Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Wired Word World










Greytings everybody. The face of type under review By fly.
What's left to write tonight, read?
What is left to sift and lift?

Disturbance of writing, what is it. Who are you?
Patterm, speech jagged
Rocks here, watch yerself. So do it!
Spezzata in the tongues road.
Self Published, blogged over 4 years.

Swimming in a word of Peace.

Just simple swimming? when can children swim these days?
Forget about indoor pools for a moment now, and children.
What of swimming free in the rivers, lakes, oceans
Everybody and humanity, free swimming

In the urban environment
Hidden hands of urban redevelopment, take away.
And private sector movements destroy bit by bit
We swimmers should not lose sight
Of our future world environment, without the dinosaurs running mad off with our cash

Access to clean water, and a choice to add Flouride or not to add flouride.
Water to drink,
Water to wash with and to Water to
Swim in.

Water full of nutrients and life, a biological swimming facilitiy –
A reproductive and REAL lagoon with fish,
Plants and an living ecosystem.

In varying scale's of magnitude, self published message of word
To all the graffical wizards, to all friends, players, imagineers!

Humanity can realise paradise
Ancient models of Chinese, Indian, Greek and Roman
Use of waterways floated great social functions.
I have often composed verse and prose about
Swimming in the canal, or the cut,

In and around the Black Country
And especially in the river Amstour!
in jest at first but now things are serious, WORD!
All mountains, cloud bursts, berries and flora
Shrooms, insects, bacteria and birds
NOW! WORD and new language SING!

What fair and sporting activity of sport, word?
The sportsmanship of playing a fair game, printing press.
A good game, a sporting game

Everything you got, your all in your sporting worship!
Opposed to SPORT the name tag of some minister, a minister of SPORT!
Or as a section of the most unsporting of entities – the tabloid NEWSPAPER,
Or a sports magazine, or T.V station.
What sport? what game? Rule makers and breakers and
Sport SPONSORS! Advert subverts are us!
Get on the bus.

Yes, i like good competition and a good game, word. Play.
The spirit of play lies at the heart of healthy economic
Strategy, philosophy and
Some poetry lie at the bottom of purple waterfalls
Tears running blind
Grapes and meat and all music wind!
Sing a song while doing the activity. Juice'd On It.

Immersive cursive environment,
What language precision Alfred?
The given activity drying up already,
No lagoon, no wetness, no horse no moustache'
Not even a foot bath,
A soggy idea about how to distribute the things
Survival tickets, share abundance

Make and break the rules for a few of the elite
Authorities in whatever water-world we’re floating in.

Forget about saving the old swimming baths of England,
Start planning your own bath and swimming facility. DIY dude.
Imagine them, a fresh natural water-world paradise,
Imagengine them....
without Kevin Cosner...With YOU!
Draw, sculpt and sew them, show them
Model the environment, animate bigger larger and share your work.

We must paint our utopias and write our dreams and footnotes to the image.
The Art game can capture sports
in a way the news game cannot, i rekon.
The music game captures hearts in a way writing
Dream of.

Together we stir the components up
Cast our knowledge far and wide and show HOW TO.
Cast your visions for a new past present future.
Surprises wrapped around every lampost,
Posted light and posted time awaiting
Express and stirring news, sterling silver
Birch tree me.

Steering sentences into places

A horse-race of letters
Jockey of jabberwockey, keys two the stable.
Balance. Equation and mathematical system.
Measuring courses for Ostriches by the feather
Weight. Heart of solid steel, no, of gold per minute.

A heart of rock-stone?
A heart full of blood and pumps,
A heart of pulses and waltzes wid' riddim'

Heart and head laid down snug.
Head and heart beating, bleeding words that got sentenced.
Tears running blind.
Alphabetty shackled the soul aboard to the jetty,
Waves mirrored in a close shave with sea foam this morning.

Phone home and away i went travelling the telegraph
Looking for clues, sense and love
In monologue, leading to the chapel perilous bog.

Cogs and wheels within’ circles of green red and blue
Bones of past people’s psychedelic particulars
As lentickle - your ears - through lenses of grit
Measured in LIGHT years. Weigh....

No moaning
New colour contour leads the wire forrest
Freakeys out to new worlds, Word write, for pools
Inhabiting spaces and places not faces, so much,

Must write them out, write them way out, off -if possible.
Write them off and turn them on, drop them out
Dial some solid state entity up, boil a cup of broth,
Add dust mite and moth to make mothers brew,
A glossing tossed in pan of pun with butter rake.

Splurge splatter letter after letter after letterout of alphabet land.
Chase the picture and the landscape
CHase them and their actions out out out of reality
Skip the nouns and hijack the verbs.

Big up the verbs of all walkways about them,
The spunky turning ones of no fixed address,
Nomadic tribes folk of letters, littering streets
Fighting BACK with symbol sigil magick

The moving semiotic train,
The moving bus and car, rust, tracks, carriage to carry
The trip trail of a broken language
Migrating letters into sense like peanut butter and jello'
And running words down the cheecks
Ripping context and wind blown full stops to steps ahead.

Null stops going forward to reverse position
Exercise the transition from high view
Twisting word rollings out, DNA RNA spiral ice cream
Lime and strawberry build up of pastry forms
The old glue globlets - more tears
Binding molecules of doe, ray, me so far the tale has sun
Baked itself phrases melted down through the ages

Say CHEESE! gloopy goos of the great
Old ones returning, returning the flavour in each wave.
The life and death march backward,
Be bop lifts language into cypher
JAZZ cypher

Out of ages into history factory production line,
History formed and stamped, shaped and packaged,
In a blistery bucket of swamp gas.

Distributed by time and space agents
Like Burroughs Said
Like clive and tracy, graggy laced Lenny said
Like spaz and rave sang of
You see the surprise on my face.
They stole it, my culture and youth
But these words are ours now, mutated

As i lean down to tie my lace
i get my finger looped in the ribbon of shoe,
My tongue starts talking and before you know it
I'm running out my socks

My tongue got a hold of my soul via my friends help.
And laced up the tale of the toe.
So now, a few minutes of passed and i feel glassed in the head
Amidst the mist of literal twist,
Mint rust and apple pudding - embankment.
Swample flavour

Sweet snowflake, and pattern to distinguish
The individual spelling.
Water language droppings of black specks. WORD!
Back to flows. Big waves and particle fizz.
Foam and lappings.
Trappings of the pre-fix shrimp, the very and the more,
Good, bad and rhetoric. Sea food, waves, salt and tears.

Veins upon the trees shirt
Strike me down dead in the park.
I confess nothing. Self publish
Disturbance and journey to the centre,

To keep moving and styling the phone.
Phonetic E.T’s are home.
What is to come after the transtime event?
Day out of, or day INN TIME?

Before the end of history?
Better go and do a crossword puzzle or something
Avoid the void and bliss the woid,
And balance yourself, on the edge.

What black and white picture show,
Just alphabet whatcha showin'
A full sharp shooter full of hooter polluter

Flat space and spiral earth.
Head and non-head perceptions.
Write off the cuff, and on the bluff side of the loon.

No delete delete. No more wrongs with delete and edit.
Moving feet are dancing again, get up you fucker.
NOW, or just keep on dancing barefoot in the mud
To strike the MOOD for it to trickle rain. Crisp
A wetness of image dryed up, wrinkled old alphabetty.

Formation dispanded by rubbers and ink-delete pens of mass destruction. Not in more than 12 months have i pumped up my staright backtype to attempt a trapeze poem of sleeze on the fly. How high the moon, how low the vault? Light and sound pulses chatter on top of the surface of any lake you like, waves waves and waves again, never folding waves, always fighting the waves and partying with particles, making light of it all. Shed light on it and hope more of - it all - comes to mind. Kisstory. Misty eared. No rap, but feedbacks.

Rap and music. Word-code and air farts seem words apart. Apples turning over adams applecart on linneaus straat. Identifiction and the visscitudes and multiplexy glass looking class-room. Freedom to roam without sentence law. Rhyme and sense for added spice grinders. No fear of the mis-readings of free bleeding of sense data. From a key-build world of distrubance, dance and good solid meal lies, a good soft meal, solid? I sribble for a bad soft meal, a flabby saft salted peanut walk in the park. An orchestral doobie in the dark. No excuse for the digression, my passion awaits trial, selector be my witness, the ground has swollen up like a bumble bee banquet on the balls. Relief from the angles, the ground corners and shaved sides of whats SQUARE. No squares aloud. Still scratching to try and match the hue hatcher of legend untold. In the days of wildfires, child-locks and adult safety checking accounts the accountable are unable to numerically factor the figures in line with the diggers who place daggers in the heart and cripple the face muscles with the squints and turn us into glimpses Mick Jagger. Like a saucepun i can’t handle it.

Spilling mistakes my steaks. Thrilling the gates open with fling-a-ling songs and a scavengers desire for a trash palace of the linguage centres, behind the middle grounds of normalford manner, more junk talk, and with a squark and a gobble, gutteral punk, literal junk talk of coca cola and antagonisms, jimpsun weed and spleen reconstructive drama. Clean slate and dirty jokes chopped like carrots on marble. Table top to bottom drawer there, i saw a paragraph swinging out the margins of blank. A paragraph dressed in camal-flange and chlorinated. Red betwenen the lights, blue between the sheets and green between the teeth. And the doors are open, i was hoping this would come over last summer or before that, with the wine and rose bud days but no. Never till now, till now, the paragraph comes leaping out from beyond the RULE. Drawing the lines and boundaries of space to fill with free fuzz and buzz, flapping and side-strokes, small wriggle movements and darts to all directions, quarkes and get set. Rumble of trumpet cases in the trunk, funk band on the road, setting off, the words setting sail and finding and window of wind-go.

Faster sharps and flats recursive recorso distrubance. Royal disturbance and slippery foot turns on the oil perturbances scattered in these skits and bits of rhyme glue. A large sprawling array of how i say it. Nothing in particular just stretching our vernacular wires and antenna out to reach Dracula and Cinema veritae’

The reel snapped yonks ago so now the verb plays out up in the backside of the groove the verb echos the future spaces and past places of outer-crash wave, bounce. To polish the stones they abolish and throw them like snowmen and their balls through walls of debt brick and steel, through air glass shafts of crippled overtones and harmonic shake ups.

To shake the sky into order and put the starts on the musical stave. Unyour wobbling pivot to measure the class of word-sound honour and the family of whynotwhats and whofortonowwhens - the information that binds the jumble of crumbled noun. Music to unite the crowning glory of story and tale to leave and bright silken routes to follow, pick up, and thread into the inklish boots, laced footwear taken me hostage once agin, on a plane to ubuntu, the words pulling from just aroud a blind corner, the sound of the sentence directs the destiny, but to tackle the rhyme with fix-it substances, and sew up the pristine package for friends and etyms, taking control of roll and reuniting it with rock in a solid foundation. fli-flow go on goo on - blu nose of knowls out your assets. Finger mouse creeping under the cat glove in the kitchen - seems to be pushing the limits of sensible writing and shows the down side to freedom of thought and speech, a child’s TV show and a Ikea oven glove fused. Like a spark plug in the mouth, the lights are tangy tonight.

Crevices and dried up entrances to places only a spider could have known have fell into my scripture, visitors from next door, visitors from across the way, the river side has turned into the water-cider in a drunken tantrum of descriptive lenses. From one side the bath looks opel, from the other coral. The mantra of fish might make for a useful wish in a whales bellyfull of tele-tummy touch table tops. Cable cuts and splices, PING. Crossed wires and fancy foundations of frankly - far and away - flipped fakery.

All word comes to this and that, eventually the fuel fails to follow the road and the journey comes to a hault, not mine or yours or anybosy elses but the felt tip feels full and bloated, the felt tip of my finger on this bastard keys,

Wishing they were LP’s.
Letting the wind-up speak.
Letting the rumble wired srew
Wheels within gyres within disks.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009


Flie Flu and the red white spotted death

DELL and the Police are going into business. Lord Carter, CAW CAW CAW Digital Government Business! As Ezra Pound wrote “Who distributes it, how”
Information! D.I.G.I.T.A.L - ambiguous like Claude Shannon, Roni Size and NTL.

Digital ways to extend the reach and accuracy of killingry, weaponry, and disinformation Warfare. Digital Warfare. Urban. All pervasive information warfare. Digital Analogue. Pirates fight like Samauri or Ronin – lone rangers, discordian immortals, drunken, always On. NO more cyberlaws and restrictions and government interference. How can we trust The Government men and women, who have hindered, blocked, slowed down and trickled down Information. Lying, stealing and cheating their way into positions of government, Using and abusing Government status to further private interests, telecommunications Banking, Arms and pharma – all wrapped up in a giant syringe, the ultra junky.gov Power, control and distribution mixed in a toxic cocktail, a red hot Heroin hit in the eyeball.

Fuckin' DELL! Lord! and the Forensic Police and curse you and your total information awareness program. Lordy, Lordy Lordy, would you look at that! What of Lord Carter and the Brunswick Group – EMI, B.P, British Airways and B.T Group? No Shit, he worked for NTL on broadband police work, and even went to Harvard And what of OFCOM and what of NTL? Why would the people of Great Britain, Or anywhere take any of the Digital Britain report seriously, just glancing at Lord Carter’s file? Have we just witnessed an attempted U.S style telecommunications coo by the info-Tzar?

The RIAA, the British Government and DELL are all making threats to the consumer. And the sick sound of suited monkeys talking about Digital Knowledge and Culture. The Tzarist Occupation government is passing judgement on video games and Cannabis The Government that sent the entire British culture and economy into illegal war Bowing to the commands from Washington, and wasting Trillions of public Pounds wants Us to take them seriously when proposing we trust them to distribute our digital information What Government Tzar? Of what secret order, what rank, can ordain the mighty information? EVERYTHING can be thought of as information, and information permeates everything everyware. All this talk of pirates and nobody mentions the great Pirates, as Buckminster Fuller calls them, The sea-faring, robber-barrons of industry and technology who stole our collective cultural Inheritance and sold it to the highest bidder – Sony, General Motors, Universal-Vivendi, Monsanto, J.P Morgan, NTL, and on and on, just read the paper, see the stocks and bonds – the great LOOT! Ministry of Information.

As Minister for Communications, Technology and Broadcasting in the U.K Government Lord Carter Might have read Finnegans Wake by James Joyce, easily the greatest broadband network poem. Or maybe not, maybe he reads white papers on current DARPA research, police forensics etc. I speculate that he does, and this worries me, as a consumer and artists and as a poet i must sing.