Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Fly: Selected Poetry by Steven Pratt.

"Steve fly Pratt provokes the reader into a notorious intellectual ghetto, conspiracy theory. His methodology is susceptible to number of pitfalls. It is a daring genre. It is based on risks, like poetry or Bebop."--Christian Greer.

The language of poetry requires a careful balance between spontaneous thought and various charging techniques, to pull down thought into alphabet and not stray too far from the laws. These words are shored from contaminated streams of consciousness, and deployed as snapshots. Brief excursions. Good poetry aims to charge language to a higher degree of meaning and i have no lesser aim to, power-up. Selected from writings started in America, Britain and for the most part, the Netherlands. These poems criss-cross between light hearted rhyming slang and exaggerated hyperbolic rap. Glossing everything from brexit to terrorism, facebook to John Coltrane, economics, psychedelics, anarchism, music and death. Sometimes hilarious, often cryptic and always rolling with rhyme, these scrawls bridge a decade or from the unique perspective of DJ, drummer and writer.


Product details:

File Size: 252 KB
Print Length: 134 pages
Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
Publication Date: October 8, 2017
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC
Language: English
Text-to-Speech: Enabled
Word Wise: Not Enabled
Lending: Not Enabled
Screen Reader: Supported
Enhanced Typesetting: Enabled

Steve Fly 33.

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Dude Lie pt. 1

who's it gonna' be, who?
and what policy
good for me well bully for you
will it be lucky Les'
the police commissioner
pardon me chap,
computer engineer
fancy that

Ian 'bostin' Austin
hard labour hanger on
what policy?
universal basic income?
on. Get hip to J.C doood.

Bill 'the swill' Etheridge
for the purps
previous 9,000 plus votes
bursting purple, snap.
what policy?

Blue, red and
all bursting shades of

red has slightly more
oxygen in it

nuff' bout the bloody puppets,
what gwarn' wit the policy?

This is not some kind of a
gameshow. snap.
this is politics in
Dudley, snap.


"Why can't we live together?"--Sly

I ain't no politician, i am not studied in arts
of rhetoric, parliamentary history
law, regulation or social statistics
of race class gender sexual preference
and/or religious persuasion.

i am not a businessman
a venture capitalist or CEO
i am not qualified to even really be writing this
i mean, i am no match for the smartest
whips in the hoodly Dudley.

Just a voice in the wilderness
many miles away drifting over in
rain and cloud foggy mist.

Just pretty pissed.
Drunk and angry, beligerent
pissed off and ready to rant
ready to chant

Not my monkey, not my circus
not my town not my people
think for yourself!
but please, remember the others

you are my others
unknown readers
seeders and DJs
here to address Dudley
snap elections 2017.

My platform,
Boots chemistry
and brain training
to know a platitude
spot a lie
wouldn't hurt a sky

to the fly with the utopian
verse, out with the curse
bloody hell the dull numbing
fat of purple feeble old
can't read
anybody elses opinion

Tories led to the farmyard
for some trough questions
nom nom nom nom
intelligent so should know better

Labour candidates
kidnapped and played
Slavoj Zizek lectures on repeat
until Hegel, Lacan
Stirner and Nietzsche are
firmly imprinted and understood

oh fuck it
better of just randomly
picking a name out of a hat
to find a trusted leader in these times
an accidental chance gardener
maybe what we

reqire but we'll
get the animal swill
the same animals driven
by consumption
blind to structure
same fat different glasse
you dig?

here's what led me to this
i wanted to write on the Dudley
snap election.

And i looked online and snap.
My first impression:
how much money did the Tories
pay for that headline?

then the penny dropped
they own all the fucking newspapers
stourbridge news, halesowen news,

2nd largest
newspaper distributer
parented by Gannet media in Virginia!

so make Dudley great again
create a free and independent press
get rid of the adverts
that pop up when reading
a friends obituary

and check yo' letters
more carefully for
hate groups and racist comments
moderate better.

And those linked news stories,
like the one about the ex-copper
who quit to lap dance
how are they generated!
by what algorithm

so i don't like the policy
so i try and brake the foundation
call conspiracy between media
corporations, generally biased toward
the right leaning friendly capitalists

the ideological moral cowards
the moral cowards
the moral cowards
the moral cowards

so, you have the intelligence
at those wrinkled fingertips
all the history books,
all the social data,
but what about the psychology
the magic, the art
got any of that?

Not to tease you
my imaginary political nemesis
but the nitty gritty for me revolves
around the questions of identity
individual and national
soveriegn and narrative
spiritual and dialectically material
let us play
let us say

and on policy?
my turn, what would i do what did i learn?
not to turn the other cheek,
not to insult the weak
to leak or not to leak
security and insecurity
Otis Redding

and if you can't achieve tolerance
at least attempt some courtesy
have a heart
not just a way

Listen to those with a
balanced and clear voice
with a joy and love of knowledge
to pass on memorable phrases
dazzle with erudition
make fun
and invite interaction

Beware of the bores
the predictable, low
information content
content with status quo
standing together
better together together
stronger standing better
jobs standing
jobs better standing together

how can this writing change anything
scroll on fascists!
kidding, just scroll on...

and more of this emo tone
drone of moan moan moan
if you don't vote you can't complain
don't moan cuz' you don't vote
this is art moan,

a loan moan, a road groan from a lone crone,
a sewed comb to a thigh bone to a cell phone
key drone driveless driveby shooting of tony
tooting the great floating captain puss in bootin'
snooty toot footy but handy sandy shandy swillin'
top billin' acrillin more than your zillion up late tillin'
culture by the chin of flax, vinyl by stacks by the wax
sleeping in the cracks calculating tax on rish and poor
move over don't snore, you hear, get up, get up.
there's work to be done.

think it through
check the policy follow
yourself into narrative identity
labyrinth and find your future
entangled self embattered
to the saucepan-
-aromicon picture

rock the hobby horse
and roll with the leaf
I think Shakespeare smoked a
tidy pipe, and maybe huffed
hashish shish.

excuse me,
i mean i don't hate these
animals i pity them,
oh and i am an animal too
i also have these desires
you can read all about em'
but i don't go forcing my
politics on people

and other ideas beyond the
political sphere of debate
social credit
block chain systems
drug reform
mental health reform
land and property reform
in ways not yet detailed in
any plans from the contenders

imagination is the key
have the vision,
like merry hill,
with no shops, just free food
and relaxation areas,
workshops, open theater
open free bustling with people

--Steve Fly

Steve Fly 33.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

More of the words - rhyme time

And to the next verse my mouth changes curse
Pulling on the purse putting bling on reverse
Flow on the box, throwing old hot-rocked socks
Time stole from clocks, door opened after-knocks
Keep it on the the tip caught falling from the nip
Nap it in the sack, pull it back, quick crossing
While teeth are chewin' my hands are busy flossing
Lead your mind code green to the crossing
No fussing

Leave the crowd buzzing, nuzzle the nozzle of nuff singing
Rhyme slinging fit for a freak for week fresh off the beak
Click and cast the best breath i got left
Laughed at the Po, they don't know my mind awake aglow
Igloomy friday snaps in between naps
Tetrahydrocannibonol on caps
Full to the top of words cut the crop
You flip i flop, verbs don't stop with herbs on top
Fight the slop with little bits of class
Come run the riddim' track get off your ass.

Walk take a stroll keep the heart in control
Tap and turf with your toe and see what seeds you sew
Minds we must blow
Pickin up the bass line over it we go.

Moving it shifting it lifting it grafting it crafting it
Cracking it hacking it smacking it checking it wrecking it
Waxing it taxing it flexing it vexing it sexing it
Here a little words for the bread boy crew
Raised in an oven dish next to a zoo
What you gonna’ do, you talk like the flu
Pop it in a trash bag and float it down the loo
He be getting hype with a top lip on the mic
Me holding it down with a staple and a spike
Running down the path heading to the math
Stopped at the cafe and laughed at the graff'
Methymetic took me by surprise, eyebrow rise
Fighting off flies making nests in my eyes

Now Now
Wake up with cup of crystal clear
No added sugar and nothing like beer
Wake up with a cup and drink it down quick
Wake up to the taste of a stimulating drink
Kick up the sheets and smash in the pillow
Feel the effect of the music soft and mellow
Hug the next fellow then dance to the beat
Move every bone inside from hands to your feet
Step into the mayhem walk the streets tall
Run and crawl swim and fly, beware the shopping mall

I cried walk on the sidewalk to the board-walk to talk
The incredible help from the paper and felt pen in my belt
like a misspelled crowd i screamed aloud, “allowed?”
Aloud be thy name, and thy bass beat drum
For ever and never, forever turningly yours, pot jaws.
Avoid all the laws and riffle through draws with my paws
No pause for applause the show’s top shelf because

The T to the A to the L to the E
To The O to the F to the T.H.E
To the T to the R to the I.B.E

Pick lock with epic keys key to cryptography these
Jumping like fleas in the ‘globillage’ buzzing like bees
Who can write the tale from bigending to startish

Include all history, language and shine like starfish?
How to lift such a sculpture into the light of day

Hang it all, hang it all again, hang it your way
Times cycling from Nero to Trump
The news and reality fuck off with a bump

Stumped by the weight the blazing fire and death
The Mourning of the planet, the people, the culture
Dying every day, dying to survive, stop the car, stop
I don’t drive, i walk to feel alive, count each blessing
Each day passing do you know how many would…
Confessin my blues strive for news that stays news
Truth from the hoof under guise of aloof, gone, poof, proof
All under one roof, one tale one story,
The one about revenge as Homeric tragic-comedy

Keep it short, play love and beat the sport
Sport the beat and look after dem’ feet
Treat the world to a massage and a peek behind your mirage
A rustle under your bed and sweep through your dad’s garage
If you get hip hope is nosebleed, love seed is all you need

tire not be strong like bamboo baby, like hurricane and
Tsunami, be strong and resistant be the weather and earth
Walk high in ancestors boots and watch the turf
Learn the local ways and be the midwife to the rebirth
Into cool dive swim and float up to school

Faster and faster dem flippers keep flappin’
Talk wit’ lots of syllables for fatter fly chattin’
Next up to bowl and use sonar for my battin’
Hit the ball up the wall well how about thatin’
Run to the hump and hope they miss catchin’
Grab your balls and count the bases
Keep on playing fair in all the different places
Traces of effort against the storm on faces
Cake is the place and the food can hold spaces

Baking the mind to find rhyme taking lead
Perhaps it would be better on coke or some speed

Words off the top in the improv tradition

Making things meet and greet like a tongue on a mission.
Each sentence a new chance to shed an inhibition
In the back of your minds lake i go eureaka fishin’
Splish splash in my pocket looking for a coin to the socket
Pull the lever and feed my inner beaver
Now its on like Eldridge Cleaver, you butter believer?

I chisel the page with a bless-up messing with a mic
Ride the airwaves like an eagle on a bike

Take up the story for the paint and the glory
Wake up snory, look up, it’s sporey

Let it come down and reach your inner clown
Prank on the bank and swank in front of the tank

Rise between the eyes, get up to the crown centre
Spitting each presenter straight to the implementer
To simplify i dream sky, purple cloud lions fist grasshopper
Found gods in the dropper blotter mind squeeze flutter
Bitter skate sympathy kick flipped to the gutter
Let me speak of the mutter and pray i don’t stutter

Boxing my way out of a cereal box i catch chicken pox
Coming home to roost, its the goose where’s my docs?
Flocking hell, what the coup, i think i’ll wing it with my nuggets
Abreast of the fowl act i packed snax in my sack of treats
Im waiting for you at the coffeeshop with beats
Maybe maybe baby don’t double drop, fill your seats
Come come come around
Come come come around

I pick up the saw and start cutting at tropes
Leap up to the rafters and attach a few ropes
Trip up the footnotes and trash each litter
I dream in the margins and breathe every comma
I hang off each line and add graphics to the para
The capital of each story, each word a puzzle shop
Symbols in the marketplace now put right to a stop.

--Steve Fly Agaric 23
Steve Fly 33.