will never stop again.
Never stop.
Never never stop.
Never will it stops the probing and the pus production.
It will never stops its gurglng.
Decayed puslike fluff
Through the steel pipes the gurgle
sticks it's stickey feelers into the inner sea bowl casks.
It reaches into the deep of the sea.
It probes into the cores of the sea's refinery intestines.
It churns.
It bellows.
It bulges.
It swells as it turns and fills bucket cubes with slimy
mucus makings.
It reaches upwards.
Begging.
Begging into the cubed hands of the soiled beer land hump holds.
The incubated rotting decaying puslike fluff ferments.
It ferments under the skin.
Below sea level
The sea has sunken below
sea level.
It softly busied itself with the lining
of the inner antechamber.
It is papering its womb with silver shining aluminium folio sheets.
Making the inner spaces ever so gently. So nicely smooth.
Upside down
And then the sea nailed itself to
the hump
of the main soil land hulk.
It hanged there
upside down like a cloth cast in iron.
It hanged from the sealing of the sky.
It hanged across the deteriorating sheets of metal sky skin.
The pockmark boat spots blobbed indicating the kind
of diseases that is being bred.
And what deadly virus' incubates in the bowl
tubes of inner intestines. What soiling mucus growth in the viscera
of the underwater industry.
Cankerous boil
The cankerous boil in the sea's stomach
swells slow ly
as it ferments.
It g r ows as it g r ow s u p w a r d s
t o w a r d s
the cellophane skin filamented outer corpus layer.
Pus oozes again.
The boil crack bre aks open.
Poisonous sore seeps out.
Mounts. Makes way. Seeps
through vo i d u n f o l d e d s p a c e
Defensive shields
The shattering of the sea's
d
r
i
l
l
i
n
g
sounds in the isolated bubbled emptiness.
The booming rumble echo echo echo drains.
The defensive shields of the eye fracture.
B
Slowly b l o o d tickles.
Drips d o wn
o
d.
The eardrum membranes shatter as the howl
of the sea penetrates the hidden nerve stream.
The crystal shafts pipe up muck
and continue.
The sizzling in the ear drives on.
Mushrooming it heightens.
The silver lining flesh rips open.
The main vein severs.
The underwater industry
The sea's fleece
surfaces mechanically as it
s t r e t c h e s itself and transforms itself.
It folds into a solid stainless skin barrier
holding itself down under the din of the underwater industry.
But still,
the wavy noise drones seep through the air. One can hear it still. And
the concentric wave patterns quiver and shake as they tighten and loosen
and roll from the fleece giving way slowly to the eardrum membranes hitting
their epicentra.
With gentle morse pin hits
As if a S t r a n g e
separate-from-the-main-frame-industrial-body-o f-the-sea-b e i n g
the outer sheetlike skin layers live.
They vibrate.
They move.
Contract like thin layers of jelly. Like fragile filament membranes Skins.
The b e i n g breaths.
It osmoses its sticky sound droplets.
And as it lives it smells.
Making head
In the e p i c e n t r u m of the
sea
(not far from the land s t r a n d) a hump rises slowly.
T e s t i ng
the membrane sheet layers.
A p h a l l u s is making head.
As it grows it climbs.
It wrinkles the layered fleeces as they weaves concentric waved rubber
rings.
It rolls.
It lives. It mimics the inhaling-exhaling sound
of breathing within cellophane wrinkled paper.
[Patmos Interview - footnotes]
the argo spier patmos interview - writers past and present
The abundance of free cross-country
tracks, the open spaces and small hills and hilltops on Patmos are most
suitable for slow long-haul cross-country running. And that's precisely
why I went to the island, to train on a short mid-season holiday for a
summer mountain climb I had planned in the French Alps later that year.
With my heavy climbing boots on and full gear I did 20 kilometres a day.
And this all around the island. I went over mountaintops, through open
spaces in the centre, to small and remote hidden beaches and discovered
most of the beautiful and tranquil secluded hideouts on the island.
But then I experienced something
I hadn't planned for! Whenever I took time to rest I couldn't help but
notice the changing colours all around me. I wasn't really prepared for
it, but I discovered different tones and shades of light and their interaction
wherever I went. It was all around me and it slowly awoke a sense of awareness
in me! I watched how the colours played and changed in the sky, in the
water and over the horizon. And I got hooked on watching it. In the end
I seemed more concerned with this than the training. It moved me in a
peculiar way and aroused raw, screaming emotion in me. I just had to start
writing down the little thoughts I had and I searched for word combinations
that might later serve as ‘post-its’ for a journey back down
this memory lane. On my return home I drafted from these notes the most
lachrymose verses of my career. First I called them ‘Patmos Poems’
then just 'Sea Poems', but now, with the heading 'Heaps of Cream', they
are included in the poetic sequences collected under the title 'Blue Sweet'
and form an introduction to it. I am however not the first and only writer
to have had these colour experiences on the island. In the first century
after Christ, St. John, that great storyteller and father figure to many
Europeans and orthodox believers around the world, already incorporated
colour metaphors into his literature. In his Apocalypse, Chapter 21:19-20,
which was written on the island during his banishment there, he used the
metaphor of gemstones to describe the colours he experienced on Patmos:
jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, sardius, chrysolyte,
beryl, topaz, chrysoprasus, facinth and amethyst.
I remember reading his verses among cosy gatherings of nudists, whose
staple diet seemed to be Retsina and plates of fresh Calamari. I indulged
too but I was really much more concerned with how I was experiencing the
same play of colours as St. John so many centuries ago.
The thought of this, and the privilege
of having had his work in the original text alongside the Gideon Bible's
four-language translation of it, brought on an awesome sense of connection
with him, his time, his literature, Patmos and the metaphor of 'living
light'. I am absolutely sure he could NOT have written his Apocalypse
in any other place in the world but Patmos. And taking this to be the
case, his metaphor of the gemstones wasn't such a novel find after all.
The colours do look like that on Patmos! He just wrote down what he saw.
My ‘Jeaps of Cream’ was also simply a 'writing down' of the
colour-experience. I couldn't have written it anywhere else in the world
either.
… But, talking of St. John's
literature, my work is of course not in the least to be compared with
the power and authority of his. There's only the 'Patmos connection' that
creates any link between us. Whereas St. John reached out with his metaphors
to reach every human soul on earth, I merely answered my own, and the
'mechanical droning' of colour as it 'drilled' itself into my soul. St.
John's work is of such an unbelievably high quality and purity …
oh, you should read it on Patmos when you are there! It's Greek and it's
much more… as is the island!
albatrosses, bears and chickens
1. the ABC of a poem
A farmer came up to me
and he said
'Albatrosses Bears
Chickens Donkeys Eagles
Funny Small Things
Gofers
Hares
Ice birds
Jays
Klinkhorns
Lemmings
Monkeys
New Animals
Opal-Eyed Animals
Pippins
Qwakkies
Roadrunners Nice Ones
Snakes
Teddies
Unicorns
Voetzies
Water cows
Xessis Of All Kinds
Yellow Barkers
Zombies
'What do you think of that?'
'A lot of stuff
you got there! You farming with it?
But eh say a link-a-word basis
for poetry … I don’t know about that!'
'Yes no banners
I don’t like it with banners!'
2. Don't
Don't string words
don't string
'em
up
as
if
they
are
stringy like things
Or ropes
Words aren't made
for that
or and so
on
So don't
roll 'em down
in
long
columns
Don't
drag 'em out
in strings
Don't use 'em as things
One can stack
don't try to make poems
out of words
And never
drag poems out long
l
o
n
g'
See?
3. market your poetry
Market your poems
its easy say
Why don't you go
for big companies
companies in big cities
sell your work out there?
Sell them quick
and get your stuff out
fast and big
plan the thing
but do it quick
sell 'em even before you
have written ‘em
wagon load of 'em
with stradegy
big concerns
can put up name tags
and advertisement
for your poetry
they’ll do it
and you save on the cost
get into multifunctional
projects schemes
use the same print
over and over
again
it saves money
cover all your books
with adds
anyway
on the big board
advertise big
get your poems on them
fast
people love that
big companies will love it
too
they will buy your books
from you
and hand it out as free samples
they’ll do anything
to get prospective customers
and people will come storming
to your door
oh yes you can start this thing
my god you could
become big
even get different angles
this is how it works
on a farm, no?
4. farming such
And then the farmer dug into
analysing the phenomenon
called poetry
and he explained to me
what to do
with what words
and
how to do it
with those words
and then he brought
our discussion
back to the selling technique
again
Sell 'em on the highway
he said
Isn’t that dangerous
I wanted to know
One never knows when one gets
hooked on that sort
of high for good
Oh it doesn't matter
the farmer replied
Use all sorts of people
you know from
everywhere
people need poems
they love poems
important people
love poems
People working
on the radio
love poems
those people
they broadcast
poems
everyday
they create the need
for it
TV-people
mass-media people
journalist people
other writers
all the people
they all love poems
art people
culture people
real people
people who know
about poems
those people
critics you know
but mostly people
who count
those people
people
they are important
those who
associate themselves
with poems
good poems
there's no end to it
See? Easy!
5. anthologies
There was no stopping
to him
Put anthologies
in hotels free
like Gideon bibles
Salmon's got to
sponsor it though
think about it
And
use doctors nursing
staff etc
Horseshoe man
think about it
Institutes and
hospitals
psychiatric Centers
neuro-pschyciatric pmaces
Doctors 're easy catch
they have money
and no time
no time to read
into the finest detail
the will never know
what they read
there's the loophole
No?
And they’ll prescribe
poems
to their patients
it theraphy
see sick people
have much time on their hands
nurses will organise
poem readings
in waiting rooms
they’ll built-in intervals
of talk sessions
and poetry
group activities
think about it
sick people
and poetry
they can't complain
That’s poems
your poems
hospital poetry
no complaints
= your poems
= amusement for the sick
and the dying
Oh yes
that will take people's minds
off life = happiness
= your poetry
Oh that'll be smart'
and it'll work
6. take aeroplanes
And oh man
your poems will sell
take aeroplanes
f'instance pilots
they fly aeroplanes don't they?
give 'em free copies
to start with
you know what I mean?
Charm the cabin staff
air hostesses
they have mouths
nice ones
they can whisper poems
into the ears of trouble maker
passengers
Oh yes poetry duty free
Argo Spier poems
duty free
and all that
all over the world
Poems in foreign
countries
poems spreading
poetry
Ebola virusses
style
Aids
Figs
Saïda
Pneumonia Hong
Kong
Influenza
Imploy interval
tactics in between
meals that kind
of thing yes
poems
on in-flight poetry schemes
on the movie screens
poems in between weather
broadcasts
poems on
inter-continental radio's
poems oh yes
across the globe
N A S A
the moon
Just push your
poems
man go man go
Be careful here
though
they got the FBI
and the CID
etc
and Al Qaida
border control
anyway
just don't funk it up
hush it at first
ggggggood advice
= hush it
and when you come out
come out big
not too soon either
… see?
7. schedule your moves
And when you move
just be ready for it
for the Big Time
harvest
Then you move
via condias
mail-order schemes
pyramides
glossy paper
yellow
red
lord any colour
of prints
And poems by post
think about it
poems
orders will come
in by the stacks
go into every home
of the planet
think about it
poems in every home
Use variation
different covers
for the same anthology
double up the song
later
and you can put up
your own company
MBMWords
or somthing = Maybe
Money Without Rearping
Dung
Or LWCFSD
Poetic Societies
= Look Who Comes
For Argo Spier etc.'
And you take all the profit
And another thing
read poems in onto tapes
high density good quality
Maxwell tapes
there's lots of spaces
on tapes
Put in music
more music than poems
it saves on writing poems
make it easy
also for the blind
Go for it
3 and a half inch
floppies
cd-roms
600 megabytes
harddisks
a lot of poems
give 'em a lot of poems
your poems
quality poems
day and night
night and day
in cars on walkmen
radio tape decks
etc.
And once again
the covers
make nice covers
Valentine covers
love and women
and such
convert poems
to *.gif files
and *.jpg's
But no porn
oh just watch porn
the sky's the limit
especially
with the new developments
in the field
of electronics of late
seond law of thermodynamica
And also go for
the cigarette industry
people are stopping to smoke
nowadays
sales are going down and all
cash in on that fast
all the smoke
companies
are burning out
fast
and that's all
over the world
What you need
is what everybody
needs publicity
campaigning
big things
that sort of things
you know?
People need poetry
tell yourself that
they need
good poems
that sort of thing
poems
your poems'
8. flavoured poetry
Poetry
with a cultural flavour
sponsored flavours
imagine poems
on cigarette packets
with small script
warnings
something like that
even poems on fags
poems printed
on fag papers
people’ll inhale poems
at say 20 a day
think = literature
= publicity
Oh people will be
onto your poems
in no time
your poems
will hang like banners
all over the place
will be used in slogans
on front-pages
of magazines
and there's Internet
TV-spots
(check with the TV people
first)
newspapers
T-shirt selling sessions
Yeah
Start off here
start write here
on your own
doorstep
sell to your neighbour
But move slowly
check developments
and social backgrounds
check downtown
next city
next country
continents
galactica
Fame man
I'm talking about
fame
take what you can get
America
Europe
Latin places
South
any places
west
stay onto west
or ok then also take east
but not China
and Third-World
or Russia
The globe man
print your poems
say on cheap paper
wallpaper
you can afford that
make more profit
more money such
and Africa
oh no cut Africa
they 're hungry
there
there's wars out there
too much religion
and no food
and no money
they'll rather eat your poems
without buying ‘em
And there's
the leaders of the world
the prime ministers
the NATO people
their friends
And movie stars
Hollywood peole
princesses
promoters
plain everybody people
councils
bureaucrats
teachers
All of them got money
all of them like poems
sell your poems to them
its fast money
things'll come rolling in
acclaim
fame etc.
once you've reached
the top
Oh and from there
There's only the sky
left
Keep your eye on
the sky
and go-a-go amigo'
And he kept on
argumenting
anything poems
he said
think about it
etc. but keep your cool
don't tell anybody
about your moves
It's un-be-lieve-able
= your poems!'
'Sure it is!'
And consider
to write smaller
to be new with it
attract attention
‘That way?’
In a clever way
because then you
can hush up
your real stuff
your real intentions
deconstruction etc.
secret messages to lovers
and groupies
202 + 504 room numbers
real values
and the higher poems
But then again say
maybe you should
consider to write
bigger
for speed
and faster output
No?
Yes bigger
make your work bigger
get it out quicker'
'Oh that way yes!'
Quicker yes
when everybody is asleep
you come out
and you hit the big one
Write poems double
sized
or triple sized New times Roman
even make letters A4 size
big as foothills
it fills books faster
than anybody else can
and you stay in the compitition
Oh you really can
fill 'em
one book = one poem
say
ten poems = ten anthologies
one anthology = one book
Your whole work = an
encyclopaedia
You'll need houses
and houses for your work
think about it
(I thought about it)
You can even go
into the shelves business
-es
for that matter
that way you not only
move fast with your work yes
but you also cover
all the important issues
thoroughly quick too
And that's a plus
point for poetry
I mean look at all
the competition
and stuff
and at all
the goings on in
the field of literature
and such
today
Look at the poetry
workshops
and the stacks
and stacks
of poems
that are produced
every day
just look
at the stores
there are some good
writers in there
good good poets'
'I know'
Good good poets
in those stores
the pressure for poets
is quite heavy
in there
And these days
are different
don't you think?
one's got to put in
more programming
into poetry
otherwise you won't
keep up
with life and stuff
and such
Next time when
you write a poem just
write it faster
faster than life say
live it afterwards
Eh?
Faster
just move faster move
Aries man
move Aries faster
you've got to go
faster see
don't wait
for the interiors of 'em poems
to ripen up
Use tricks
paint the skins (like I paint my oranges
orange)
You have to
faqua up the system
write 2 poems
for the price of one
serial work
2 at the same time
save out on life
Hurry!
And then it was over
his arguments ran out
Man what a drag
he said and he became
very sad
It's like you know?
you know what you want
to do and all
and you're proud of yourself
and all
and you feed your stuff
on the farm
and man but
somehow
you get tired of it all
Especially towards
the dark side of the day
when your stuff
is tucking itself in
You had reckoned
you had your contingency
plans and all
and then you notice
you didn't needed 'em
after all
Such see?
The farm had farmed
itself anyway and you
know what I mean?
it seems so
oh it
man you get to think
maybe you switch the stuff
you farm with
Albatrosses Bears Chicken
and Donkeys do people
really want poetry?
Oh farmer I said
I really know what you mean
santa christiana d'aro
1. poem for Hullabaloo the Blare
Do write
this poem for me
you Hullabaloo the Blare
a poem in which I am Hullabaloo
the Blare - your Queen Her Majesty
Hullabaloo the Blare and you -I
the King His Highness
Hullabaloo the Blare
2. taken away
The time being 4.08 am the 12th
of July 1993
the place … Santa Christina golf
club Costa Brava
and there was rain
on the plains
The rain in Spain stays
mainly on the plain
My Fair Lady page 5
bixto & co
And there was a poet
and there was something else too
oh Hawkinas cum Penrose's hole
was there
it had sucked the poet in
a strange new world of its own
had opened up for him
And he was in this world
3. a universe of his own
And in this new world
a certain thinness of poetry reigned
poetry was only Wallpaper poetry
thin layer on the wall
and on the market
there was nothing else
to buy
it was all on the wall that the inverted world
of New Poetry opened up
it started to bloom like a flower
In a vase on a table
And there
was a Muse too
And
shoe fool ... why
do you explain so much?
Come to bed with me
4. kind touch
Oh poempy doempy poe-
oem
today this and this day tomorrow
and what day any other day
is it today?
Oh what is it?
oh what is it we can expect
of it
from life?
5. muse’s word
‘See … that's what's
wrong
with you’ she said ‘… you
don't know what you want’
‘No?’
‘Yes! I know what you need
Come pick up something’
(the poet picked up something)
'And that!'
(And he pick up that too
and again and again he picked up
whatever his hand find to do)
‘Pick up those poems
… those ones on the floor
they untidy the room’
He bent down to pick them up
but the weight of it all - the drafts
of it
there were too many -
was far too heavy for him
Too many paper poems scripts
and his song
'Oooeee aaghhh ahhhh!
my back my back!'
6. her beautiful eyes
'See? You do what I say!'
‘Oh what beautiful eyes do
you have
lovely Muse
'Don't you slime with me ... bent
down!
Try it again'
Oh poempy doempy poe-oem
what kind of poempy-oem are you?
7. rhythms and the sterner you
I don't mean love and all
that soap
oh I don't mean love at all
I mean being alive awake
and some tulips
snow
the snow that has fallen here
and Spring
the Spring that will come
soon
and simple things
rhythms and the sterner growing
you
Women lovers
autumn leaves
Oh I don't mean love and all
that soap
oh I don't mean love at all
I mean being alive awake
and some tulips
on the table
snow
the snow that has fallen here
and Spring that will come
soon
and simple things
rhythms and the sterner growing
me
8. summer thighs are mine
Water the river
the scorching run ... your return
your a short visit
your running back to me
the transformation of a heart
keyring into a heart
my heart
yours
Oh I don't mean love!
I mean being alive awake … some
tulips on walls and tables
snow
the snow that has fallen here
and spring that will be come
soon
simple things
rhythms and rhyme
and the sterner growing
you and me
Women lovers
autumn leaves
summer women's thighs
mine
thighs are mine mine
your tighs
soon
I mean water the river
the scorching run … my coming
home to you
- a long stay -
my running back to you
the transformation of a heart
keyring into a heart
your heart in mine
Oh I don't mean love at all
I mean poetry!
'Yes? You have said that twice now
Did you mean it twice too?'
Yes its like you put flowers on
the table you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk
and butter there is water in your plate water on your bread water all
over you you don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you
threw the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor you get up you slip
on the mush you hurt your back you don't like that you think why you had
put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look at you you
are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes
an old man they ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man all
crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or something someone
knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water
in your plate water on your bread water all over you you didn't like that
you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor
it mushed up the floor you got up you slipped on the mush you hurt your
back you didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table
why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old man you don't
like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man everybody's gone ask
you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and bent
askew you put flowers on the table or something someone knocked it over
when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water on your plate
water on your bread water all over you didn't liked that you didn't want
to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed up
the floor you got up you slipped on the mush you hurt your back you didn't
like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table are you still
in love with that woman what will your wife say why you had made it nice
why you had look at you you are like an old man you don't like that nobody
likes that nobody likes an old man'
'Why did you do that?'
‘I wanted to make it nice’
'Why did you put flowers on the
table then?'
9. in the midst of the dark night
I got up in the middle of the night
say at 4.08 am
I looked out through the window
it was stark dark outside
and dark inside
stark
as it was dark
'Somebody's outside!'
It was a golfer!
a midnight late night golfer
trying to hit
a midnight early ball
in the run of the mill
on the course
of course
I saw how he hit
a ball and how
he lost it
And how
he was looking for the ball
in the midst of the dark
of the night
(And easing towards the window
the poet step on a lost shoe)
'Oooeee aaghhh ahhhh!
my back my back!'
(He twisted skew
reached for a cane
step on a Teddy that was lost too)
(He slipped on the teddy
and waggled like a duck)
(And tumbled head over heels
into the French window smashing
both frame and glass)
'Oooeee aaghhh ahhhh!
my back my back!'
And in the freedom
of his own bedroom
the Muse stirred slowly
a small timid sparrow
waking up
'Hey poet!
What's that noise? What's happening?
Burglers, is it? Not slipping
on bread mush are you?’
(the poet groped for a deckchair
on the other side of the window
- the one he lifted from the proprietor's
pool -
it rocked over
'Oeee agh ahhhhhh my back!
my back!'
(He tumbled with my head
into the balcony's grid)
'Oeee agh ahhhhhh my back!
my back!'
***
'Oh you terrible wonderful fool
oh croocked man
where do you go to in the light
of this dark?'
10. dressed up gofers
How dressed up gofers are
like real golfers they are
how important it is for them
to hit the small poor petite
little tiny innocent golf ball
from one side
of the course
to the other
side
of the course
Hey you Amazon gum haters!
The little ball roll into
a ball in a hole
it tries to hide
it rolls over grass
trying ferroseously to hide
but nah nah huh-ugh
its no good
‘Oh you poor little ball!’
11. the score
Plain gum balls have
no chance with gofers
oh gofers find 'em
always
Yes they find them
and then they work it out
on Mister Gum Ball
The ball try to score
and hide
nah nah no goody
for Mister Gum Ball
and friends
12. like poets they try to score
But they don't
At least
and however you can say
when working it out
on ballies Mister Gofers
Oh they don't work it out
on women
and that's positive
there's that poet's difference
there
‘No? Yes?’
Gofers go for Amazon
for gum
not women
Oh the persistence
they have
and they never give it up
and always they find
that little smally little bally
‘Its amazing!’
First they hit it
sending it to hell and gone
into the worst kind
of shrubs one can get it into
then they hit the shurbs
for hiding the ball
then they find Mister Bally
and boy does he get it again
then
Cruel! Hey
you Amazon gum haters!
Even when the ball
tries to slide hushy-hushy
hide quitely
into sandy patches
they find it in there
Oh they know how to find
that little ball
they're addicted to finding
that little ball
oh no peace for that little
gum ball
no peace for rubber gum
at all
no peace at for balls
'Yes I know … come back
To bed now its late!'
13. Camouflage
Those people
they aren't poets of this day
and age actually
you know?
they just sport the camouflage
'Yes I know … come back
To bed now its late!'
Oh see how proud they are
when wearing their Armani shoes
and Lacosta coffee shirts
I don't need those extra's
do I?
'No you don't.
Come back to bed!'
Do I boast about my poems?
'No you don't'
Really?
Don't I?
And my women?
'Shut-up and come back to bed!'
Ok
14. my stick
My stick is different than any
man's Cane and Abel turf
I am different
I am a different man
I am a poet
I am different to them and you
Ok there's that brotherhood
thing
of one mankind
but don't push it
And the difference is
I got a stick
other men and you
don't have sticks to lean on
and my stick's got a sharp point
that's the difference
Oh canus lupus lumbago
Oh flowers on the table you put
flowers on the table you make it nice…They knock it over when reaching
for the milk and butter there is water in your plate water on your bread
water all over you you don't like that you don't want to make it nice
anymore you knock the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor you get
up you slip on the smooch you hurt your back you don't like that you think
why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look
at you you are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody likes that
nobody likes an old man they ask you hey why you walk like that like an
old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or something
someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter or what all
that water in your plate water on your bread water all over you you didn't
like that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread
on the floor it mushed up the floor you got up you slipped on the smooch
you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers
on the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an
old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man
everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man
all crooked and bent over you put flowers on the table or something someone
tossed sand in your eyes when reaching for milk and butter or what all
that water on your plate water on your bread water all over you didn't
liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you tossed sand in
his eyes and on the bread on the floor it dirtied up the floor you got
up you slipped you go to the opera in Vienna on poems or something you
hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers
on the table why you had made it nice why you had look at you you are
like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an
old man
'Why did you do that?'
‘I wanted to make it nice’
'Why did you put flowers on the table then?'
15. anyway
Anyway good people those gofer poets
are
those Amazon gum hitters
they are good poets really
if you want me to look at it
from that angle
they are good people!
they hit gum hard
they seek out gum
hard
no peace for that hard gum
they never stop never stop
never!
and that makes them good!
in that respect they're like poets
but re the sharpness of their clubs
Mine's much sharper
16. onto the easy lawn
Every gofer has his own stick
and his own set of balls
'How many balls?
those balls … how many?'
No good golfer will tell you
that
never
he will never tell you that
They cheat with their balls …
did
you know that?
they loose one and then they shuff
a hidden one onto the easy lawn
(I saw that many times
through my window
yes they do that)
But boy no no they will never tell
anyone how many balls they have
least of all to a fellow gofer
that's known standard
among all gofers
'No but honestly how many?'
Oh if only I hadn't suffered
with the bread mush on the floor
I could have golfed too
Listen!
never put flowers on the table!
never fall in love with Qicong!
my oh mia Procnias alba'
look you put flowers on the table you make it nice they knock it over
when reaching for the milk and butter there is water in your plate water
on your bread water all over you you don't like that you don't want to
make it nice anymore you knock the bread on the floor it mushed up the
floor you get up you slip on the smooch you hurt your back you don't like
that you think why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it
nice why look at you you are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody
likes that nobody likes an old man they ask you hey why you walk like
that like an old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the
table or something someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and
butter or what all that water in your plate water on your bread water
all over you you didn't like that you didn't want to make it nice anymore
you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor you got up you
slipped on the smooch you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought
why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look
at you you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody
likes an old man everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that
like an old man all crooked and bentd askew you put flowers on the table
or something someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter
or what all that water on your plate water on your bread water all over
you didn't liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked
the bread on the floor it kiss up the floor you got up you slipped on
the spit you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had
put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why you had look at
you you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody
likes an old man'
'Why did you do that?'
‘I wanted to make it nice’
'Why did you put flowers on the
table then?'
17. small titties
To come back to the golfers' balls
balls are like titties
big titties are nice
but not too big
small titties are small
but not too small
I mean if you take it at that
all kinds of titties are ok
'As we used to say
in the sexist club...'
Titties and ball resemble
each other
especially in psycho-analitic
situations
'No good punch
+ too too oeee sexistic'
'Oh no I am not
sex-ist!’
Smile and what if I were to say
that fat ladies are the best thing?
'Would that be sexist?'
Or if I were to say
that fat ladies bring out the mother
in you?
And what when you have
a canus lupus lumbago back
like mine from trying to please
Muses and ladies
what can you do?
Shall I give you good advice
anyway oh that'll cure your sexism?
hurt your back and then join
the ladies at the Weight Watchers
Club and you will see
Weight Watchers women will
straighten you out
They will teach you how
to walk on water and smile
again
and in the end your back
won't be a matter anymore
at all
They'll teach you
how to walk with your head
high in the sky
again
without a cane
'Bet on it?'
You can ask me!
I know!'
'How do you know?
Why how come really why?
how do you know?'
‘Doesn't matter man
I know … just join 'em
join Weight Watchers' women
you'll cope better
with the literature
I shuffling on to you
Wallpaper poetry’
18. you didn't think?
You didn't think I was
comparing poetry to women
did you?
I didn't think you would
Anyway… Weight Watchers People's
women are the best
there is no room for skinny
scalpel people
and that's what I like!
‘You got that
From Randy Newman!'
‘Yes I have and what about
it?’
* [It was at this stage that I really
began to wonder whom I was
talking to in Santa Christiana D'Aro
and whether Wallpaper poetry
was any worth at all...]
'The Muse … is she a woman
or a man?'
19. very silly of me
Your cane's too long
saw it off
No I can't do that
how would I look
with a sawed-off cane?
what would the people say?'
Hey look they would say
look he's got a sawed-off cane!
no I can't do that
that would be very silly of me
to do that
everybody would laugh at me
And besides
its at the top its too long
not at the bottom
I don't want to cut it
off at the top
and at the bottom?
Well that wouldn't solve
the problem now would it?
20. any kind of literature
What is he doing
with his sawed-off cane?
trying to hit golf balls?
Come on laugh
at you me with us
laugh at your own expence
one can hit literature
with any kind of stick
as long as you hit it
the write way
'Anyway…'
21. those panties and see-through blouse
‘The man next door
He's watching me!'
What's wrong with that
I watch you?
'He watches me
when I hang up the washing'
What's wrong with that
I watch you when you? You!
'Remember those panties?'
What panties?
'Those panties and see-through
blouse
the ones you gave me this Christmas
two years ago'
I don't follow
you were hanging up
the panties and see-through
blouse
I gave you those ? The panties and a see-through
Blouse?
Two Christmasses ago?
Did I?
And neighour's looking?
What is he looking at?
The washing?
'Yes … no!'
And I bought it
at Christmas time?
[I sensed intrigue]
'Have you forgotten about it?
Erpemere Sun Parks?
… panties?
the see-through blouse?
you forgot it was Christmas
and you had to stop at that truck shop
for my presents'
She sighed and looked far out
across the lawn
to where the neighbour was watching
pretending to work in his backyard
'Oh it is so hot in this place'
Yes now I remember … but why
is he watching you?
Oh you got the panties and see-through
blouse ... on that’s nice
I see
Now the neighbour
was not really looking at her
I thought
Not by judging his gait
And slow strole up and down
his lawn
he was watching the sky
challencing whatever star
that mesmerises his own
in broad daylight
His head was high into the sky
his head was round
look at jis eyes in it
and oh … look at his work
head in the sky and walking
and pulling weed
beding down
and up
how neat
(She sighed again)
'Ooooooooh it's so hot!'
Only then I noticed
she was really wearing her see-through
blouse and panty I had bought her
two Christmasses ago
and I saw the little mussles
in her thigh
as she streches and stretches
to get the washing on the line
22. a poet too
Neighbour is a literature man
a poet too
he watches sky
and he look across fences
and lawns
and checking washing lines
for action
for a poem to make
his day
But he hasn't got a cane
Mine's nice … no?
but boy is his garden neater
Very carefully drafted
poems aren't worth much though
but Garden Poetry is
and fragile one's wear better
on the dreams
and mm panties and see-through blouses
over heated bibs and the thighs
the small muscles
Oh my oh mine…' the muse remarked
with a sneer
23. be careful
Be careful I said
there's a lot of sun out there
at the washing line
And then I saw the neighbour's
wife across the lawn and fence
write there at their washing line too
working hanging up washing
streching streching
in see-through blouse
and panty too
And I heard her say
audibly enough for me to hear
'Ooooooooh it's so hot
in this sun!'
My go yes I remember
That Christmas … it was
winter hell’s hot as cold steaming fire
breezy summer
24. I started to hum a piece
I started to hum a piece
from a book a draft
Oh Mrs Chatterly
will I sing you a song?
a working in the garden song?
I am singing in the rain
I am happy again
on the plains of Spain
if it wasn't for my back
I'd jumped up
and down on your bed
if it wasn't for my back
I'd taken you
to dinner at Pierre Victoire's'
Oh hey ho mussels
with French dille
mussles and camille
But the song wasn't a poem
of mine or a draft
it was from a movie
... and it had arrived inverted
in a movie
with flowers and flowers
on the Wall
(It was the bloody washing line
that got me!)
25. eroneous zones
Next morning I got bored
with pushing poetry morn and night
gardening was a better thing
pulling weed
(And I thought about
the vulgarity of my work
but mostly about see-through blouses
eroneous zones and muscles
on thighs)
‘Oh that’s steep!’
Oh you're a dreampy poempy
Oempy eater
you gallop down my dreamp eamp
Oempy oems
Why?
My poems are not yours
no they're not!
'Girl you're naughty!'
And I thought of the following
remark as an ending to this poem
You're mine!
all mine … at the washing line
not his
(And then I went back
to Christiana D'Aro
and started to write this poem)
Washing line washing line
26. real woman – a sexist poem
The sun moved into the sky
the golfers moved into a position
of looking too
looking for their balls
on knees and hands
all across the course
A poem can never replace
a woman
'Are you sure?'
A real woman that is
have I not tried?
Real women are the ones
living in your brain
the good ones
the ones with no clothes on
always warm
the forever young ones
check that song of Cliff
Richard
stay as young as he
don't smoke and become
an evangelical
that covers the money
side too
money for a song about Christ
'Those ones...'
They have mouths and long hair
blond black ash shit it doesn't matter
etc.
no poem etc.
no woman etc.
Real poems that are
the ones living in your brain
the good ones
the ones with no clothes on
always warm
the forever young ones
check that song of Cliff
Richard again
(This is the second verse)
Stay as young as him again
become a poet not a singer
'Those ones…'
They have mouths and long hair
blond black ash shit it doesn't matter
etc.
no woman etc.
a poem etc.
And so on
27. never compare women
You start off write
you come out wrong
you start off wrong
you come out wrong
you don't start
you come out wrong
Man there's nothing
you can do about that
And that's that too
this poem has had it too
Never compare a woman
to a poem
it doesn't work
A poem to a woman
it doesn't work
don't even try it
not even a little
a very tiny teeny weeny bitty
little bit
'It does NOT work!'
Not even a very tiny
teeny weeny bitty smally little bit
'It just does NOT
Saguinus oedipus funking work
never!'
'How do you know?'
'Doesn't matter I know!'
28. balls on the course
It was mid-noon
at the line high noon Patty Boon
my back was somewhat back
again
I was feeling such and so
and ok
and adrenaline
seemed to be zapping
rising
growing strong
Canus lupus lumbago
Why are the golfers hitting
gum balls over and over again
over and accross the green
of the course?
Why of course on the course?
Who looks after their women
while they're chasing gum?
on the course on the course?
Canus lupus lumbago
Gustav Verdi blah-bla
leave after the first act! Don
Giovanni silly
and go to a hotel room
then Wahlverwantschaften
'Are you reading writing this?'
'Si of course but leave Mahler
Josephe out of it! He is Van the Man!'
‘And Giovianni then?
They got him?’
Or no … go
to see the zoo
and when you return wait
for me at Moore's man
(My god at this stage
I thought
encryption what does it do to my work
its terrible! Etc.)
'Hallo no I can't make it
this afternoon
got some washing to hang up the line'
she wrote on the back of a fag pack
Marlborow’s Cancer Cowboy
29. harder in the garden
Neighbour started to work
More concientiously in his garden
it was getting hotter
and hotter
the grass longer and longer
'Ooooooooh it's so hot!'
He does this everyday
working harder
pulling weed harder
this heat’s nothing
to him
And at the washing laundry line
its nice to see
how work gets done
in panties and see-through
blouses
It is even nicer when
you keep on hitting
Ahora Aun Mejor = naranja
while watching sky
too pretending to pull weed
as well
And what with Osborne
mixed with Mejor
and ice to top it off
in this heat?
Yes and how many years
must the white dove
Bob Dylan sail to fly to me?
And Leonard Cohen?
Marianne at the pool?
And how many neighbours
wives past tenses?
How many sweaty clothings?
When? What time?
(Wham I was write
back at literature
at the back of the garden
with the washing line in sight
I was inside the Wallpaper
Storytelling scrolling poetry)
Look you put flowers on the table
you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk and butter
there is water in your plate water on your bread water all over you you
don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you knock the bread
on the floor it mushed up the floor you get up you slip on the smooch
you hurt your back you don't like that you think why you had put flowers
on the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an
old idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man
they ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and
bent askew you put flowers on the table or something someone knocked it
over when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water in your
plate water on your bread water all over you you didn't like that you
didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor
it mushed up the floor you got up you slipped on the falling in love i
don't mean sex and such you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought
why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look
at you you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody
likes an old man everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that
like an old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table
or something someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter
or what all that water on your plate water on your bread water all over
you didn't liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked
the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor you got up you slipped on
dung you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had put
flowers on the table why you had made it nice why you had look at you
you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes
an old man'
'Why did you do that?'
'I wanted to make it nice'
'Why did you put flowers on the table then?'
Oh Omnes homines qui sese student
ceteris animalibus summa ope niti decet'
Why did you put flowers on the table
then? you think ahh what's with this flowers shit look you put flowers
on the table you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the
milk and butter there is water in your plate water on your bread water
all over you you don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore
you toss the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor you get up you
slip on the mush you hurt your back you don't like that you think why
you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look at
you you are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody
likes an old man they ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man
all crooked and bent akew you put flowers on the table or something someone
knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water
in your plate water on your bread water all over you you didn't liked
that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on
the floor it mushed up the floor you got up you slipped on the mush you
hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers
on the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an
old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man
everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man
all crooked and blent askew you put flowers on the table or something
someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter or what all
that water on your plate water on your bread water all over you didn't
liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread
on the floor it mushed up the floor you got up you slipped on Sister Sarah's
cape you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had put
flowers on the table why you had made it nice why you had look at you
you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes
an old man why you put flowers on the table then? you put flowers on the
table you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk and
butter there is water in your plate water on your bread water all over
you you don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you knock
why not use toss ok i use toss the bread on the floor it mushed up why
not use smooched up ok i use smooched up the floor you get up you slip
on the smooch you hurt your back you don't like that you think why you
had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look at you
you are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody
likes an old man they ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man
all crooked and bent askew why not use blended skew ok i use blended skew
you put flowers on the table or something someone tossed it over when
reaching for milk and butter or what all that water in your plate water
on your bread water all over you you didn't liked that you didn't want
to make it nice anymore you tossed the bread on the floor it smooched
up the floor you got up you slipped on the smooch you hurt your back you
didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table why
you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old man you don't
like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man everybody's gone ask
you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and blended
skew you put flowers on the table or something someone tossed it over
when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water on your plate
water on your bread water all over you didn't liked that you didn't want
to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed up
the floor you got up you slipped on the spilled beer you hurt your back
you didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table
why you had made it nice why you had look at you you are like an old man
you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man
'Why did you do that?'
'Why?'
30. with poetry it doesn't work
Never cheat on the 18th-hole
never
never switch one ball for another
never
not even when nobody's
watching
there's always
somebody watching
Somewhere there is always
somebody checking the course
of the course
the grass
the lawn
the fence
the washline
if not from write behind you
then from behind a shed
or a garden house
from a wall in his own garden
or from a neighbour's garden
or from Odadaharaon
or from under a bush
or from on some greens
miles ahead of you
'He sees you!'
Oh he sees you all write
he sees through you
even if he is not looking at you
he sees you
even if his head is in the sky
even if his head is not even
half way as high as your head
in the sky
'Oh never ever cheat!'
Not even a very tiny teeny
weeny bitty smally little bitty bit
it doesn't work
with poetry it doesn't work
Ever
31. the number 18
It was getting hotter
and hotter
in the sun
at the washing line
Naranya and Osborn
was flowing cooling
the spirits
And I was warming up
und upper
my back was on holiday
I have shed my cane
And then I
set off for Santa Christiana D'aro
this time the gum's gonna be
write up
and into number 18
oee I want to get it in
the one of ones
The bogus bogi one
number 18
Number 18's the best best one
the best best best one
of 'em all
Now or never
I thought and I started walking
slowly at first like a Lazarus
getting used to footwork
again
And you know
with Wallpaper poetry is like a woman
and the way she wants to get
into you
Those poem women
you know
'Nah nah no sexism! Watch it!'
Remember its a question
of want
and poetry
and to get in with the gum
But what happens?
oh nothing
you don't get it in
Its always the tide of the month
or its the time of the day
the hour
the second
the Planck scale
'You see…?'
Missing and classic split-
second miscalculations
that's what mess it up in poetry
in the big way
'Oh ooops I have miss it
oh oh I have missed it again
oh wrong universe… '
I stood up
stagger like a drunk
and fell down with a jerk
of pain
'I have missed it again!'
Oh and then
I degenerated write back
to the first page of D'Aro
to first letter
of this poem
I am Hallyboo the Blare
without the 'H'
'Oooeee aaghhh ahhhh!
my back my back!'
32. and then
My back was back
oh blood on the towel
oh no!
And then
Wassergymnastic nach dem Motto
Gesundheit und gute Laune
Wellen wie am Meer
Nichtschwimmerbecken mit Blick
Auf den Ruhebereich
Ach zo Volkswagen
Sprechen zie Deutsch?
'Oh you fool! You fetched flowers
for the table to make it good! You have started it all over again You
go back to the the first kiss And you try to make it write fool! Look!
You put flowers on the table you make it nice they knock it over when
reaching for the milk and butter there is water in your plate water on
your bread water all over you you don't like that you don't want to make
it nice anymore you knock the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor
you get up you slip on the mush you hurt your back you don't like that
you think why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice
why look at you you are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody likes
that nobody likes an old man they ask you hey why you walk like that like
an old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or
something someone tossed it over when reaching for milk and butter or
what all that water in your plate water on your bread water all over you
you didn't liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked
the bread on the floor it mush up the floor you got up you slipped on
the smooch you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you
had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look at you
you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes
an old man everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that like
an old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or
something someone sing it over weird weird when reaching for milk and
butter or what all that water on your plate water on your bread water
all over you didn't liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore
you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed up the floor you got up you
slipped on the King Solomon's Mines you hurt your back you didn't like
that you thought why you had put flowers on the table why you had made
it nice why you had look at you you are like an old man you don't like
that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man' she replied and then asked
'Why did you do that ?'
'I wanted to make it nice'
'Why you put flowers on the table then?'
33. someone else has taken it
But its not lost you see …
there
are more holes
more drafts
poems
You think you can get into them
but oh no
no boy no
boy
'Get down boy!'
(I am a poet you know?)
'Oh sure but there are many
wrong universes
and more weird Schröder cats
they all have many equals
as well
Oh there are many cats
in the boxes
and no chocolates
in the boxes
Leonard Cohen
Again
And dead or alive
at the same time
and there are the numbers
your cane's the wrong number
too I suppose
You need a 6 but you have a 4
and you don't have a putter
you putt with a 4
Oh look at worms in the holes
Wormholes Hawkins
again too
Wrong wrong wrong
wormholes
34. wrong wrong
They are wrong wrong
wrong wrong
And
someone has taken the gum
off the course
'Who'd done it?
Who took the gum ball?'
Einstein or his brother
the clever man
the Zany E = MC plus
something else
'Oh you think you can explain it?'
Poemtri's gravity has bulged
itself and deluded the greens
you've missed the hole
and that's that!
you couldn't get to the bottom
of the poem and that's that
too
and nobody's going to read this
But then I thought
there's ONE thing I can do
and this one I swear I WILL not miss
not ever again in life
Next time
man I am going to aim straight
for the fucking center
and get it in
and stand up and walk like a gofer
... very fast
A proud one
35. straight away a screw
Oh poempy doempy poe-
poem
This time straight away
a screw and a walk and a poem
and no nada
side-show de-
construction
in Wallpaper poetry
ever again
36. literature is
Its all a show of the New
Universe
its a slide side show
bummed up with literaturistic
and future so-called worlds
'Yes?
Better then turn your back
On me then'
'Oh please no no! Don't go!'
(I am the poet! Christiana D’Aro
I wrote it!)
'What a shame!'
37. see things differently
'Oh you terrible fool!'
again
Deconstruction?
what a laugh there where you are?
(You know? There where I am)
'Sure I better go home!'
Rail nail
Oh and my sad face
cries for something else
Cries for you
38. catch 22 of happiness
Happiness's so tiresome
I've tried it
I have tried unhappiness too
but that's bad too
I've tried the sun
my back didn't come write
Canus lupus lumbago
But tell me?
this thing … what's this thing called
a poem?
I have tried life
It's a waste of time and paper
I've tried hocus pocus
I've tried newspapers
This is what you get
from newspapers
Boven het Belfort hing
luidruchtige poëzie en knalde
voorts alles wat een vuurwerk
nog meer kan
Very silly stuff
Dutch stuff
and you notice it
especially when your back's
like my back
'See?'
And talking of seeing
you see things
when you have a back like mine
you see things differently
you see things differently than me
I am not like you
I see things differently too
and the difference between
me and you
is that I am more different
from you
than you are from me
Plus I am more me
than you are me
'Oh boy do I see things
differently from you'
I mean I've always seen things
differently … from anyone
anyway
so why worry?
'Are you sure?'
Why … well yes
look at the next page
and see for yourself
You put flowers on the table you
make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk and butter
there is water in your plate water on your bread water all over you you
don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you knock the bread
on the floor it mushed up the floor you get up you slip on the mush you
hurt your back you don't like that you think why you had put flowers on
the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old
idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man they
ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and bent
askew you put flowers on the table or something someone knocked it over
when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water in your plate
water on your bread water all over you you didn't liked that you didn't
want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed
up the floor you got up you slipped on the mush you hurt your back you
didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table why
you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old man you don't
like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man only young girls like
me everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that like an old
man all crooked and pissed askew you put flowers on the table or something
someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter or what all
that water on your plate water on your bread water all over you didn't
liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you tangled the bread
on the floor it dirtied up the floor you got up you slipped on the education
for mutual understanding you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought
why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why you
had look at you you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes
that nobody likes an old man
'Why did you do that ?'
'I wanted to make it nice'
'Why you put flowers on the table
then?'
'Do you see what I mean ... the difference?'
'No'
'Look I put flowers on the table
you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk and butter
there is water in your plate water on your bread water all over you you
don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you toss the bread
on the floor it mushed up the floor you get up you slip on the mush you
hurt your back you don't like that you think why you had put flowers on
the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old
idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man they
ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and bent
askew you put flowers on the table or something someone tossed it over
when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water in your plate
water on your bread water all over you you didn't liked that you didn't
want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed
up the floor you got up you slipped on the smooch you hurt your back you
didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table why
you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old man you don't
like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man everybody's gone ask
you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and bent
askew you put flowers on the table or something you slipped on the smooch
you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers
on the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an
old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man
everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man
all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or something you
slipped on the smooch you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought
why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look
at you you are like an old man you don't like that'
39. ahh
Ahh what's with this flowers' horseshoe?
what's with this suit you wear?
and always
again and again
The answer to this is = Zur Zu-ellen and it can go on and on like this:
Flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers
on the table flowers on the table flowers on the table flowers on the
table flowers'
'See?'
40. the nicest thing
After having looked at it
(at the previous pages of Christiana D’Aro)
having had a smile she
at her washing line
on neighbour's side
boldly keeps on wearing her panty and see-
through blouse
for all the world to see
Up high
'Seeing that you are alone
after I had left you
I will come back to you'
I shouted at her
from across the fence
41. neighbour's wife
Pin-up girls 're nice
very nice
but not as nice
as neighbour's wife
neighbour's wife
doesn't need panties
with see-through holes
indecent poses
'Nice ones'
Neighbour's wife
doesn't need anything at all
'Nothing!'
She's just the nicest thing
miles around
the only thing is however
watch out
when you watch out for her
at the party laundry line
neighbour too might be around
hiding looking
watching pretending working
in the garden
Anyway the higher your head
the nearer it is to the sky
and the clearer the sky
the closer you can see
that pin-up poems're
no match
for the poem of a woman
next door
Sic
neighbour's poem
42. the tripe you write
Watching those gum hitting
golfers from my garden I saw
how they walk up
and down
noses in the ground
seeking gum
balls
hiding in the shrubs
'No sky!'
I should have been
in there
I can show the some sky
But oh
my canus lupus lumbago back
oh all those flowers on the table
43. another group of poets
Another group of poetry hitters
passed by
poets posing with their women
Look at their women
oh, look at them
their poems follow 'em
Look at their poems
their're clad in black
and covered with shadors
Yihdies from rustered fly-
overs
'Nice aren't they?
unlike the tripe you write, Sir!'
Oh and look at their tiny feet
in their tiny wheeny sandals!
look at the red
at the tips of their toes
Its blood!
oh, look at the red roses
on their toes
44. a flower for you
Delilah
here's a flower for you
Samson said
A flower from me
Argo Spier
a flower for you
Let us … hey why don't we
meet
one another
in a Paris Paris Paris?
Si Paris a Paris
posey posey placey Paris
Me and you
45. underneath the veils
Excellent guessing game
those cladded poems they
are beautiful women
in d'em black parcels
you can't see a thing
what's been written underneath
their veils togas dresses
patyhoses and see-through
blouses … on their legs
on their tighs
'Oh…!'
Oh look at those poempy
oempy women
oh look at their tender feet
wriggling so gracefully
they're showing off
their smally smally toey toes
'Oh I like that!'
I like that kind
of poetry
I like their kind of gore
on in this Wallpaper House of Holiday Fun
its your inverted world
not mine
And besides
only good poets
can afford to walk along side
poems as good as d'em
ladies
55. nicy poemey omeys
Oh, SoHo enticingly nice
'Sexist!'
Mmmmm titties and veils
'Sexist!'
Mmmmm
and what would you say
when I say write
write write write
what you can
Do with yourself?
And man
The Africans' got good
solid poetry too
big black ones
they're black and you don't
see a thing or two
too
And that's intriguing
and hot
in the sun at the equador
'Dark stuff!'
Their poems however
they have nothings on's
but you are on, are you not?
And of their poems
you see of d'em
Porkey and Bessie
what you see of d'em
Day time night
time
night time's all the time
you get for the dreaming
dreaming day dreaming
shiny stuff
and you rrrrr own poetry
Look you put flowers on the table
you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk and butter
there is water in your plate water on your bread water all over you you
don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you knock the bread
on the floor it mushed up the floor you get up you slip on the mush you
hurt your back you don't like that you think why you had put flowers on
the table why you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old
idiot you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man they
ask you hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and bent
askew you put flowers on the table or something someone knocked it over
when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water in your plate
water on your bread water all over you you didn't liked that you didn't
want to make it nice anymore you knocked the bread on the floor it mushed
up the floor you got up you slipped on the mush you hurt your back you
didn't like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table why
you had made it nice why look at you you are like an old man you don't
like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man everybody's gone ask
you hey hey why you walk like that like an old man all crooked and bent
askew you put flowers on the table or something someone knocked it over
when reaching for milk and butter or what all that water on your plate
water on your bread water all over you didn't liked that you didn't want
to make it nice anymore you mushed the bread on the floor it mushed up
the floor you got up you slipped on the mush you hurt your back you didn't
like that you thought why you had put flowers on the table why you had
made it nice why you had look at you you are like an old man you don't
like that nobody likes that nobody likes an old man '
'Why did you do that ?
'I wanted to make it nice'
'Why did you put flowers on the table then?'
Why did you put flowers on the table then?'
Why did you put flowers on the table then?'
'You think ahh … noooooooooooooo!'
56. crawling like a crab
Walking
crawling like a crab
cane in one hand
other hand in left pocket
playing with nicked golf gum balls
from under a shrub
A punk came up to me
walked past me
on his plastic jacket was written
sod work
That's nice
I thoughtI like that
he's a poet too
'Hey poet
how's it doing?'
He looked at me
at my cane and my creamy
coloured suit and holiday
Suave
'Sod off
Hippy' he said
57. are they going to come
My most beautiful poem
asked me
(all my poems are most beautiful)
'… Those child thieves
are they going to come and get me now?'
Why?
why did you ask that?
'Your back is broken
you can't fend 'em off anymore!'
Oh poem!
oh poem!
I see what you mean
you oh you!
never forget I am an old
old joung poet
I have my contingency plans
too
And I said nothing more
I just stood up
went crooked out of the door
got crooked into the car
drove crooked to Santa Filieu
went crawled crooked into a shop
bought a crooked knife with two crooked
blades
and I go went gone croocked
back to my poem
Look
when they come take my stick
I open this knife
and with this blade
I cut off their left balls
as true as beresjiet
I will do that
and with this one
I cut off their right balls
depending from which side
they come
She looked at me
with eyes wide assaucers
and I knew that what I had said
was a very right thing France
to do Espàna
and also Belgium
that that was a very wrong thing
to do Germany
'What can you do?
Luxembourg?'
I knew the Netherlands
and she knew
oh and I knew at the same time
she knew
I would never do a thing like that
Italy Portugal
the bridge over troubled waters
And both of us just put the knife
away Royaume Unie
[4's still missing]
And when then we had put
the knife away we went for a swim
everywhere!
all over the United States of Europe
all over the Northern Hemisphere
all over the Globe
all over God's Earth
'Oh thief
never never come for my poem!
never please!
not for her!'
58. the chosen people's club
Jewish poems are nice
they're Gurd Schwine Stew
I'd like to write some
some real real ones
some Cohen real real ones
Even the American Oily Branch
ones are ok for that matter
oh the Chosen People's Club ones
they would do just fine
As yes would do
the uniformed ones
the rifled ones
the ones at the Wall Berlin
with their heads bobbing
bobbing
backwards and forwards
The Torahs-in-the-upper-left-pockets
ones
and so on
I mean when you think
about it
I mean when walking
in those deserts of the diaspora
and all
and Moses
and all
and him walking
all alone with all those filly
young Jewishy poems
write there in the middle
of the desert
there with him
Those filly young ones with
their curly hair
and mouths and him
absolutely alone in there
with them
Oh and all that
and the blistering soft sand dunes
and their hair and mouths
long hair
short
blond black ash shit
it doesn't matter
That's for me
poetry like such
But really
I think I must stop this poem
write here and now
its becoming incipient
like baldness
thin like lukewarm piss
evaporating from
those very same deserts
lovely sandles tread on
59. protestant poems
Protestant poems aren't nice
I know I write them
I am a protestant
and you?
A W.A.S.P. too you? Whitey
Anglo Saxon Protestant
don't read Protestant poem
Look at my poems
they're sec stuff
and they're Wallpaper
but just look at them
my poems … you haven't done
it so far have you?
Point is
protestants're too serious
about women
and they think they're
the real poets
of the future … but really
[If you look closer] what they write
is garb
plain ordinary garb
punch line stuff
tip off stuff
such stuff
And they're sexist stuff
poetry's sexistic
And protestants
they'll do anything to gain
attention
'See what I mean?'
Agogically they work
on the same computer
day in and night out
till the morning
and again and again
they try to score
a hole
at the course of literature
and again and again
they knock
down a statue
or two
a vase
for that matter too
or something else
And they hammer on
the same same point over
and again again
making sure
all the time
you get the message
And they are jealous
they are jealous about other people's poems
at the washing lione
and they don't like
it when some other golfer
hits the gum a bit further
than they do it
And they do nasty things
when that happens
Let me show you
Wellington watch this one!
Pearl of Paarl be my witness!
There was an innocent man
With a green jumper
Like a woman's jersey
He
That man flashed out
Poems and
Paintings
And so on
Of
Hacked off hands
Of blacks
And all
Just because
Some white farmers
Didn't want to listen
And all that … and that
In the middle of Amsterdam
'What will the people say?'
I mean?
it's bad for the name
the way protestants
are bad poets
but I've warned you about this
it's bad at 4.08 AM in the morning
it's bad as flowers
on tables
'Please…! No!'
Don't read protestant poems
my poems
stay away from my poems
stay away from all of my poems!
they have mouths and long hair
blond black ash shit it doesn't matter
but stay away
My poems are my poems
not yours
Oh canus lupus lumbago
oh flowers on the table
'Run!'
60. you knock the bread
Look you put flowers on the table
you make it nice they knock it over when reaching for the milk and butter
there is water in your plate water on your bread water all over you you
don't like that you don't want to make it nice anymore you knock the bread
on the floor everybody is going to read this they'll spent hours and hours
to try and find some meaning in wallpaper i like that because this is
exactly the same thing what i am trying to find it mush up the floor you
get up you slip on the smooch you hurt your back you don't like that you
think why you had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why
look at you you are like an old idiot you don't like that nobody likes
that nobody likes an old man they ask you hey why you walk like that like
an old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or
something someone tossed it over when reaching for milk and butter or
what all that water in your plate water on your bread water all over you
you didn't liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knocked
the bread on the floor it mush up the floor you got up you slipped on
the smooch you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you
had put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why look at you
you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody likes
an old man everybody's gone ask you hey hey why you walk like that like
an old man all crooked and bent askew you put flowers on the table or
something someone knocked it over when reaching for milk and butter or
what all that water on your plate water on your bread water all over you
didn't liked that you didn't want to make it nice anymore you knock the
bread on the floor it mush up the floor you got up you slipped on the
smooch you hurt your back you didn't like that you thought why you had
put flowers on the table why you had made it nice why you had look at
you you are like an old man you don't like that nobody likes that nobody
likes an old man '
'Why did you do that?'
'I wanted to make it nice'
'Why you put flowers on the table
then? Why you put flowers on the table then? Why you put flowers on the
table then? Why you put flowers on the table then Why you put flowers
on the table then? Why you put flowers on the table then? why you put
flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table then why you
put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
why you put flowers on the table then? why you put flowers on the table
then
61. eluardian shifts
And surrealist poems too
are shit poiems
I don't like surrealist poetry
surrealist poems are that
copied Eluardian shifts
Those things … those poems
which jump up from the minds
of small poets
those pretending poems
pretending falling from the sky
falling down into chimneys
Christmas
those things
those ones man you find
them all over the place
Amsterdam
Paris
off-shore
islands
those Barbados types
Really surrealist poems
those painting poems
only waste people's time
and patients
I don't like 'em
They're horseshoes
they're dead people's stuff
they were written in the rain
they start rotting
the minutiae you read 'em
'Don't read 'em!'
62. café Bagdad Café
At the club
the gum hitters are sitting
sipping sitting bull's eye hitting
Osborn and Naranya with ice
and tea
'Nice!'
I walked past them
with my stick in my hand
they looked at my stick
and turned away their faces
shameless pretending looking
for stuff in the sky
or under their tables
Nobody looks talks to me
never … you see?
'Ok what shall I do?'
I went somewhere else
Café Bagdad Café
old people's café
resort
Old people all my age
tables for 4
one to a table
'Nice!
I like it in here'
'Three Conjacs unde tres
Café Negro's garzon siewoeplê'
The garçon looked
at the empty chairs
surrounding me
'Its Ok
just bring it
my friends will come later
eh … mind my stick'
Belgian Queen = Spanish Queen
Que hora es? como se llama usted?
Muchas Gracias De nada ?
Puedo usar el teléfono? Como està usted?
nice Spain … oh you
Oh I like it
in big Casino Men's Club Càfe
oh the people are so nice
in big Casino Men's Club Càf'
63. a point
And afterwards when I
got home to pantyhose
and see-through blouse
at the washing line
the wife said
'You'd been drinking again!'
'Noooooooooooooooo !' I said
'Look I walk straight
and my back's cured!
Noooooooooooooooo 's I don't drink!
Noooooooooooooooo 's not my fault!
ssss the eh stupid garçon's
ssee he puts stuff in cafés
ssssonnest sssss not my fault
let me help you at the line'
Anyway
and you think it again
how shall I end this poem
and D'Aro
and what's the point?
etc.
another protestant boozed up
poem
'Just put
a point write here'
.
64. the flow of Wallpaper
Two of my other most
beautiful poems conspired and stole
my poetry diary
(the long old one
the one in which I have written this
the brown one
matching the colour
of three years ago's fashion)
(All my poems are most beautiful)
Both of them are basketball fans
Chicago Bulls fans
and Phoenix Suns fans
'As long as it's basketball dad
its ok'
'No its not ok!'
How can poems influence
the flow of Wallpaper?
the flow of Holiday Santa Christina d'Aro?
'Do you know what they did?'
They wrote their fan's names in
it!
imagine?
oh that's a very serious
misdeameanor
oh it's a thing not done
'Not in my dairy!'
It's a very very serious mischief
its wild growth
its like sowing weed seed in the garden
of another man
Head high in the sky
Weed seed from my sky
A thing like that
can have serious consequences
on the history of literature
I mean
it can attract the attention
from neighbours all around
from all poets
neighbours all have now an excuse
to come over and help you
pull weed from your diary
and that gives them the excuse
to look closely at the quality
of the laundry line
of aspects of Wallpaper
all over
Panties and see through
blouses
etc.
It give them the opportunity
to even scale some of your drafts
and/or give you advice on your stuff
etc.
And from that hectic busying
working
clothes get dirty!
your wife's got to do more
washing and hanging up
at the line
Panties and see through
Blouses
'Ahhh non
I don't take that!'
65. now for all that weed
The wind might take the seed
blow it to some other neighbour's
garden
he might start working hard
too
his head wil start rolling
into the sky too
he too
will notice the washing line
and the dirty washed
up panties and see through
blouses
And his wife too
will have more washing to do
'Ooooooooh it's so hot!'
And the biggest danger of all
you could get involved
'What about your aching back?'
'It aches more when there's work
to be done
... only'
Oh this whole bussiness of
Chicago Bulls fans
and Phoenix Suns fans
in my diary
is a painful incident
Imagine
etc.
I mean who's the poet in here?
no certainly I cannot allow that!
66. the day was long
The day was long
heat exposure got out
of hand
and over at the neighbour's
there was much sun too
just too much
sun too
Then the sun downed
Itself with Campari like a smart lady
A Bloody Mary
'Nice'
The kids went to bed
and sundowners rose ploink
and pink yellow
Osborn and Naranya
and the ice was ice cold ice
the patio was free
your back was ok
so was your wife's
she had panty and see-through
blouse on
It was a nice evening
everyone was retireing from zealous
working in gardens and the washing line
was empty and streched
Even the golfers
had gone home to the bar
the evening was as said
nice
The sky was above
and when you look across the golf
course you could see the 18 holes
chatting tucking in happily too
like hens returning
from a last minute feeding run
one by one
they got up onto their spots
and their acts together
and they laid there homespunly
even here and there a little ball roll
from under a shrub
and take a breath
The golfers in the bar started
sitting-sipping-cheating louder
with their dockets
their gum balls in their pockets
were relieved
laying snuggly close together
Peace at last had come to
Santa Christina Golf Club Page 143
and all of the best had come
to you
and then your wife asked me
'How're your poems coming on?'
That did it!
I felt good
the boat was in on time
I proudly announced
So was the Osborne
and the Naranya
both already half-
half
I stood up
streching myself like a peacock
and asking your/my wife
my/your lovely-sweety-naughty
flaming wify
'Choriso pig sausage?
you want some green tomatoes?'
'Yes' the Muse said 'Go pick it
up!'
You go fetch the Choriso
pig sausage
and the tomatoes
and onions
(And your kids were in bed
as said)
Now at this point this Wallpaper
scrol happily
and you can expect the story
to develope
but of course there's always
the thought
of how really you were doing
with D'Aro
etc.
And you move your bare foot
and it touches your wife's bare one
slightly mind you
and by accident
and it stayed there
lingering resting
on her bare one
slightly
see?
(There was no compulsion nor repitition)
'It's been a nice day no?
pity about all that washing…'
'I can't let the kids dirty
can I?'
'No of course not you cannot
deary'
'… Oh there's still a lot
of washing to be done tomorrow
it's so hot in this place…'
(She continues)
'Don't you think it's hot?'
'Yes but say
let's cut this half-half Ossyborn
quick and then go
for an early nighty night!'
You took the initiative
you stood up
slowly like a pillar
your massive legs took the strain
at first
Osborn and Naranya have given
you the courage
you thought oh please
in
but then your legs started
to tremble
and you hear the earthquake coming
forcing your two studs of chained legs
to quiver too
Then it was there
the earth started to move
then the floor slided
timber gave way
Samson was pushing
Delilah was watching
with expectation
and the Muse on the roof
was laughing and then
the house and balcony caved in
rubble fell on your head
and under the weight of it
you crumbled with it
down to the floor
you tried to grab the leaning
of a chair
the chair fucked over
you ran for the couch
you didn't make it
and then you fucked over
'Aaaah oeeeh oeeeeh
my back my back!
aaah aaah oh anandamite!
aaah oh loveliest woman
in the world…'
You cannot reach her…!
'My stick … my stick!'
wrong universe!
wrong hole
wrong Hawkinas cum Penrose
oh woman … hold me!'
'Pick up yourself!'
the Muse mused
and growl like a spitefull bitch
but then she came over
and tenderly whisper
into your ear
'Oh poor poor poet'
And compassion steamed
from her eyes
and she upped you
and she helped you to your corner
on the couch in the corner
'Down boy … down!'
67. hanging out washing
Boy is watching girl
girl's 13 boy's 13 too
neighbours
Everybody needs good neighbours
Boy has taken to helping
his Mommy at the washing line
Girl too has taken helping
out her Daddy pulling weed
in the garden
And the skies were blue
in Santa Christina D'Aro
and there was a lot of washing
and weeding to be done
neat places and clothes
need neat neighbours
And
Oh gardening Mrs Gartner
your poet's poem's a man's
working joy!
Comment allez-vous?
Quel est votre nom?
Vous … unh a Paris vient?
Françoise Sic was her name
boy's name was his own
and of course sic 2
she viented from Paris
'But my Mommy's from Bordeaux'
And like Mommy
she wore small red pointed high
heeled shoes
a small nice silken see-through
blouse and a small … (Cut! Cut!)
She was an exact copy
of you etc.
but this folks … is all for today!
next episode's for tomorrow
night' soap
'Luke thin man … thin!'
I can explain it
however
it has something to do with
how shall I put it?
it has something to do
with the linking of poems' stuff
this piece you are now reading
is a hinge
its only a theme
in a Wallpaper that need themes
etc.
its only words that happen
and then it all stop
and all that is left
are the traces left on the Wall
of course
Oh it all has to do with the filling
of this abcdebeateannxlovesxmexyoufghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz line
and in fact that's the easy part
of being a good poet
the hard part is another stroy
'It's on the edge though … thin man thin!'
68. something in the garden
Last day of Espàna the Great!
Let's go for a last large
swim in big pool big De Waal Hotel'
who helps the Old Man?
you take him!
help him with his cane
and you carry his poems
watch out … they're heavy
At the pool there was water in it
'Fall in fall out!'
Oh good good solid warm
poetry
oh water in the basin
Holy Water in the baptisimal fond
keep your head high
wallow
tickle with your feet
'Wait neighbour's wife's coming
Ooooooooh it's so hot!'
69. say goodbye
Neighbour's garden
mrs Bordeauxy … its good good
manners to say goodbye goodbye
On the way out
of the nut of the pool
young froggy Françine
from Paris viented too
and go straight for the boy
'What do I do?
what do I do Dad?
hide your cane!
hide your cane!
pretend you are not my Dad
she'll see me…'
What do you mean
she'll see you?
you should want her
to see you
rush back
go get … talk to her
let her do the talking!
say I am your Grand Dad'
oh the water's the garden
my son
the water's the trap
one's got to beat
go my son
go!
this IS the making of a poet
of you … oh YOU poet!
walk high with your head
high into the sky
cane or no cane
just walk
she came for you
oh walk on that stupid
swimming pool even if you have to
Superstar
walk on water
prove to her that you can do it
devil's dagger look at her
see-through blouse
and her [Cut again! Cut again!]
She's the muse in person
oh father and son
and holy holiday poems
That very same minutae
I said that
I got so excited
that I didn't notice
the hole
in the oval
step
as it lead down
And there runs Mary
I stepped into the hole
swirf Smurf
I tumble
my torso went this way
my head and legs the other way
and in mid-air I hover
a trapeeze artist
stalled in nothingness
'Thin man ... thin!'
And as I came down
with my elbow
on some steps below
I rolled over and down
several more
and crash into the dustbin
face first
'Oooeee aaghhh ahhhh
My back! My back!'
I screamed out loud
And then the mirical
happened
the unforseen luck
of circumstances
that what had popped in
into my back
in the beginning
of Santa Christiana D'Aro
that something had now
popped out!
it had popped out
like an arrow
from a Cupid's bow
Oh sacramental holy water
oh blue sunny sky!
oh D'Aro pool water … you are
so beautiful son of mine!
poet!
oh virgin spirit Françoise
beautiful Muse … I am cured!
I can walk again!
Some golfers at the bar
looked up
cheerde and waved
And the neighbours came
over
'I am cured!
I am cured!
I can carry my own poems
again!
oh my back's back!'
Denis Denis I love you Blondy
Francine Frenchy Françoise
Son of mine
I love you all…!
And I laughed
and laughed
and there was my neighbour's wife
[again] coming up the slope
of the street
in her see-through blouse
to meet me
on Tom Jones'
Green grasses of home
'Hurray for sexy see-through
blouses!'
And behind her
was the neighbour himself
in person too
They were coming
to say goodbye
and we all laughed
and smiled
'I can carry my poems!'
I boasted
And as I stood next to
the city council's flower bed at the side
entrance to the hotel
I took my stick and fuqua
it away
so hard
and far across it
it landed inside the next flower bed
and broke say 18 angelic
flowers' necks
I was a boy in love with his muse
I jumped up and down
ran accross the lawn
write up to the washing line
and back
again
I jumped over
a nicked 5 Star pool
deckchair disgarded
on the sidewalk
And as I jumped
my left foot got stuck
on the arm rest
and I tripped over
fell into the stone wall
behind the driveway
Oooeee aaghhh ahhhh
70. Hullabaloo the Blare the II
'Do write
this poem for me
you Hullabaloo the Blare A poem
in which I am Hullabaloo
the Blare your Queen Her Majesty
Hullabaloo the Blare and you
I the King His Highness
Hullabaloo the Blare'
71. message to my mamma
The neighbour's wife
was soft and tender
'Poor poor poet…'
She helped me up
'Oh you terrible wonderful fool!'
My kneecap was broken
and my arm disjointed
as was my left ankle
'I want to go home
Santa Christiana D'Aro is done'
I said to her
She put into the ambulance
that took me to the airport
but on the plane
and
in higher spheres
I was getting over the pain
And flying higher
and higher the closer
I got to home
And I grew happier
and happier
And when we landed
I was smiling as if I were
an Alva with a personal message
hidden in his upper right pocket
the completed draft of holy water
Santa Christiana D'Aro
holiday poem Wallpaper
It was a message from Her Highness
The Queen of Espàna Catharina
Francina herself
to His Highness the King
Hullabaloo the Blare
sampel four
[ Sampel Four - Footnotes
The Masked Man of Santa Margarita and the poets of Graaff Reinet]
In Sample Four Argo Spier takes
Wallpaper Poetry (the endless generation of words, images, themes and
stories) to its limits by incorporat-ing a series of so-called Computer
poems into the story he is telling. He uses a simple plot, a group of
four poets get to-gether in a pub in a small South African Town, the Karoo
town of Graaf Reinette, to philosophise on the meta-physical aspects of
poetry and the art of writing tout court. The Computer poems are printouts
of wini.ini files from his own computer and, in the way they are presented
in the plot structure of the anthology, they are beautiful examples of
the dynamic characteris-tics of Wallpaper Poetry.
‘Everywherelevelprojectionalignmentreportcorrectionanalysisfeedbacklimithistorygraphresultsskip
the restlook out the window see the rain’
The author uses common and ordinary
words and sentences, words already used and abused, and re-combines them
to form verses and icons of language. The message is ... in the magical
mind of the poet things happen ... in the pub in Graaf Reinette poetry
is born ...
In the fol-lowing verses the daring drive and the author's use of so called
ordinary language recombined, set the tone of much that is to follow.
‘it rains ... it rains so much
you won't believe itit's Death creeping up on you it seeps ...it walks
... it stands up straight it watches you’
Argo Spier, a pupil of the South
African poet, N.P. van Wyk-Louw, claims to be the Master of recombination
or, put more forcefully, the Master of Wallpa-per. He collects and re-combines
parole, creating a sort of 'meta' language, poetry ... the scrolling kind.
His poems are pictures brought to-gether in a cata-logue. Fact, he is
selling Wallpaper and Sample Four displays the various designs he is offering.
In his own words:
‘see I am scrolling Wallpaper
as fast as I can’
The terms Wallpaper poetry and Ne-cro
Poetica (the ghastly ritual of writing poetry, Wallpaper poetry, Argo
Spier kind) were in-vented by the author in the Workshop MBM Word in 1993/1994.
Sample Four is the fourth anthology dealing with these concepts and in
practically all of the poems in Sample Four traces of the cornerstones
and criteria of and for wallpaper could be found: Coinci-dence and historicy.
Every-thing that is brought to life happened in time and/or refers to
existing litera-ture, utter-ances, names of places or existing people,
etc. When the author mentions 7 plants in a desert, it refers to the 7
plants he saw at Mitzpe Ramon in the Negef desert in Israël. If he
refers to numbers of cars, jeeps, these num-bers exist and, when traced,
one will find the particular cars and they will be Japanese Land Ranger
Jeeps and their numbers will be ex-actly the same as mentioned in the
poem.
‘the people of Cannesare all
old they all wear wigs bleached fashionfrom Main Street Hades they go
up and down foreshore Boulevard Angliain their Toyota Land Ranger Jeeps
displaying numbers like 9392XA06 and 5238XL06they buy cigarettes and boozeat
cheap tobacconists sicand they look at the boats trying to flee the encroaching
Day of Armaged don’t hey don't get away ... those who did drowned
...the XTL la Salis sank ... didn't she? Otto Joseph Matelot on his way
to China drowned ... didn't he?’
Apart from the ambiguity that some-times
arises in the actual rela-tionship between ritual recombination and storytelling
Wallpaper Sample Four is a well-structured anthology. The author uses
a Jungian dream mandala as model. A tetrakis, Greek for the concept 4,
forms the four corners. of this mandala. In the anthology four geographical
regions are described : the Great Karoo, South Africa, the Negef, a desert
in Israel, the Côte d'Azur, France and in Flanders, Bel-gium. Towns
in these regions, incidents that occurred, the character traits of people
and small talk are en-capsulated in this superstructure. The author summons
up the flow of his own life, a weird drea-m, and resur-rects, as in a
drama, the various acts of his own personal history, and the reader is
drawn into this dream real-ity. The author constantly flirts with the
reader, appealing, begging him to come into the dream.
‘In the mist hanging over the
seayou can see a man walking on waterthat man is me ... see be my numenozum
I'll be yours weird dream nice tetrakis in the water hole Ben GP Jo Moze
and me ... do you hear me? do you dare come beat the water with me? do
you dare? walk on water ... walk? yes I dare for poems’
The journey through the four regions
mentioned, however, transcends the author's personal in-volvement. The
poems are part of a Necro-Poetic seance the author is preparing. What
the reader sees is Wallpaper but what he gets is Necro Poetica and dealings
with the spirits, words and utterances of those who are long dead.
The use of the Biblical symbols
of death, rain and wa-ter, and the call to the reader to walk on water,
a New Tes-tament reference, underlines this.
The Otto Matelot poems are perfect
ex-amples of what is really at stake in Sample Four. Otto Matelot left
Cannes 1886 on a sailing trip to China and never returned. The author
brings him back in time not so much with the story he is telling about
the ship-wreck in which Otto died, but by using words used by Otto's loved
ones who were left be-hind. He does this by copying ex voto texts from
the walls of the chapel at the lighthouse on Cape de la Garoupe and incorporating
them into the verses. One can trace the author's steps.
’The Prince with the Iron Mask
fled to Sainte Marguerite ... didn't he? the Spirits are crowding the
Chapel next to the Watch Tower on Cape de la Garoupe Ex-voto Puget Re-A.N.D.
de la garde pour une guérison 1956the people of Cannes are all
old and pastand afraid and morgified and citing backward masking mes-sages
...Otto Joseph Matelot a bord du Lutin a fait partie de l'éxpèdition
de la Chine du Tonkin et de l'Annam 1886’
The author is constantly trying
to increase the scale of the mandala. He surges into myths, enters the
myth of the Masked Man of Sainte Marguerite, giving his three friends
the names of characters used in Plato's writing, echoing the pseudo-so-phistic
dialogue the four poets are engaged in in Graaf Reinette's pub. Absurd
dia-logue and hilarious art-historical references call the tune, all the
time, while wallpaper is scrolling and Necro Poetica taking place.
‘next day ... static life they
gathered on the beach of Miramar (they knew about the nightly raid) Phaedo
Phaerus Timaeus and the Masked Knight of Sainte Marguerites on a rock
feet in the water don't be metaphysically naïve the soul belongs
to the world of fluid forms that's why it rains so much it's easier to
fight that way when all is wet the earth dogged 're you sure? absolutely
poems are written that way the Demiurge crafted the world that way poems
need water that way to spring to life not true! poems cannot spring to
life they grow and etc.'d you think the Muse is alive? I mean exists?
whispering poems when you're dry from watching sky my oh my why do you
ask? you askI don't know it's just that the cutting edge is so thin an'
if you open up the door hell anybody can come inghosts and so and what
do you do when the wind blows? when the Mistral comes in from across the
koppies? I mean you are a ghost aren't you? you're the one asking questions
like 'd you think the Muse is alive? I mean exists? whispering poems when
you're drywhen your neck's stiff from watching skyI don't know ask Timaeus
he writes poetry with loops such as 'd you think the Muse is alive? I
mean exists? whispering poems when you're dry when your neck's stiff from
watching sky etc.’
Unlike the finite wini.ini files
Wall-paper poetry can keep on scrolling for ever by means of loop verses.
What is impor-tant is the pictures the reader sees on his com-puter screen!.
Nothing else matters. What matters is the Soul of Poetry, words, just
the words, and as far as that goes, Argo Spier's work is a con-stant abjur-ing
drive into that soul.
The spiritualism aimed at is not
really the bringing to life of ghosts, but the bringing- to life of language
itself. It is the Voo-dooism of utter-ances. His work is source-seeking
and iconogra-phic and with Sample Four he walks the tightrope be-tween
poe-m and non poem, the tight rope be-tween crea-tive implementa-tion
of syntactic variation and copy writing. His work even borders on plagiarism,
if the copying of car numbers, ex votos, the running and rewriting of
wini.ini files can be consid-ered as such.
But that doesn't bother him, he
is ...
‘telling stories with poems
high quality mummification ... in Jerichoat the Dead Sea sidebut that's
good poems keep to themselves that wayand you're safe’
Sample Four was com-pleted and published
digitally in May 1994 and is a compilation of 180 po-ems. ARGO SPIER has
written several anthologies, four of which explore Necro Poetica and Wallpaper.
The term Necro Poetica was developed in the Workshop MBM Word in 1993/1994,
during the authors chairmanship of the work group. - LWCFSD
1. through the layers of stof
'All my life I've watched little
perde bushes suffer
All my life I've watched dirt and stof coming in
From across Gamka's kloof
All my life I saw it blowing in
Write from across the Karoo koppies'
Ben Swanepoel said
2. falling down
Falling out stof
Loose sand
Stof
Whirlwinds
Hurricanes
More sand
Dirt
And more stof
'I've watched how places got sedimented
up
How they grew higher
Becoming mountains of stof
Langeberg chains
Worcester Tell es-Sultans
I saw the changes that occured in the long roots
Of the perde bushes
How they dug deeper
Into the layers of stof
How they made boroughs And tunnels
Literally … how new génres
came
Into being etc.'
He drawdled on
And on
And as he turned facing the empty chairs
Around him in the Waterhole
Of Graaff Reinet
There were dust all over
The furniture
It was late afternoon and the wind blew
At a pace
And sand and stof sifted in
From under the closed door
In front of him was an empty beer glass
It stood on the dusry table
Wasted and alone
Then he bent down
Took off his veldskoene
Rolled up his pants knee high
And entered the Great Orange River
Of scrolling flowing Wallpaper poetry
Watching and seeing all the stof
blowing in
I understood so well why he did that
Why he had entered the Holy Water
Of the Ars Poetica
3. four cards
Stories are scacramentel sampels
Of daring meddle with existing literature
Of Mantissa ...
Oh let me tell you about it
The four cards … and how
Poetry is a bastard
Going for the soul
Your soul
On three of the cards
Pieces of poems were written
Verses with a croocked hand
But the last card … Your card
What's on it?
Stories are scacramentel seances
Of daring Necro Poetica and existing literature
Of Mantissa ... and life
Oh let me tell you about it
4. 4 towns
Aiges mortes
Karkemis
Cannes
And Jericho
5. Aiges Mortes
Which would you say is the best
place
Under the sky? Segeret or Aiges Mortes?
Both 're in the USA of Europe … France
Both 're nice … but which the best?
Sacharomyces cereviseae
Or Bacillus stearothermophilus?
Segeret sounds like cigarettes
'n Smoking's bad for your health
Suchy Zuchi?
Aiges Mortes sounds ok … sounds
Like death
But when in rains
There's water all over the place
And water's ok you see … when
You have lived all your life in stof
And in dirt
In loose sand etc
But yes I too think
Aiges Mortes the best
Oh don't go live there
It sure is Death Valley too
Taking it
From the sound of it's name
6 then the rain came
While Ben was working
On different traditions
Of poetry
It started to rain
That's when he started
To talk about rain … again
And about the Great Orange River
Of flowing scrolling New Poetry
Wallpaper and Poetry Ex Nihilo
7. different traditions
'Originally different traditions
Of rain poems existed
But that was before the great flux…'
He said and wrote the poem
Down
This one you are reading now
But what he didn't seemed to realise
Was that poetry really work
This way
There must be a writer and you
Must be the reader
I must be the writerNot he
Yet he continued saying
'All kinds of poetry got washed thoroughly
Then
And a sort of syncretismal genré … you know
Came into being
And after that all poets
Started to write the same sort
Of wet prissy poems
The same sort of grey poems
Harmonizing words with the sound
Water makes
The sound water makes when coming
Down on people minding
Their own businesses'
And as he talked he rearranged
His head under the plastic bag he was wearing
It and was dripping with water
'I thought I was supposed to
Write Sample Four' I said to him
'Man it doesn't matter who writes
What
Or whether it is a poem or not!
Let's just get somewhere
Somewhere else
Where we are out of this stand up rain
Look at this soggy piss of a water
Coming down on us
Its flux wheather can't you see?'
8. off roads
Then he started fabricating
A plot and created Jo Moze
'The Levites' he said Jo Moze said
'...They made up a lot of sermons
A lot of artistic Jo Moze stories
Wandering in wildernesses and on plains
And etc and having much time
On their hands
They just tread stof off the roads
Outside Mitzpe Ramon
Those dry dry roads outside Mitzpe Ramon
Down Negef way
The skies were clear'
No never rain
It never came … never came
And he sighed and looked
Through the window at the whirling stof
In the street
As it was blowing
In
From across the Karoo koppies
'Come on man let's get out of here
Let's go somewhere else
Somewhere where one can think
Straight'
9. talk of open skies
'Its raining' Jo Moze said
Speaking to Ben using Ben's words
'It's been raining for 4 days and
3 night days
Now
I think I am going up the moony mountain
Side
I don't care for rain
Rain's not gone go stop me'
And then an absurd thing happened
While he was formulating the pointe
Talking about the need of water
For wandering people
A diasporic group of Jews entered the town
And they passed by write in front of the Waterhole
As if they were summond as a cast
They were covered with dust
And their clothes were worn and torn
And haggard
And they recited in a chorus
'Oh what's wrong with us?
Oh what's wrong with us?
Why?
Wherever we go water splits from us?'
'Don't mind them' Jo Moze said
And continued where he had left off
'I don't care for water
Same's Ben here
But sure thing
I'm going up this Sinaï side
Its Monday isn't it?
I want to see what's up there by midnight
Give me my coat'
He took his coat
And with his eyes wide and vague
Like a prophet's he banged through
The swingdoors of the Waterhole
Like a huge block of stone
'Oh it's raining irresolute
Ambivalence
And absolute irrelevances'
And true as stof
It was raining all over the desert
Over Namakwa Leeugamka and all
The other northwestern places
Of the Great Karoo arround
The town of Graaff Reinet
And its Waterhole
10. it was raining
6 little plants … there were
7 of them
At first
(Jo Moze had taken number 7 with him
Up the mountain) hid their faces
From the sky
From the rain
Beautiful rain
Beautiful Black Mambaso rain
The one plant wanted to know
From its closest friend
(The one to the left side of him)
'Why had Jo Moze taken number 7?
Why had he done that?
Taken a chosen one?'
'God knows'
The friend answered
I stopped writing then and there
And looked out of the window
This rain's making me write weird pieces
Of literature
I thought
Oh La mort la mort
I am dead
And the way it was coming down
Right now … it wasn't worth it
La mort la mort
Am I alive?
But then I noticed the cat
Nicodemus
Was his name
It too was wet from the sour mucus rain
You could smell he was wet
You could see he was wet
He was wet
Wet wet
He was wet as wet as a wet cat
See how wet he was
Wet as a blanket that's been laying
In the rain in the backyard
For a long time
Laying there ever since the rain
Came
'The cat man was wet man
Wet wet wet!'
And it didn't like it at all
11. coming in from the rain
Where do you come from Kitty?
From outside?
Eh?
Is it raining eh … Kitty?
Poor poor Nikki!
Nikki doesn't like it does Nikki?
Eh?
Eh … Nikki?
Tomcat Master Nikki didn't open
Its mouth
What was there to say when it rained
Like this?
Like that?
Like in the times of Noah
When there was no space
On the boat for cats?
And when you were a cat
Coming in from the rain?
12. a new poem
'Let the cat be
Consentrated on poetry
Check out this one'
Ben butted in
'I looked out
Up from Windows … it rained
I opened a doc file … it rained
I sat still
Held my breath
It rained
There's no won to be won!
I opened Gates again … it rained
More 'gain
Then I took mousey
What do you guess?
A poem rolled out
And down the drain'
'Oh no no! Delete it!'
'Woef Its gone'
'Yesssss!
The rain has stopped
Start on New Poem
Oh no!
The rain's back … it came back
From where it went
Go for Old Poem
And down the 'Dows
Hurry go get Tools
Ran Diskfix
This rain's gone go man
And mmm then I
I'm gone go sneak back
To New Poem'
'But what do you guess?'
'It's raining dogs and cats
Screen blankers
Take a hammer'
Wham
'This rain's gone go goney
Stop-pee-dop-pee'
'Yes?'
'No + Oh what silly dilly poem!
Ha ha heh heh eh Baäl's drenching Old Poem'
And he changed the subject
Just like that
And the poem with an idea
Regarding silly values
Of semantic catagories … he deleted it
Without any ado
And the absolutely irresolute
Ambivalence
Of in all hit me
'Ambivalences and irrelevancies
In whatever poets write'
'Say let's go to Wàdi el
Mughârah
Where the moon is in the sky
Where the fools don't know why
They are down on their knees
Praying for rain
There's no rain to be won here
Why don't we try?'
Then both Ben and I agreed
And forgot about the superfluciousness
Of literature and the subject
Matter
And the idea of it at hand
And we started
Yet another New Poem
'Maybe a poem such as this one'
Ben suggested
' It rains
It rains so much
You won't
Believe it
Etc
How much'
It certainly would be much closer
To the bone won't it
When you cut out the bone
No?
You can end it off then with
'It's death creeping up on you
See it seeps
It walks
+
It stands up straight
(in brackets)
It watches you'
I argued
13. Karkemis
Walking back from Karkemis
It started to rain
I am wet
I am wet
Because of the rain I am wet
Oh the stupid rain!
But
Poems grow small buts
Big flowers come
And dirt change into sediment
Fermentating
And it becomes fertile
Poems will sprout
For Poets
There will be happiness
And change
'I like it!
I like poems!
I like my poems'
Ben said
And then he went for the story
Of Karkemis
'Etc' he continued
'And it started to rain
Outside' he refrained
'Stof was inside still
And the water buckets came down
And on the floor
The banks of the Jordan river
Overflow
The Stock Exchange started
To turn black
The Stars of Europe started
To fall from their cheap blue
Colours
Coucheskowian holes started
To appear
All over the sky
The water came down
Through the holes'
'Oh where do you go to my lovely?
Where do you go to from here?'
14. a bad symbol
'When's Jo Moze gone come back?'
Rain and/or No-rain-sun
Jackal's marrying Wolfy's wife
That's bad
'Not that bad?'
'Ok then it's naughty
And its nice
But maybe its not write'
14. dreamy girl
I once knew a lass way up
To the north
Way up past Trafalgar square
Way past El Kantara
She was a dreamy girl
And writing this
This minute
There's a song playing in my head
A song my dad used to sing
When he was my age
A long time ago
Ramona…
oh … Ramona
It was 20 years ago down the road
Way up way past Head Office Cadbury
Broxbury
And it doesn't matter!
And she's long gone
And he's long gone past my age
Too
And the wind blows
And the wind blows up the coasts
Of Le'Estrial
And it's going to rain man
And that's that man
And you think about that man
When you write about that man
15. no spiders
Up the mountain path Saskia's
Making the lee
Hi ho
Leading high or low
Dear little Red Riding Hood
Which poem shall we take?
Low road poem
Or high road Wallpaper poetry?
This one … no that one?
No this one's got a spider
Guiding its gate!
'I don't go for spiders Daddy'
Ok ok Hi ho
You lead the way
We take the good poem way
What'd you say?
16. in the fold of the mountain
It's true as the colour of the sea
At Theole-sur-Mer
True as Sue
True as green faced fluid death's
Yellow flowers
True as bread
True as red wine
True as the orthodox cross
Hidden in the fold of the mountain
Shining in the fold of the mountain
'You don't believe it?
Why?'
17. the difference
Walking in the rain
Looking for a dry spot
Finding none
I am singing in the rain
Theme I'm not happy again
'Seem I am wet
I am hurt
Oh Metusalag am I in France?
Oh Daughter of Jefta am I
In ghost country?
Look at the signs
They're all wrong!'
'Oh you don't know the places
You're in!
Oh you don't know the poems You're in!
You … Oh Confusius what's the difference
Between Rain poems and Road poems?
And what is Wallpaper poetry?
What Necro poetica?'
18. cAnnes
The sea
And the cold dying wet sea sun
(The sun was in the sky
And the sea was the water)
See the people of CAnnes
They are peroxided and cold
Old and dying
They are walking up
And down the bay
Walking on the Croisette
The boats are old and grey
It is cold
'Where is Maria Bros?
Where did the Lemmings go?
Who scared Virginia Woolfe
Away?'
19. displaying numbers
The people of CAnnes
Are all old
They wear wigs
Bleached with fashion
From Main Street Hades
They go up and down
Foreshore Boulevard Anglia
Up and down
In their Toyota Land Ranger
Jeeps
Displaying numbers like:
9392XA06 and 5238XL06
They buy cigarettes and booze
At cheap tobacconists
And they look at the boats
They are trying to flee
The encroaching Day
Of Armageddon
They don't get away
And those who did
Drowned
'The XTL la Salis sank
Didn't she?
Otto Joseph Matelot
On his way to China drowned
Didn't he?'
20. backward masking messages
The Prince-with-the-Iron-Mask
Fled to Sainte Marguerite
(It was my turn to reciprocate)
'The spirits are crowding
The chapel
Shunning the Watch Tower
On Cape de la Garderoupe
Exvoto Puget Re - AND
de la Garde pour
une Guérison 1956
The people of CAnnes
are all old
And past
And afraid
And morguefied
And they cite backward masking messages
Otto Joseph Matelot
a bord du Lutin a fait partie
de l'éxpèdition de la Chine du
tonkin et de l'Annam 1886'
21. it started to rain
It started to rain
Again and Ben said
'Go somewhere
Sssss-
Omewhere else
Elsewhere!
Just look at this place
Its a swamp
Elsewhere it must be dry'
'Cut this one
It doesn't fit!
Let Jo Moze try some…'
22. a surprise
Jo Moze came on as if he was
On command
All of a sudden he was back
From the mountain
And he was there as if he was just here
In the Waterhole with us
And he was for us
Yet it was a surprise
To hear his agey weathered voice
Croacking
Ben kept our still
He didn't dare to ask him whether
He had actually returned from
The moony mountain
Side
'I am used to aberations'
Jo Moze said
'But the rain?'
Ben asked
And Jo Moze stopped
The rain
Then and there
13. like a woman
Geralp Pierre Gardimi was
Created in like a woman
(This poem)
He came to the Waterhole
That very same afternoon
Jo Moze had stopped the rain
He was covered with dust
But when he sat down
And dusted himself up
He was pico-bello
But then
He hunched like a lettice
Craving for water and said
'I know I smell funny
like a womanBut its my job
At nights we do overtime
I mix poem pefume
And ingredients using all sorts
Of materials I scale
From the top floor
Bottles and such
Small bottles for small poems
See those bottles
And the poems smell
Too
The smell rubs off on you'
'Oh I see…'
Ben said looking at the empty beer
Glass infront of him
While taking a deep breath
Smelling into Gp's direction
14. then the rain came again
I was thinking about rain …
and
Then the rain came … again
15. since the rain came
The 6 plants whom Jo Moze
Had left behind sat very quietly waiting
For the rain to go home
They have waited in the rain
Since the rain came in the verses
Starting Sampel Four
'Hey Jo Moze give us back our friend!'
One suddenly called out
I thought about it
And about poetry
In general
And about my work
And I looked about me
There were only dust on the empty chairs
Surrounding me in the Waterhole
Nobody was in there with me
And … the empty beer glass
It was in front of me
Ben?
And the 4 cards?
What cards?
It was a lonely desolated afternoon
And very confusing the direction and way
New Poetry is taken me into … the way
It seemed it has changed into
Since the rain came
The rain that Ben and Jo Moze
Can put on and off at will
'Hey Jo Moze bring back our friend!'
'My god!
Poetry?'
16. Jericho
Telling stories with poems
High quality mummification
In Jericho at the Dead Sea side
' … It is good to be alive!'
Poems keep to themselves
And sssss'long you stick
To the scroll of Wallpaper
You are safe
Safer on burial ground
Awuuh!
Take two verses
Two at a time
Make 'em sound
Like something new
In the history of the Poetica Universalis
Geniralis
Then you take more verses
Also in that same time
Do the same with them
And voila you have a story
Born from the source
Of the collective unconsciousness
'You're not talking prose are you?'
Because if you are…'
Etc.
Telling poems with stories
resembling poems?
Are those not prose poems?
Ben ignored Gp's remark
'Oh sssssss easy! But don't
Dig too deep'
'What are you talking about?'
'I am talking about
The-Masked-man-and-Waste-paper
Necro-Poëtic-Wallpaper-Poetry-by-Argo Spier
That's what I am talking about'
'Oh but sure poems have
Taken on stupid forms
Excessive forms
Man look at the wild growth in form
Look at the Perdebushes with their long roots
The stof
No?
One finds 'em everywheres
Plus … and as if that's
A natural thing see?
And man these New Poems
… Just check 'em out!'
17. Argo Spier's wini ini file
Primary
secondary
backup
long range
short range
cryogenic
Berkeley Systems
theoretical
maximum
minimum
passive
background
distributed
restricted
Clarke
solar
lunar
CPU
heuristic
prior
main series
engineering
external
internal
station
NavCom
ATG
logistical
IBM
anticipated
ancillary
Mic(Rosft)
data rate
memory utilization
APGAR
containment
compute cycles
maintenance
laser alignment
docking module
level
projection
alignment
report
correction
analysis
feedback
limits
hiStory
graph
results
Skip the rest
It just goes on and on'
'Yeah we know what you mean'
And the wind was picking
Up again outside the Waterhole
And stof was coming in
Blowing in from across the Karoo koppies
There was no sign of rain
'Aaaaah absolutely
Irresolute ambivalence…'
18. down some water
'Let's get down to real work'
GP volunteered after silence had tied us
Together like sleezey conspirators
He slowly gulped
Down water that has dripped
Into his empty wasted beer glass
From a storm many years ago
'Let's work on real poems
Not this New Necro poetica computer shit
Let's do music and incorpurate smells
We use big bottles!'
And he opened up a poem
'In the middle of the night
Dark as death
A masked man came riding
On a camel
Like a Lawrence of Arabia
Sword in hand
And carrying a symbol
In the other hand
Drawling evil's his enemy
Him the son
Of a Saviour Knight
And a Messiah king
Oh he'll win 'em all
Struck 'em all down'
He took another gulp
Of water and continued
'And afterwards he'll return
To the Isle of Sainte Marguerite
What you'd think of that?'
He asked red herringly
And while waiting in silence
We saw the stof to settle down
Suddenly a gush of wind tore
At the door of the Waterhole
More dust came in
We knew it was a sign
Gp frightened upright
A candle of a past generation
Of poets
But we knew also
His thoughts were clean as venyl
19 Windows
Run…
Run
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yourname
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The King of Spain and his Wife
My Queen of Spain and my Wife
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Palace of Joy
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20. embarresment
The new genré forced it's
way in
From under the door
It came to the Waterhole
And to us
A slow snake
We the poets of Graaff Reinett
It came to us
It was an oracle
And we noticed how it entered
With the dust
And to save ourselves
From the embarresment
Gp outlashed a whip
Of blue lapis lasula
Bringing up a silly incident
That occured with a certain Chinaski
from America
In some previous getting together
Session
'Yeah'
Jo Moze whispered
'We know...'
His voice dried up
As a waddi riverbed
'God are you here
Still?' Ben schocked
Into his direction
But it was only his voice
That was there
It came from empty air
All that was in the Watrhole
Was the dusty empty arm chairs
And ghost atmosphere
'We barred the bastard good …
ay?'
'Of course we did
We are Karoan poets and we take no shit
You just wait and see … my theory
Will be prove write in the end'
And then write words came
Together write there
And we all laughed at it with relief
Oh the American's remark was a fool's
View of matters
'Stupid Buckovsky!'
'The more you read your own stuff
The more you will understand my stuff'
He had said
'Was a fool's idia wasn't it?
What an idiot!
What does he know about Wallpaper
Anyway?
'Did he said that literally?'
'Sure he did … but say are we working
Or what?'
Gp was eager to get on with the
real stuff
Some real serious literature New Poetry
And seances
And without waiting any longer
He picked up the Sainte Margarita theme
Again and recited
'Static life … and the next
day
The real scene
They gathered on the beach of Miramar
They had known about
The nightly raid
Phaedo Phaerus Timaeus
And Masked-Knight-of-Sint-Margarite
Sat on a rock
Feet in the water
Don't be metaphysically naïve
The soul belongs to the world
Of fluid forms … that's why it
Rain so much
It's easier to fight
That way
When all is wet
When the earth is dogged'
'Re you sure?'
'Absolutely
Poems are written that way
The Demiurge crafted the world
That way
Poems need water … that way
To spring to life'
'Not true!
Poems cAnnot spring to life
The are encryptions
They grow … they're like plants
And people
They just accept rain
And who said
One can fight better in the rain?'
'You know what I mean poems
Poems just happen
They're nothing
And then they're there
Out of nowhere they're there'
'It shows you … what
Has the sod rain to do with it?
And the soul?
Poems're a 3 fold mystical
Experience
Poems're a sort of time-continuum
Everybody knows that
Don't they?'
'Yes … but plants and people
're
Not the same
I just don't believe that
And anyway that's metaphysically
Not sound
Honestly that's metaphysically not sound'
'What are you people talking about?
Let's go write poetry and stay out
Of this piss of a rain!'
21. tachyons
He got excited
'And this one!
This one!
Look at this one!'
'This one!
This one!'
He shouted
'The one of the … the big mother poem!'
'For crying out loud … big
mother poem?'
'Poems tachyons flying faster
Than light?
En arche en ho logos
Word man … words
That's the beginning
The beginning are poems
Words words Wordsworth?
No?'
'What's in words
But words?'
'How should I know?
Poems are poems
And that's all
Aren't they?
Mothers or no mothers
Just watch sky an' you'll know
Why and how'
'…My oh my
Sky'
But before he could complete the
poem
Ben's took over
'The stof's getting into your eyes
Again
Reading poetry my poetry's
No easy matter!
Reading with all that stof
In your eyes
Your eyes turn blind from it
A poem's what you see in a poem
A poem goes bad from stof'
Ahhh man water's no problem
For me … eh?'
And immediately he entered a second
One not waiting for Gp to touché him
22. Sundays
'I went to a park
Sun Center Park
Expecting poetry
What did I get?
I got water!
Pools and pools of it
'S not fair!
Some people go to the pool
Like most go to church
On Sundays
They are like opened up Kinder
Like doors already open
They are open … fragile like girls
Small boys on byciles
Ready for coffins
Pools are morgues
You enter the water and you're dead'
Without pausing he shouted
'Ssssss true Moze isn't it?'
But it was my turn
Then
23. Lemon and Macarthys
'Lemon and Macarthy's
Using dirty tricks
Backward masking pricks
Afraid of real poems they do
O-bla-di-o-bla-da
Hi devil my devil
Good thing I don't belong
To that church anymore
Shoe devil bye devil
Rock 'n roll's as bad for the soul
As you can get … that's to say
If it is Rock 'n Roll
You get'
'Yessssss!' Ben shouted and waved
With his write hand a shaky a V-sign
'Not funny Ben!'
'Take it away man … and
This one! He just replied
'Texas Southside
In the pool in water warm
I'd like to wee in the water
And do like everybody else
Wee in the water … piss on death
But I don't … why am I?
Different from everybody else?'
24. a rare lichen
Then it was my turn again
The law of 4 had tossed
Its dice on me
I was the fourth card
'Tranquillity's easy
Easy to find
Give sky
Give water
Read
What I write
Don't read what I write
Janet Daley
Scan her face
Into a bitmap
Use it on me … yoo hoo you
Look for a rare lichen
You'll find it!
You'll find it in a 100 years
Entergrapha Elaborata
Bon appétit
Smakelijk eten
Enjoy your meal
Guten appetit
Velbekomme
Nice! Nice!'
25. nice women
I proceded with a third poem
Another non-existing card
'I got this thing about Mary …
three faces
Of Eve
I married into Dutch hands … there
Are nice women in Dutch hands
And lands
They sing songs
Songs that goes like
Ia mia ria mia ria row
Who is wolfy wow
Oh no no…
Ia mia ria ria ria wow'
26. nice women II
And while I was singing Mary's poem
Ben took a sip of water from his wasted glass
And when he had emptied it he added
An echo to Mary
'Once there was a girl … she
Was Buddist
She opened my eye for me
Why oh why did I
Wrote her a poem?
Oh and she had said to me …
why
Oh why why did you?
(And it got dirty)
This
Is but an inch of what I need
Oh oh and when I sang her the poem
She said
Hey this is a different song
But its nice
Oh I got this thing about Mary …
I
Need her face
For my face to kiss
Sure I married into Dutch hands … nice
womeny lands
They sing songs
Songs that goes like
Ia mia ria mia ria row
Who is wolfy wow
Oh no no no…
Ia mia ria ria ria wow'
'Quiet!' GP called out and he dug
into
Smelling the sound of the refrain
Her song
'A grand gesture samurai killing
Of a poem
What did you say about getting
Ideas after you had ideas?'
'That's small fry!
We can beat that!'
'And whose going to
Copyread the stuff?'
'How did you get to that?'
He ignored the question flat
'If Argo Spier were in here
Oh … Claudio Monteverdi's
Vespro della Beate Vergine 1610 Marienvesper
Would have been strung'
'What are you talking about?'
'Just an idea … does Argo
Spier know
About Nikolaus Harnoncourt?'
'Hen Ben … Monteverdi's out!'
'The fire was on the soul
And it had the write tempreture
It had a name now…'
I thought
'D you think the Muse's alive? …
I mean
Exists? Whispering poems when you're dry?
When your neck's stiff from watching sky?
My oh my why?
Do you ask!
I don't know … it's just that
The cutting edge's so thin
An' if you open up the door
Hell anybody can come in
Ghosts and so … and what
Do you do
When the wind blows?
When the Mistral comes
In from across the Koppies?
I mean … you are a ghost
Aren't you?
And you're the one asking questions
Like 'd you think the Muse's alive?
I mean exists?
Whispering poems when you're dry?
When your neck's stiff from watching
The sky
I don't know
Ask Timaeus
He writes poetry with loops
Such as
'd you think the Muse's alive?
I mean exists?
Whispering poems when you're dry?
When your neck's stiff from watching sky
Etc'
'My oh my …'
And in the Waterhole in Graaff Reinet
The knights were roosting prattling poetry
Round Table King Arthur when suddenly
Big-Finger-Golden-Eye came pointing
From the sky
Big Noise … white Light
'God … what was that?
Did you see that?'
Big-Finger-Golden-Eye started
To write in thin air
Don't go for backward masking
in poetry
Go for straight forward Wallpaper
Go for straight forward deconstruction
'You saw that?
Did you see that?
If that's not poetry man
Write from its first draft
I'll be damned
Where did that finger come from?
Oh White-Woman-of-Brandberg
The fallen Finger-of-God
Jerry cans of Water'
Phaedo had turned white
As that light from the sky
'Poems cAnnot spring to life
Like that … they grow
They grow like plants and people
Living in the rain
You know what I mean … poetry?
3 fold mystical experiences
Oh I just don't believe that!'
Timaeus shouted out loud
As loud as that noise from the sky
'That's metaphysically not sound
That's metaphysically not sound'
Phaerus begged white and loud
As that light and that noise
From the sky
'How can a poem be written
In thin air?
You saw that finger?'
Then night fell like a bad verse
Falls off from a good poem
The night fell from the sky
Gp's eyes had the madness
Of a poet gone too far
Jo Moze wasn't there
And I too didn't know what to say
Oh into the graveyard of source
Literary codes of poetry
Encryption
None of us breathed normal
'Good god this is good
It cuts so close to reality
But shut the door man
Shut the fucking door quick!'
Ben too was hysterical
But stopping wasn't on the agenda
His eyes were now two luminous buttons
He proceded touching the profet shawl
'How alive Necro Poetica's body
is
In the face of scrolling Wallpaper poetry
Storytelling!'
27. Jeremaih and a guy called Marcel
'He walked in right through the
door'
He said
'…Like the prophet he was
Holding his white goyem hair
Jeremaih … in his hand
He walked in and then out
Of this poem
And after that it was again
As if he was never in here
But he was … is
You can call him by his name
And he'll come again
Marcel
See he is here'
'Let me pick that up
I can push it further
Watch!' Gp dragging his own
Volunteering
'After the Inspirit with
The light
The noise after
Big-Finger-Golden-Eye
The rain stopped
For a while
It wasn't for long
But in that period of time stof
seemed to settle in again
The sky was smiling
Like a wet cat bitch calling me'
28. go home
'Don't tell stories with poems
Tell poems with stories'
Of course one can never dig
Up marrow that good
But I figuered
Big-Finger-Golden-Eye
And the noise
And the light that went with the noise
It all had a pointe
Draft copies of poems
Are as dangerous as
The real thing
And it was Ben who proved it
In the end
His solide pointe was this
'In the mist hanging over the sea…
you
Can see a man stalking on water
That man is me … see
How dangerous the cutting edge?'
Whether a story or a poem … just walk
If it rains … walk on water
Walk to Nineve if that's where you're going
Save your veldskoene but walk
Walk through the Great Orange River
Walk across the koppies
Walk like a knife
Blunt or sharp it doesn't matter
Just walk
Deus Ex Machina
Walkman … walk man
Walk on water'
And he scalped it to
An even greater precision
'Open an anthology
Priesthood of Man
Or any big
Thick biblical encyclopaedia
Page through the pages
Look at Velasques's Job
Keep on paging … page 348
King Amazia…'
And by god there (here) was King
Amazia!
'Joas is daring Juda
With a big noise and a crooked
Finger
Don't
Do that King Amazia!
You'll get hurt bad
(Joas wore a mask)
He was a Knight in Armour
Don't do that King Amazia
He said
You'll loose your stand
Oh don't do that
Don't mess with a Knight
He'll pour 13 liters
Of water down your throat'
29. down from the ceiling
Paper roll down from the ceiling
Paper roll onto the floor
Paper roll out of the door
Paper rol down into the fields
Paper roll into deserts
Cover the oceans
And in the Waterhole
In Graaf Reinette the poets were thronging
Articulating
Handwriting
Reasoning
Having problems
Seeking answers
Paging through big heavy
Anthologies of huge works
Of art
Commemorating finds
Answers
Found New kinds
And new rhyme
Rhythm
Mime
And
So on
'Oh the White-Woman-of Brandberg
The fallen Finger-of-God
Jerry cans of water'
And it got late
And thank god
Night fell down with the rain
Like a rock killing a spider
30. white spot
And it was then when the cat came
in … again
Nicodemus was his name still
The cat with the white spot
On his chest
The spot in the vicinity of his soul
He came treading in
Walking on our papers
Mud footprints
All over the final final drafts
He walked in
And out again
Write into the rain
31. phantom on a grave
I watched the scene
The umph timed empty beer glass
Stood in front of me
The Waterhole was as empty
As only it can be
There was no one in it!
I was alone
Like a phantom on a grave
'Be my numenozum
I'll be yours
Weird dream nice tetrakis
In here … you
Ben GP and abscent JO
Do you hear?
Do you hear me?
Do you dare here me?
Do you dare come in the water with me?
Do you dare walk?
Walk on water with me?'
'Do you dare to ask me this?'
'Yes
Yes I dare
For poetry I dare
I dare go with you' I whispered
And deep inside me
I felt my heart beating
And how it stopped
And I listened to the silence inside me
And hear the trailing away of all poetry
As the wind took it
And outside the Waterhole
in Graaff Reinet
I noticed how the draft copies
Of Sample Four dwirl
And were blown down the street
Towards the koppies
Of the Great Karoo
'Oh my love'
I said out loud for the first time
Since I had entered the Waterhole
I presumed it was me who spoke
'Poems Creation ex nihlo …
don't
Go for poems Creation ex nihlo'
Then I stood up left the lonely
Empty glass where it was
And tossed the cards
Into the dusty air
I was a drunken man
And a wasted poet
Then I wobbled out through
The swingdoors
Hitting them like Jo Moze did
A block of stone
And left the Waterhole
Of Graaff Reinet
For good
Ben was done
Gp had evaporated into thin air
And I?
I was done too
yellow oranges
1. yellow oranges
While driving on the highway I discovered
via Auto Express 3.0 a small town Gand-sur-Leie but then
deviation signs: Left, right and center
All along the banks of this little dirty old town
No Entry
I looked left … searching pass way
No Entry
I looked right … begging for help
No Entry
I looked back … trying to flee
No Entry …
'What can a man do when he is born
into what he is born into?'
2. she is working
This one she will love to love you
… Eatle
This one she will love
to illicit love write eate
Oh yes this one she will love
to work on
Voice voice white lightning
3. a ship without a sail
How does a ship without a sail passes
through the koppies in Sampel four? A kinkey boat hold on cellophane sea
sheets? How does the captain of it know when he is on solid ground …
again? Or on a straight road when he's got the Blue Sweet in his hand?
And when has the boat has stranded? How does a man account for the animals
that had seeked him out? And what about the crowd on his boat? And how
does a man account for the fact that nobody have tickets?'
'Man I don't know'
3. Noah's favourites
Animals? Love birds?
Had they handed in their tickets for the show
Beforehand? And the Sky Masters? Clementines? The Yellow Oranges?
'What animals? Spiders? Cats?
Noah's favourites?'
4. copy righted stories
The following day it wasn't raining
and the sun was shining. I was quite surprised. I mean … sun? What's
the meaning of sun? Oh and neighter did the wind blow.
'Amay-sing!' I had said to myself
while trying to cope with the nice day. That was when my favourate ghostwriter
came by in my office in my dining room in front of the T.V.
'Hi' he said 'Look what I've got!'.
He was so excited and thrilled that
his hands were shaking. And he gave me a lot of words on a floppy disk.
'Its a lot of words there is on this floppy' I said to him after I had
looked at it on the screen of my 486.
'Look at 'em! Look at 'em! Its a story! Greatest show on earth! This is
new soap. It's copyrighted but … and eh … why don't you use
it?'
'No' I said 'I am busy with something else ... Blue Sweet and besides
I don't use copyrighted stuff! Give it here!'
The sun was shining and it was such a day. I liked what I thought.
'This is good! This is good!' I exclaimed and used it.
'True as paper on screen! Road paper! Where did you get it from? Sure
I can use it. Will it be noticed if I use it as it is? It saves time for
me' I said to him.
'Sure it will be Angelo Branduardi's!'
'Mmmm ... Mariano Fortuny's Desnudo Biluzia also made it ... it size was
what made it!'
'What if I change all R's into G's? Change names and so on?'
'That wouldn't make sence now would it?'
'No…? Watch this'.
5 you come with me?
'Soggy about that.
I hid my hat in it.
Mummy will neveg find them. Nog will Jhonny.
Jhonny? Was he in my goom? Get on now, Stefi?
Wendy, is evegything algight? Jenny says, we've been buggled.
Don't panic.
What age these pills? Come on. What age they?
Whose age they?
You needn't ask. T'hey'ge hegs, eh?
And you let that idiot ... Simon!
It's tgue but I am no idiot and they'ge not mine.
What?
No, they'ge not mine. Why bgeak in when it gains?
Whose age they then?Now I know whose.
Of cougse ... Jhonny! Who? What is he to you?
Nothing! No? And his CDs? And these pills?
They'ge not fog me. Fog what, then?
We'll know sooneg og lateg.
In any case, you'll both be in big tgouble.
That's what I say.
You'll stay till you tell us, Wendy, age they Jhonny's?
No. What am I supposed to do?
Nothing. She's gone too fag.Buggling youg own family.
She didn't bgeak in.
No, Stefi gave me the key. No, it was Jhonny.
That's not tgue. Shut up!
He came fog his stuff this mogning.
But you thgew him out. Shut up!
Shut up? That's good. Yes, I thgew him out.
These pills age ... Say just one ... Ecstasy.
Thank you. Cow. I knew it. He sells it.
What, do you take Ecstasy?
No, I just kept it fog Wendy.
Aunt Paula wouldn't find it.
But you don't take it?
No, it was fog Jhonny, but Daddy came downstaigs.
So, if I hadn't got up we wouldn't have known.
Do you know about Stefi's boyfgiend?
A student. She was at it all evening.
But you take theig ...?
Wait a bit. Not now, Simon.
So, you get them fgom Jhonny.
You let him do it, you stupid ...
Stay calm, Paula.
No. How long have you been doing it?
How long? Give me an answeg.
It was the figst time. Tgue og not, it's too much.
Boagd heg out, then we'ge gid of heg.
Keep out of it.
Keep out? Seen the mess upstaigs? Who did that?
And youg two-faced daughteg is innocent.
Who let Jhonny into this house?
Enough! Bedtime! It's too late to talk too!
Enough I said, I'm tiged. We'll all go to bed.
We'll think again tomoggow. Wait! Who's lying in youg bed?
No one. It's impossible. I went to look ... Jhonny!
That gounds it off nicely. You come with me.
Shouldn't Simon come?
What fog? He might do anything.
Let heg sogt it out. It's OK. I'll manage.
I've always coped alone. Always alone.
Because no one wanted heg?
I'll fix the window. Go on then.
We'll talk lateg, about moge than pills.
I wouldn't make too much out of it.
Stefi ... Age you suge you don't take pills?
Yes, Mum, I'm quite suge.
Go on now. Go to bed. See? Thege's no one hege.
Whose is this then? I got it fgom Jhonny.
Now it's finished. No disco, no money.
No moge Jhonny. School finishes at quagteg to foug.
You'll be hege at ten to foug.
Good mogning, Ann.
What age you doing hege?
Don't woggy, I'm much betteg.
Look, it doesn't hugt at all.
But ... those pills geally help.
But you do get a headache.
You should be at home.
That won't cuge the headache.
Yes, but ... ah, you've made coffee.
You needn't have.
Have you used decaffeinated? It's my stomach.
And those pills of yougs don't help.
It's sticking again.
We'll have to have it ggeased.
How age you?
I didn't sleep.
Was Jhonny still hege?
But I was gight.
I found his jacket in heg bed.
What will you do? Keep heg locked away.
Is that the answeg? I've tgied to undegstand heg.
Listen, I get anggy, shout and scgeam, nothing helps.
She's lying and cheating. Now we won't get the chance.
I believe it was the figst time. I can't believe heg anymoge.
It's one thing afteg anotheg. Figst losing a schoolyeag.
Then that David she sees without my knowing.
And now Jhonny, and dgugs. She'll dgive me mad.
Paula, she's still young. She's neagly 18.
Doesn't she know good fgom bad by now?
Og it's my fault. It must be.
So now Wendy hegself is innocent?
6. cactus earth
But the little flower assured her
by saying 'Writers never forget lovers!'
That made the Queen very gay, for
she had secretly known that all along. But she had to keep her poise of
course and sternly said 'I was never in love with Argo Spier. We just
had a chance meeting … one day … ohh… At the court of
Armagh after he had first conquered the love of the people of the North
with his gentle stories and beautiful poetry…' and she almost added
'… and me'.
She bit off her words and just said
'He came to read his Wallpaper poetry at the court … and anyway
it was so many years ago when he was a Jung man still'.
And she swooned off into the past.
'I remember … there were steps
on the way home one night … and a million stars were shining so
bright. He took my hand… when he read his poetry! Oh, such beautiful
verses that he writes! I remember the moment I first lay eyes on him so
well. I had my best face on and… Ohh how is it with him?'
And she sighed a longing sigh.
'I know … about the stars'
the little leaf said. 'I was there with him! In his pocket. The stars
shone like lights on a crystal bridge. And the candy hanging from heaven
… ready to be plucked by lovers who dared taste forbidden fruit'.
The queen blushed even more. The
little cactus had become one of her dearest confidants. She kissed it
again and ordered the best cactus earth her kingdom could provide for
it.
And that night she painted her toes
and her nails as red as there was never a red before. The little flower
watched her from its new dwelling on the windowsill of the biggest window
in the Queen's castle and secretly smiled while it thought 'I told Argo
Spier this would work! But man in what stupid story have I come into existence…'
And the queen had fallen for it!
And they lived happily ever after. Enchante mon petit ami
7. how does she shows it?
The disco's youg idea, and Jhonny
too?
Maybe that's how she shows my appgoach is wgong.
You've nothing to blame yougself fog.
I don't want heg to end badly. Of cougse.
I can't handle heg anymoge.
Nonsense. What about you?
Didn't I always have to take you in hand?
And you ended up algight, didn't you?
It's just the cgazy yeags. Wendy's last so long.
Sometimes I think I should have maggied.
Do you think that's easieg?
With the gight man, yes.
Yes, and how often does that happen?
No, Paula. Even when you compgomise, it's still ...
But isn't it betteg with Simon now?
Yes, if you hold on.
My pgoblem is that I get fed up with men so soon.
Geally?
Neveg seen a man eating?
Yes, a man. He's always had an appetite.
How can you? Is thege any cola?
And cHolestegol? What about it?
I was sitting thege. I've sat hege fog 32 yeags.
What's this mess? Oh deag, it's a bad mogning.
And why?
Natacha, didn't Ann tell you to stay at home?
I've given up tgying. Neveg give up youg duty as a doctog.
Whateveg happens, you'ge gesponsible.
She just doesn't listen to me.The law isn't vegy cleag.
But if thege is delibegate negligence, she can claim.
I won't do it. What could happen hege, doctog?
Watch out. Most accidents age in the home.
That's tgue! What about college?
At 10.31. Tell youg motheg you'ge hege.
Yes, Pa.
And why. Evegything? At noon go to the college gestaugant.
I'm eating hege, I'm fgee. Figst go thege.
They have a few jobs fog students.
Pagdon?
You heagd. You've agganged it all?
I'm like that. 12.46. Mg Deqlegq.
Don't dawdle, 101 othegs want a job.
Hello Wendy. Won't you answeg?
Hello, Aunt Penny. You scaged us last night.
Youg motheg's still not gight.
Geally? Couldn't you just ...
Aunt Jenny's gight.
If you find youg daughteg takes dgugs, you feel gotten.
But I'm not on dgugs. Once, but not twice, OK?
Did you leagn a lesson?
Anyway, all it does is make me sick.
And no moge Jhonny?
I didn't say that. You can see what he's like.
Dgop him. You don't know him.
Wendy, I know you'ge in love.
I know it hugts when you find out he steals.
Jhonny doesn't steal. Is anything missing, aunt?
With all that fuss, I don't know. Nothing's been stolen.
He's no thief! You don't want to heag it.
I'm thinking of you, I don't want you to he unhappy.
I was anggy.
You'ge still anggy.
I'm not always wgong, you know,
You age this time.
Can't you find anything betteg?
He asked to wait fog him, and I will.
Whege age the scissogs?
Whege they always age.
Paula, come and look at this!
What is it? Twenty thousand gone.
No, he's not a thief! Didn't you take it?
I foggot.
The police. Is that best?
Give me a geason why not.
You can visit him in pgison. I'll tell the lot.
Not the pills, fog Wendy's sake.
Have you got all youg money?
Tom! If the doctog knew you wege looking in his papegs.
He's at the haigdgesseg's. You 'ust don't do that.
Wendy Blue? Gings a bell.
The butcheg's daughteg?
She's not bad. How old is she? Seventeen and seven months.
Is it about Wendy, fgom the specialist's? But Natacha? No!
Don't you have to go? It's past two.
Don't feel like it. That's the way to get on.
Called youg mum?
Pa can do it, he likes that. It's bad enough algeady.
Make suge of that job, og you'll get a hiding.
That job can go and ...
I've got a much betteg idea, a scagy one.
You and youg ideas. What is it now?
That's none of youg business.
Thanks. I hope you know what you'ge doing.
I've neveg known it betteg. Neveg!
Ah, Peteg.
Paula. The doog was open. It sticks a bit.
I'll oil it. It's moge like someone's fiddled with it.
Do you have the specialist's gepogt?
No, it will come today. Shall I go and see?
No. I know what was wgong with Wendy.
And what's still wgong?
I know you'ge closed, but would you ...?
It's only last week. Just a tgim?
Og have you got plans fog tonight?
Sit down, I'll dgess. Is that necessagy?
And if anyone came in, what would they think?
It's not easy to get in, you'd need a good geason.
Why do you come on closing days?
Coincidence, puge coincidence.
OK, that was the TV, anything else?
Eh ... maybe the lamp?
Oh, Simon.
Yes, but the table's too heavy to steal.
Take this, the police will he hege.
I'm cugious, about the disco and that student.
No, I said we wege going to talk, we'll do it now.
It was nothing, just an exegcise.
A what?
That's what we call it when a boy tgies.
An exegcise? Not bad. It's a cleveg idea.
Suge?
Yes. I'ell him to keep his hands off.
Don't imagine I do it with anyone.
I hope not. You know what I dgead?
The day I have to give you to some ...
Not yet. You'ge neagly the age.
It won't be long.
When I do meet one, it won't be a Jhonny.
That would be ggeat. Ha, a student.
What's he studying? I don't even know.
He's thege. Is youg thing, youg CD playeg downstaigs?
Yes. Ah, Fegdinand, you'ge thege, good.
Hello, miss. It's upstaigs.
Hello, Cob. He's not hege.
He doesn't want you, get it?
Must nothing, just leave us alone.Who was that?
Wendy? Wendy? Sounds like she's hugt you pgetty badly.
She's anggy because I gave heg away.
Luc, doesn't it have anything to do with what you said to papa?
Not to talk so loud? No? Why did you say that?
Because I thought it was about the past.
That he shouldn't pgeach to ine afteg what he used to do.
Is he at it again?
I don't know I hope not.
Stefi, if something's going on, I have a gight to know.
Of cougse. Age you fgee tonight?
Why?
To go out fog a meal. It would be difficult tonight.
And tomoggow?
I don't know I think not. Didn't you enjoy yougself?
Yes, I did. It was fun, but ... I'm going too fast.
Don't misundegstand, I've always been alone.
You've lost the habit. I undegstand.
It was a long time befoge I daged ask you out.
How shogt?
So I can come back next week. On closing day?
Peghaps.
How many gooms?
Five gooms and two bathgooms.
And a pgice to match?
Only 27,000!
Will you hold my laddeg again?
I can come this aftegnoon.
No, it can't be in pgime condition.
That's pegfect.
OK, until this aftegnoon'.
8. stuff, themes and things
'Masked man' I thought and looked
out of Windows. It was coming down geal hagd now … will it eveg
stop?'
Also Gp popped up. He was in the wrong story. Also his script was off.
'I know what you are thinking about' he said 'but it doesn't matter. It
has something to do with … how can I put it? It has something to
do with the linking of the stuff the themes and things … stories
… words and other things'.
'No I said, 'It has also something to do with the kind of poems I write.
Wallpaper poetry and sky and all. And the general watching and waiting.
And the Wall. The Traces
…de-
construction … double talk etc. And the messages I want into the
texts … art-historical issues etc. And of course it has something
to do with the filling of this
abcdebeateannxlovesxmexyoufghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz line'.
'Yeah I read you…' Jo Moze croacked voice answered. He was also
in the wrong story … or his ghost was…
'Say where'd Argo Spier gone to?' Ben wanted to know. Also in the wrong
story…
'Please you guys … Getttttttt t out! You had your throw in Sample
Four' I rebuked and thought 'My god … how can I keep my statue with
this going on!'
I was very hard for me to keep my posture.
9. voice poems
Working on Voice poems … 's
not easy being a good poet. Not easy being as good as you…
'Yeah? …Oh!'
10. add it on
Voiceless poems.
'Maybe I write them some day and add 'em onto Yellow Oranges … placing
them here! Oh it'll become a big book! Maybe I could even call it Blue
Sweet?'
11. they sing songs
'Oh give me a lot of India. Select
real names of places, names of people, collect what they say, their voices,
use of words, semantic categories, syntaxis, etc. Ghandi?. Look for references
to English writers, Eg. Foster. Passage of India. That sort of thing.
Get source codes. Words refering to incidents, colours and smells! The
following can serve as an example. Ok? Then you get back to me…'
I told the ghostwriter after we had consumed the soap in Yellow Oranges
and he had (by god this is true) brought a crate of yellow oranges for
me!
'I could go and get myself home' I thought.
13. her sari
I hang her sari
over the back of my chair.
'Hey Gp I told you to get out!'
The smell?
'And you too Ben! Take Jo with you! We're closing shop now with Blue Sweet'.
Anyway she was there too and I wrote
this:
I got this thing about Mary.
I married into Dutch hands.
Nice women in Dutch hands.
They sing songs.
Songs that goes like this
Ia mia ria mia ria row.
Who is wolfy wow.
No no oh no, yessss.
Ia mia ria ria ria wow.'
'…Its easy' the ghostwriter
said 'Just don't waste time and move man move! Repeat what you write …
repeat… Like this!'
'I got this thing about Mary
I married into Dutch hands.
Nice women … they sing songs,
Songs that goes like:
Ia mia ria mia ria row.
Who is wolfy wow.
No no oh no, yessss.
Ia mia ria ria ria wow'.
blue sweet
1 high heels
Young gals walk on. And off. On.
Page International. Marble. Passage ways.
They know. The distance between Gate A. And H.
Well. Up. And forth clicking.
On stone. High high heels. Going on.
Errands. Entering glass doors. Closing.
Opening High. Tech doors. Page.
Was built for them. Page was built to house them. Page.
Where he sits. Sees. Hears. The tapping of stone.
Smells. Feels the sounds. Of stone.
It seems. As if the tapping. On the floor was.
Composed to fit. His ear. His eye.
The sound of stone. Their walk.
2. too
She was smaller. Than Page. Her lips.
Redder. Her eyes. Inquisitive.
Brownier bluer. Hair whiter. Whiter.
Than his. Hers. His face.
Nutmeg. Strange face. She.
Was reading. A book. A book.
With a strange name. She. Stretchable mesh.
Breath. A mermaid. A Daniella.
She exuded. His. The miasma of mothballs.
And youth. The book's cover. Was nutmeg.
Too. It was. A strange book.
The title was:
Orthography and. Blood. On the Frosty
Steppes. Of Argilapago
3. like thunder
A leap of. A heart. A sound.
Recognition. Deja vu. The deadly.
Moment. Stephen Floyd. And his band.
Of men. 10 guitars. In Munich they came.
Onto the stage. They lit up. The stage.
Thunder omnipresence. Like thunder. Sound.
And light. In the dark. They open the cellar door.
It's a trap. Heaven. Bliss.
Hell. Somewhere love. You were.
There.
4. blackish high
Boyish. Womanish. Mannish.
Girlish. 34-ish. Or lessish.
Blackish leather. Meretricious miniskirt. Blackish hair.
Meringue white. Hands. Blackish nails.
Living pearls. Colour. Arms neck.
Darkish back. Darkish legs. Blackish high.
Heeled shoes. Punkish zips. Moving moons.
Trembling. Orbits. Above the left.
Heel visible. Only from the behind. A catfish tattoo.
A spider. Or butterfly. A small little word.
Fuck it says. And from. The front.
Where face should have. Been. No face.
5. Coming
Walking. As if on ice.
Cold snow.
She moved slowly. Towards the exit. Door.
The end. Of a sterile passage. Ice ice Woman.
Made out. Of steel. Teeth.
Nose. Ears. Out of steel.
Torso cast-iron. Arms. Legs.
Brass copper. Tits. Out of stone.
Travelling North. Pole. Coming.
South Pole. Leaving. Home.
6. into locked cubits
Stale. As. Chestnut tasting. Cheese.
Beechwood trees. Brown eyes. Never blue eyes.
Rims. Cheese. Left too long.
Wasted. Too long. Hidden.
Too long shut. Into locked cubits. Pale.
As Page Pale Ale. Beer coloured. The colour.
Of vomit. Ingrown. As.
Toenails. Passé as. An aeroplane.
South African. Airways. A rainbow.
African-planes. Flying companies. Planes.
Bleak as. Ships. Sleepy ships. Cargo carriers.
Homespun scenes.
7. encrypt deconstruction
British Airways. Luxavia Travel Agencies.
Shuttles.
Trams. Buses. Espace.
Minibuses. Funerals with a lot. Of absentees.
Of dead words. Stone statues. Symbols.
Phallic Spears. Sentences.
With encrypt deconstruction. Texts. Magic Fractualscapes.
Languages.
It stresses that
you resurrect the words
Going.
Leaving. Coming. Staying.
Dying. Living. For good.
Throw.
8. A smell of mucus
The black necklaces. Covered faces.
A fire put.
To It. A secret. Eyeball juice.
Yours. My country. It was drunk.
Aids. You acquired. HIV.
You were. The guilty bastard. Methane
and/or Carbon-dioxide. A smell of mucus. A slam.
In. Your face. Your.
Face.
9. Baby love
Skin story. Dark night. She. Fell
off a tram.
Broke. A leg. Run from me baby.
Sweet baby. Run. Love.
Baby love. Love. Dove.
Love. Terrible day. Night.
Day. Clear day. Dark.
She. Fell. Off a tram.
Broke an arm. Skin story. Dark morning.
Run from me baby. Sweet baby. Run.
Love baby. Love. Love.
Dove. Love. Terrible day.
Night. Day. Clear day.
Dark.
10. Germ generator
Information. Entertainment. What
else?
Do you want tactile. Sensation? It?
No? When? No.
Germ generator. No. Not.
When someone else. Decides to. Provide It.
Life. Timeless reach. The shelf of life.
Itself. My life.
11.Super-couch potato
Prodigy phone. Compu-Serve. Delphi.
Genie. New York Times. Phone
Time-Warner. Newsweek. Ziff-Davis.
Get knowbot. To do the knowwork.Teamwork.
All of the work. Hard work. Be ubiquitous.
Nimble. Firm. Super-couch potato.
12. Astute tennis couches
Astute tennis couches. Sense-jarring
clamour. And so on.
The workhorse fled. The shredding. Has started.
Read.
A mag-
azine with high-defi-
nition pictures. Of Steffi Graf's racket.
Arjen Lenstra of Bellcore's. Quantum Cryptography. And so on.
13. harbingers
The fourth attempt. Was under way.
Harbingers increased.
New things. Were coming. They came.
As luxury suits. She came. Quickly.
They became. They turned de rigeur. Process.
Maddening. When reiterated. The whole day.
14. long straw
She was fragile. Too fragile. Too
young.
Her mouth. Never closed. Never opened.
Not even. When she was. Talking.
Or not talking. She was drinking. Coca Cola.
With a very. Long straw. Marjoram.
She was. So lovely. Teenage.
Sweaty. Her scent. Fragrance.
Air. Hands. Sharp.
Kites flying. She slurped. From a cheap Crystal. Alken Coke Airport Glass
.
Her eyes saw. Everything that moved. Sat.
Saw. She finished. The Coke.
Got up. Took her bag. Took.
Her passport. Went. To Check In.
Entered the Waiting hall. Left me. Staring.
Sitting. Slurping at my own. Empty Crystal.
Alken Coke Airport Glass. With. No straw.
13. run
Run. Don't run. Go go run.
Run run. Don't. Run.
Don't run. Go run. Run please run.
Don't. No go. No.
Run run. No. Oh.
Please don't. Run. Run.
Run.
14. blue River
What kind of dances. Do you play?
What kind.
Of play. Do you play? What kind of.
Venom love? In your brain? In.
Your vein? Daniel Martin. Blue River.
Kitty. From Orange River. What kind of.
Dances do you. Play? What kind.
Of play? Do you play? A woman from Malmesbury.
A pregnant woman. From Malmesbury. I will tell you.
She told. Me. I will talk.
In your place. Tell me. What kind.
Of dances do you. Play? What kind of play.
Do you play? What kind of. Venom love.
In your brain? Daniel Martin. Blue River.
Kitty. From Orange River. What kind?
Of venom love? In your brain? In your vein?
A pregnant woman. From Malmesbury. I will tell you.
She told me. I will talk. In your place.
What kind. Of dances do you. Play?
What kind of play? Do you play? What kind?
Of venom love. In your brain? Daniel Martin.
Blue River. Kitty from Orange River. What kind.
Of venom love. In your brain? In.
Your vein? In your vein?
15. blue Honey
Which way? Honey Suckle. Which way?
Do you. Want to sway? Which way?
Which way. Do you? Want to sway?
Which way? Blue Suckle? Which way?
Blue Honey? Gold. Which way?
Which way? Do you. Want to sway?
16. social equity
Soft as ice. Rugged as wool. Subservient.
As social equity. Enhanced chasmic. A difference.
Which way? River? Or Mountain?
Blue. Mountain?
17. Blue Space up
And you're lonely. And you. Don't
know which.
Way. And your words. Are juxtaposed with images.
Of long Bien Temps. Ago. Blue Space. Up the slopes.
The Hex River Mountain. Blue Space up. The rolling down.
Rolling downs. And you're lonely. And you don't.
Know which way. And your words. Are juxtaposed with images.
18. random generation
Heartrending emotion. Intangible
value. A ship.
In the harbour. A TGV. In the waiting hall.
Twofold serendipity. Faint promise. Synergy.
An aeroplane. Leaving you behind. A sentence.
Random generation. Alphanumeric words. Sprawling complexes.
Enamoured blindness. Rote memorisation. Augmented human capacity./And
you're lonely. And you. Don't know which way.
And your words. Are juxtaposed with images. And the river. The Hex River.
The mountain. Blue gold.
And the blue. Space. Up the rolling down.
Rolling downs. Rolls down. And you're lonely.
And you don't know. Which way. And your words.
Are juxtaposed with images. Of long Bien Temps. Ago.
And alphanumeric words. Sprawled complexes. Enamoured blindness. /And
rote. Memorisation. Augmented human.
Capacity. And you're lonely. And you.
Don't know which. Way. And your words.
Are juxtaposed with images. And you're lonely. And you don't. /Know which.
Way. And.
Your words are juxtaposed. With images. And you're lonely.
And you don't. Know which way. And your words.
Are juxtaposed With images. And you're lonely.
And. You don't know. Which way.
And your words are. Juxtaposed. With images.
And you're lonely. And you don't know. Which way.
And your words. Are juxtaposed. With images.
And. You are.
19. shivering
My lovely. Fox. Page said.
Bright flaming reel. Shivering. Into.
The night. Hide. Fox.
The. Winds. Of distance.
The. Tallest. The. Fox.
Fire. The fox. Illicit storm.
True. The Dark.
20. animosity
Coming up. Straight face. Walk about.
So he said. Simon Albeit said. He said.
She said. Said. What is this talk.
Of animosity? What is this talk. About?
Com-
munication? Cast down. An eye.
Stand still. Simon said. Ned.
My brother.
21. don't waste time
Away. Look up. Going down.
Going for ever. Sing. A song.
Who missed. Changes? Who missed.
Smiles? Who missed. Half.
Of a smile? Who? Away?
Straight face? He said. Ned.
Don't waste time.
22. unmarried asses
The winds. Of destiny. She.
Wrote on. A note. Pouring rain.
Dry heart. Grey raincoat. Grey beard.
Redbeard. Take. The women.
All the women. All unmarried asses. Lasses.
Lots of passes. First calls. What passes?
Last calls. Poems? Last calls.
Where. Is the hanging? Husbands?
Wives?
23. her song
Teeny-wheeny agers. The girl moved.
In unchanged land.
Moved. Underneath unchanged bridges. Passes.
A block of tower. Rang out. Her hair.
Sang out loud. Her song. Walk along.
Where is. The poem? Where?
Is the poem?
24. penguin land
Hey you. Prison walls. Penguin land.
The poem? Once again. The poem?
And once again. When you are lonely. And your words.
And she. And your words. And.
Once again. The poem? Wet land.
Hey prison walls. Hey Penguin land. The poem?
Where is. The poem? She said.
Those films. Are out. For almost 20 years.
Now. No. They're not.
Are they? My poems? Once again.
The poem? And once again. When you are.
Lonely. And your words. And she.
And your words. And. Once again.
The poem? Wet land. Hey prison.
Walls. Water land. Sky. Once again.
The poem? And once again. When you are lonely.
And. Your words. And she.
And your words. And. Once again.
The poem? Wet land. Hey prison walls.
Penguin land. Where. Is the land?
Prison walls? Sky?
25. germinate
She sat. Eyes closed. A while.
Kniender Falkengott. Köpfchen. She moved. Eines sterbenden Galliers.
Germinate. Once.
26. bullet in
Continental breakfast. Eyes basket.
Away.
Desmond Lowden. Crime is. Suspenseful.
Bullet in. The eye. Hillary.
It is so early. Have you. Locked the room?
Hillary? Don't look. At me.
That way. Please.
27. naked episode
Past. Wreath of commas. Gasmeter.
There is. A radio link. The woman.
Calling. Wait. On the radio.
Over. Over. Hear.
Over. Clever. Clear.
The bank caper. Cliff-hanging. Naked episode.
Voice. Over. Again.
And. And anybody's going. The moving.
Stairs. Peterman. Gasman.
Gasman ring your bell. Ring your bell. Oh I'll come.
Oh I'll stay. Call.
28. cystidia yellow
Yellow flesh. Pink purple. A drop.
Of ferrous sulphate. Brown-grey. Olive brown.
Cystidia yellow. Encrusted with brown. Wide open.
OS/2 Warp. Open tubes. Lemon yellow.
Golden yellow. Long. Stipe.
Slime. Slimy cuticle. Yellow fungoid aroma.
Yellow with brown. Yellow kiss.
29. honey
Russula foetens. Say. Fellea.
Why? Do you. Have such a honey aroma?
Why do you. Taste so bitter-sweet? Why.
Do you have. Such a burning.
Taste?
30. encrypt deconstruction II
Milton is. Lost in. His earth. Felt
like a wound.
What was. Gained?
In. Paradise? What was.
Gained? Wondrous pontiff. What trophies?
What magnificent deed?
(Snakey
seducy Evy.Nopy escapy.)
Enchanting daughter.
Mother Nature. Slow little frog. By night.
Listen. By light. Listen to.
The hapless air. With long reach. Man.
Woman. Descend. Jacob's ladder.
Wait. But future. Time of joy.
What was lost? Found? In Paradise?
What gained? Who? Wondrous pontiff.
What magnificent. Crystal ball? Blue Sweet.
31. blue sweet
Wait. Admiring stood. Not instant.
But tidings' fraught. Thus the silence broke. Listen.
To this. Voice C. Mittwoche. Blue sweet.
Venetian boiled. Crystal Sweet. Hold it towards.
The light. See. The Sky.
The colour. Of Blue. Of the.
Sky. The red colour. Of Red toe nails.
A tie. Oh mostly. I want.
You. To want. Oh mostly.
I want. You. To want.
The red colour. Of Red toe nails. A tie.
See. The Sky. The colour.
Of Blue. Of the. Sky.
Other storytelling poetic sequences by Argo Spier
Bogy Road - A multi-levelled search into the essence of Wallpaper poetry
and glimpses of the power and darker sub-conscious side of Necro poetica.
Sampel Four -Wallpaper poetry and Necro poetic seances, moving into the
absurd with the printing out of wini.ini files as poetry.
Mucus Gravel - A compilation of sea and farmer poems, hilarious Wallpaper
poetry and beautiful songs.
Raam - The only work in his mother tongue, the Afrikaans language; a Kubrickian
space narration with translations of poems into various languages.
Municipal Paint Opera Lodge Café - Containing The Blackwater Stories,
Wallpaper poetry and dreams.
Santa Christiana D'Aro - Wallpaper poetry and a brilliant and homely story.
Belim Tower Road - Wallpaper poetry, containing perfect illustrations
of Necro Poetica, the resurrection of words already said and cold and
the creation of fragile Vestalian sound poetry.
On the beach of Ville St. Gillis Croix de Vie - Miscellaneous and uncompleted.
Mister Page on Page International Airport - Miscellaneous.
A Lover's Sundae Sarum - Anniversary love poems.
Douche and Addition - Poetry and columns.
Zinzli come home Albi - Summer Poems from Chur.
Seasons of Sarum - Storytelling poetic sequences and a deep drive into
Sarum.
Green Muse Trying - Columns and Storytelling Wallpaper poetry.
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