Ray Johnson & Henry Darger are not BUTTERFLEAS
Ray Johnson is not butter
is not a flea
is not Henry Darger
is not HANK
if not. is not. shall not be
dipped in butter to
wither or flutter
or mutter a curse.
Now Henry Darger
not bitter. or butter. or fingers in
the door
not more of the same
not fleasome or tiresome or
weary of those games
Butter Fleas
Butter Fleas
is not a flea
is not Henry Darger
is not HANK
if not. is not. shall not be
dipped in butter to
wither or flutter
or mutter a curse.
Now Henry Darger
not bitter. or butter. or fingers in
the door
not more of the same
not fleasome or tiresome or
weary of those games
Butter Fleas
Butter Fleas
Someone's talking abi
Captain :
"Spock, do you think we can beam the Brim ?"S :
"And why don't you first zoom the Broom ? You idiot ..."
The Story Of the Choice...
Old One--sharing with friends here.
Crescendo-The Birth of the Choice.Choice.
One word. Two different directions. Small challenge for conscience. Between pain and less pain. First you dismiss it as trivia. You presume you can work around it. There is no respite for such false conjectures. You think you can succeed in escaping into fiction.But it only takes time to separate fact from forged.The escape seems almost effortless, until it slowly dawns upon you. It did not chase you instead you have chased yourself into it. What seemed a beautiful reality has been ruthlessly shattered by an ugly unreal. You want to hold onto something, but there are no planks in the mind. A culprit has to be desperately assembled now, painted with excuses and draped by emotions. A neurotic search is on for what was always yours but you never owned; your mind.Since it is silent you assume everything is fine, but you do not know silence does speak.Pleading for forgiveness you hear a faint voice, you wish it was someone’s; sadly it is your own. The growing voice tells you that the world has betrayed the morality of truth and laughed at your misery. Amidst this terrible pain of chaos you start feeling it but you are not sure what within you feels it. The feeling unfolds from the void of within building slowly inch by inch into an unbearable force, an impulse, a choice.
Decrescendo-The Death of the Choice.
An overwhelming initiation takes over your entire being directing all conflicts into a state of logic which looks absurd then. Yet it makes complete sense because you badly wanted this and this can arise from absolute chaos not order. Now the ego can be trusted to build on this denomination and beat a slow retreat from self. Well secured you deduce that the universe is a silly joke that nobody wants to laugh at. There is no other truth higher than this you scream at the top of your lungs. Laughter abounds now, not at the universe but at you, you have become the joke. You search around to find a face that laughed but the universe is faceless. You recede to check your premises, but all appears quiet on your front. To catch a glimpse of any heaven you must kiss death first. Your weakened conscious is a danger to itself and to others. Your memory is dementing but your choice remembers the universe. Some of it remembers you, some of it doesn’t. Consequence is the final installment of that choice. You will die now with your choices. The choice did not fail you. It has fulfilled its purpose. You now comprehend it. Another simple game. New universe. Counterchoice. Choice.
~If gone unnoticed, the first para comprises sentences carrying one extra word than the preceding ones while the second para is a tone down completing the harmony of the paradox.
Crescendo-The Birth of the Choice.Choice.
One word. Two different directions. Small challenge for conscience. Between pain and less pain. First you dismiss it as trivia. You presume you can work around it. There is no respite for such false conjectures. You think you can succeed in escaping into fiction.But it only takes time to separate fact from forged.The escape seems almost effortless, until it slowly dawns upon you. It did not chase you instead you have chased yourself into it. What seemed a beautiful reality has been ruthlessly shattered by an ugly unreal. You want to hold onto something, but there are no planks in the mind. A culprit has to be desperately assembled now, painted with excuses and draped by emotions. A neurotic search is on for what was always yours but you never owned; your mind.Since it is silent you assume everything is fine, but you do not know silence does speak.Pleading for forgiveness you hear a faint voice, you wish it was someone’s; sadly it is your own. The growing voice tells you that the world has betrayed the morality of truth and laughed at your misery. Amidst this terrible pain of chaos you start feeling it but you are not sure what within you feels it. The feeling unfolds from the void of within building slowly inch by inch into an unbearable force, an impulse, a choice.
Decrescendo-The Death of the Choice.
An overwhelming initiation takes over your entire being directing all conflicts into a state of logic which looks absurd then. Yet it makes complete sense because you badly wanted this and this can arise from absolute chaos not order. Now the ego can be trusted to build on this denomination and beat a slow retreat from self. Well secured you deduce that the universe is a silly joke that nobody wants to laugh at. There is no other truth higher than this you scream at the top of your lungs. Laughter abounds now, not at the universe but at you, you have become the joke. You search around to find a face that laughed but the universe is faceless. You recede to check your premises, but all appears quiet on your front. To catch a glimpse of any heaven you must kiss death first. Your weakened conscious is a danger to itself and to others. Your memory is dementing but your choice remembers the universe. Some of it remembers you, some of it doesn’t. Consequence is the final installment of that choice. You will die now with your choices. The choice did not fail you. It has fulfilled its purpose. You now comprehend it. Another simple game. New universe. Counterchoice. Choice.
~If gone unnoticed, the first para comprises sentences carrying one extra word than the preceding ones while the second para is a tone down completing the harmony of the paradox.
Lindsay Lohan Insults the Plural of Apocalypse
Because Tom Cruise wades in
and catches Joan Houlihan by the ear
I don't read a lot of good worthy grownup books
a movie about John Lennon
starring Lindsay Lohan and Jared Leto
is rapidly transforming everyone’s
economic possibilities everywhere
“It's so ubiquitous" said Joan Houlihan
with a deadly weapon after she allegedly
rammed actress Lindsay Lohan
Mommy tells me it may rain today
Oh Yucky Dee Doo super-low
chug-a-chug Joan Houlihan just finished
shooting an episode of Saved by the Bell
The Doggy Doo Wagon is committed
to providing a high quality service
during Lindsay Lohan fever dreams
Lindsay Lohan shall cut off her head
and fill her mouth with garlic
And Lindsay Lohan to Joan Houlihan:
"Poet, Lindsay Lohan thee entreat”
Lindsay Lohan may see Joan Houlihan,
And those she makest so disconsolate
Then Joan Houlihan moves on
and Lindsay Lohan behind her follows
and catches Joan Houlihan by the ear
I don't read a lot of good worthy grownup books
a movie about John Lennon
starring Lindsay Lohan and Jared Leto
is rapidly transforming everyone’s
economic possibilities everywhere
“It's so ubiquitous" said Joan Houlihan
with a deadly weapon after she allegedly
rammed actress Lindsay Lohan
Mommy tells me it may rain today
Oh Yucky Dee Doo super-low
chug-a-chug Joan Houlihan just finished
shooting an episode of Saved by the Bell
The Doggy Doo Wagon is committed
to providing a high quality service
during Lindsay Lohan fever dreams
Lindsay Lohan shall cut off her head
and fill her mouth with garlic
And Lindsay Lohan to Joan Houlihan:
"Poet, Lindsay Lohan thee entreat”
Lindsay Lohan may see Joan Houlihan,
And those she makest so disconsolate
Then Joan Houlihan moves on
and Lindsay Lohan behind her follows
push
I came to earth
In search for Death
My brethren all gathered to give me a -
Push(n)
Some even said why not you jump -push (not much of a push)
I ran I RAN I RRRRRAN
…
there was nothing but air ]
-(there)
p
u
s
h
In search for Death
My brethren all gathered to give me a -
Push(n)
Some even said why not you jump -push (not much of a push)
I ran I RAN I RRRRRAN
…
there was nothing but air ]
-(there)
p
u
s
h
The Rest Area
Simon met Steve
With his trousers askew
Like a man who knew what he was doing
But not why.
Steve met Ray
At a time when neither of them
Could bear a trip to the States
But both had Business Class.
Ray met Charles
When they realised through laughing
That together they had soul
And one bad eye.
Charles met Richard
When Richard was fourteen
And employed by the News of the World
As a man catcher.
Richard met Dave
In the dock of the Harlow magistrates
Where Dave looked sheepish
But his breath smelled of goat.
Dave met Stu
With his ears to the wall,
His eyes to the ceiling
And his knees all damp.
Stu met Keith
As Keith got struck dumb
At the moment he pushed through the windscreen
And tried to change gears.
Keith met Robert
As Robert held his wrists
And timed a good 62 on his watch
And smiled like a slice of melon.
Robert met Alex
When Alex caught a thumb in a mincer
And told jokes about falling
Into electrical appliance shops
Alex met Pete
With his arm in a sling
And his face full of buboes
And a graphful of antigens.
Then Pete met Simon
Who met Steve
Who met Ray
Who lunched with Charles
Who met Richard
Who met Dave
Who laughed with Stu
Who met Keith
Who met Robert
Who grinned with Alex
As they started to work out the Maths.
pol - a Copula
pol
itics me off to say
that circumstantial evi (l)
densely popul
ated joes
to get the dish on jim
crow barred the win
dows were dirty cop
ulas
itics me off to say
that circumstantial evi (l)
densely popul
ated joes
to get the dish on jim
crow barred the win
dows were dirty cop
ulas
The Ace of Stars
jumping jackals invade the text
slugs hide between the lines
slugs hide between the lines
where's my dog whistle?
where's my container of salt?
where's my container of salt?
someone's been playing tricks again.
I looked under the bed,
behind the television set,
inside each & every soda can --
I looked under the bed,
behind the television set,
inside each & every soda can --
no whistle, no salt.
then I remembered that I'd
traded these items for a pack of
playing cards -- Bicycle brand,
but the backs were green instead
of the usual red or blue.
traded these items for a pack of
playing cards -- Bicycle brand,
but the backs were green instead
of the usual red or blue.
I examined the cards
& was surprised to find
that the kings, queens & jacks
were all photos of missing children,
instead of the standard monarchs.
& was surprised to find
that the kings, queens & jacks
were all photos of missing children,
instead of the standard monarchs.
I shuffled the deck & drew a card
at random. It was the Ace of Stars --
not the death card, something different.
at random. It was the Ace of Stars --
not the death card, something different.
I grabbed my telescope & looked up.
(first appeared at Bohème.)
after camp downer
we got wet and dirty and high then dry
and talked and watched and i plucked
your eyebrows and then........... i saw
you flicking channels and i wondered...
who are you???.
and talked and watched and i plucked
your eyebrows and then........... i saw
you flicking channels and i wondered...
who are you???.
timor mortis conturbat me
for robert vander molen
two swallows in india in love with their nest of this man’s home / so pissed at their shit on the porch
taptaptap
of gathering of building and rebuilding / in a fit he took a hose
sluiced the nest away / they grieved so that when the man heard
taptaptap
at his door found not a guest or a census-taker / but the swallows knocking their heads against the door
and become pulp
two swallows in india in love with their nest of this man’s home / so pissed at their shit on the porch
taptaptap
of gathering of building and rebuilding / in a fit he took a hose
sluiced the nest away / they grieved so that when the man heard
taptaptap
at his door found not a guest or a census-taker / but the swallows knocking their heads against the door
and become pulp
fragment #9
in the cellar the rats are
planning to overtake
the house.
constructing weapons from
the crumbs of our conversations
that have fallen through the
floor boards.
planning to overtake
the house.
constructing weapons from
the crumbs of our conversations
that have fallen through the
floor boards.
Status
Last update
since 1967
broom handled
on the cup
smell the aroma
of the grim brim
we took it
socks and all
ass cheeks and
ass dimples smile
for the fluttering
of long lashes
birds wings and
vampiric butterflies
take the mug
a stout drink
For the army
is coming back
from
the
brink
since 1967
broom handled
on the cup
smell the aroma
of the grim brim
we took it
socks and all
ass cheeks and
ass dimples smile
for the fluttering
of long lashes
birds wings and
vampiric butterflies
take the mug
a stout drink
For the army
is coming back
from
the
brink
When finding myself
the night
the hug
beyond the sleeplessness
the hug
the humidity
streets and turns
the humidity
the mouth
inside the room
the mouth
the rejection
divine emptyness
the rejection
the night
Bibiana
the night
the hug
beyond the sleeplessness
the hug
the humidity
streets and turns
the humidity
the mouth
inside the room
the mouth
the rejection
divine emptyness
the rejection
the night
Bibiana
Torre
The rooting apple tree apples rotting
on the wet Somerset earth, their pips dispersing.
It is that pressing time of the year,
when the apples are turned bitter.
The pewtering pulp fed to Cynthia and her Gloucester
old spots, her teat feeding the sucklers, their last meal.
Rolf rabbit clinching on to Flopsy's ears, fathering some little
fiddlers. Jasmin the goat with her coat, an old grey fleece
to keep her from the freeze.
Honey the curious goat looking
into the tea shop and its customers' chops,
Cynthia's labour from the year before. Crops
still long in the waiting, the harsh winter awaiting.
Love's labour's lost? Heart of the matter.
on the wet Somerset earth, their pips dispersing.
It is that pressing time of the year,
when the apples are turned bitter.
The pewtering pulp fed to Cynthia and her Gloucester
old spots, her teat feeding the sucklers, their last meal.
Rolf rabbit clinching on to Flopsy's ears, fathering some little
fiddlers. Jasmin the goat with her coat, an old grey fleece
to keep her from the freeze.
Honey the curious goat looking
into the tea shop and its customers' chops,
Cynthia's labour from the year before. Crops
still long in the waiting, the harsh winter awaiting.
Love's labour's lost? Heart of the matter.
Go-getter
Go-getter
I want to be a go-getter, time-ticking, button-pushing,
top-class-run-around bend-over-backwards type of guy.
Show them what I got, entertain being on top, offer
to Xerox twenty copies of the new project—
a five hundred page manuscript—“I’m on it!”
Get out the big guns, load the paper in tray one,
brew coffee when the pot is done, “I’m sorry,
I was having fun!” I like it here, I wish the job
wasn’t temporary—“Can I stay? Can I stay?”
Call the old editorial assistant, make time to meet
with him, ask for tips, play it cool. He has nothing
on you, but maybe the Development Editor is setting
you up—on a date? for demise? Stick used staples
in my eye. I’m one of two smokers in the department,
one of the best administrative assistants—the only one
with an office, the only one in existence. Come on people,
pile it on, I’m hot for databases, wild on the phone, eager
to record your personal days, and happy to see you go.
I want to be a go-getter, time-ticking, button-pushing,
top-class-run-around bend-over-backwards type of guy.
Show them what I got, entertain being on top, offer
to Xerox twenty copies of the new project—
a five hundred page manuscript—“I’m on it!”
Get out the big guns, load the paper in tray one,
brew coffee when the pot is done, “I’m sorry,
I was having fun!” I like it here, I wish the job
wasn’t temporary—“Can I stay? Can I stay?”
Call the old editorial assistant, make time to meet
with him, ask for tips, play it cool. He has nothing
on you, but maybe the Development Editor is setting
you up—on a date? for demise? Stick used staples
in my eye. I’m one of two smokers in the department,
one of the best administrative assistants—the only one
with an office, the only one in existence. Come on people,
pile it on, I’m hot for databases, wild on the phone, eager
to record your personal days, and happy to see you go.
Amniontrick Oniont
Tres imbris torti radios, tres nubis aquosæ
Addiderant; rutili tres ignis, et alitis austri:
Fulgores nunc terrificos, sonitumque, metumque
Miscebant operi, flammisque sequacibus iras.
“Three rays of twisted showers, three of watery clouds,
three of fire, and three of the winged south wind; then
mixed they in the work terrific lightnings, and sound, and
fear, and anger, with pursuing flames.”
-Virgil, The Aeneid
This strange composition is formed into a gross body;
it is hammered by the Cyclops, it is in part polished,
and partly continues rough.
-Edmund Burke, On the Sublime and Beautiful.
Let us compare the image of Prince Namor to that of Doctor Spock.
Let us compare Virgil's Cave of Vulcan to Human Culture.
Let us compare the nucleated cell to the structure of an idea.
Let us compare the Sublime to Electromagnetism.
Let us compare Subjective Will to Objective Force.
Let us compare vision to hearing.
Let us compare the origin and the end of theory.
Let us compare Nature to Nature, Rhyme to Rim.
Let us compare image to text, and Iconology to Ideology.
Let us Compare Youth to Spontaneity, and Age to Inertia.
Let us compare Nothing.
Let us repair Forever the Injustices which are Born of Comparisons.
Let us be thankful for the Comparisons which have led us to this Forking.
Let us compare Ourselves to an unspeakable Form.
Let us compare Form to Time.
Let us compare Knowledge to Space, and Decision to Danger.
Let us compare Action to Prayer, and Prayer to Questioning.
Lettuce Golem gesticulates, comparing the imaginal
to the real, the real to the non-existent,
the absent to the presence of mind which must
forever compare, repairing to the cave
of Vulcan wherefore once again logic
may be conjoined to passion, to compassion
and the comparisoned implicities of explicit
comparisons.
Addiderant; rutili tres ignis, et alitis austri:
Fulgores nunc terrificos, sonitumque, metumque
Miscebant operi, flammisque sequacibus iras.
“Three rays of twisted showers, three of watery clouds,
three of fire, and three of the winged south wind; then
mixed they in the work terrific lightnings, and sound, and
fear, and anger, with pursuing flames.”
-Virgil, The Aeneid
This strange composition is formed into a gross body;
it is hammered by the Cyclops, it is in part polished,
and partly continues rough.
-Edmund Burke, On the Sublime and Beautiful.
Let us compare the image of Prince Namor to that of Doctor Spock.
Let us compare Virgil's Cave of Vulcan to Human Culture.
Let us compare the nucleated cell to the structure of an idea.
Let us compare the Sublime to Electromagnetism.
Let us compare Subjective Will to Objective Force.
Let us compare vision to hearing.
Let us compare the origin and the end of theory.
Let us compare Nature to Nature, Rhyme to Rim.
Let us compare image to text, and Iconology to Ideology.
Let us Compare Youth to Spontaneity, and Age to Inertia.
Let us compare Nothing.
Let us repair Forever the Injustices which are Born of Comparisons.
Let us be thankful for the Comparisons which have led us to this Forking.
Let us compare Ourselves to an unspeakable Form.
Let us compare Form to Time.
Let us compare Knowledge to Space, and Decision to Danger.
Let us compare Action to Prayer, and Prayer to Questioning.
Lettuce Golem gesticulates, comparing the imaginal
to the real, the real to the non-existent,
the absent to the presence of mind which must
forever compare, repairing to the cave
of Vulcan wherefore once again logic
may be conjoined to passion, to compassion
and the comparisoned implicities of explicit
comparisons.
OOps, I'm happy again !
Tell me :
1-What do you need to feel happy ?
(example : "I need to stick two fingers into a 220 V plug." "I just have to look at a tiny little puppy" ...)
2-How does your happiness express itself ?
(example : " I smile like the dumbest retarded to everyone I cross." "I wistle Smell like Teen Spirit all day long, just a tune over.")
Feel free to TELL ME (Q 1&2)
1-What do you need to feel happy ?
(example : "I need to stick two fingers into a 220 V plug." "I just have to look at a tiny little puppy" ...)
2-How does your happiness express itself ?
(example : " I smile like the dumbest retarded to everyone I cross." "I wistle Smell like Teen Spirit all day long, just a tune over.")
Feel free to TELL ME (Q 1&2)
straddling my sting
slipped out the Marlboro
shorts from the dresser
straddling my sting
ray orange
county chopper
limited edition
Schwinn
motor roaring
from the por
table whine
of the
speaker
clinging for life
the only drag
that gets sweeter
laughing at the man
in the moon
him for Halloween?
won't everyone flip!
the handlebars
and my
what a way to ash
aimed to think deeper
shorts from the dresser
straddling my sting
ray orange
county chopper
limited edition
Schwinn
motor roaring
from the por
table whine
of the
speaker
clinging for life
the only drag
that gets sweeter
laughing at the man
in the moon
him for Halloween?
won't everyone flip!
the handlebars
and my
what a way to ash
aimed to think deeper
necessary as starting up, old mountain
when we become statues, we think of the sardonic wind (note: me serious song parody), the varied deep of cold (note: written for the consumer), and all the measures by which something goes into dust (note: being pulled into the star).
our statues thrive as worse than forgotten (note: risk arrest at the hospital).
our particulars include LEAVING CITIZENSHIP BEHIND (note: some random bits scribbled), leaving English learners, leaving Lee Ann Womack at Wal-Mart, leaving behind their brightest, leaving behind emergency numbers, leaving behind the Wealth of Life, quickly leaving pacifism behind threats?
I ask this question because there really wasn't much.
resources include tested marketing ideas, international events.
inside that mound of snow, Exactly Someone, who is busy with death. great story filled with seasons, yet again. Exactly Someone as one who could be populated, someday, just like any abbreviation.
we've seen a uselessness of degrees.
Tibet holds annual session of people, holds Anti-Cult, holds third secret protection, holds beauty pageant for tourist, holds Poetry Session, holds Japanese Children's Art, holds a horse, holds a special place in the 32.
tidal China noticed.
the mountain slid facets of light into the trouble of future. this couldn't be hid.
finally, inane behaviour: jabbering wastelands give Turbine Flare.
our statues thrive as worse than forgotten (note: risk arrest at the hospital).
our particulars include LEAVING CITIZENSHIP BEHIND (note: some random bits scribbled), leaving English learners, leaving Lee Ann Womack at Wal-Mart, leaving behind their brightest, leaving behind emergency numbers, leaving behind the Wealth of Life, quickly leaving pacifism behind threats?
I ask this question because there really wasn't much.
resources include tested marketing ideas, international events.
inside that mound of snow, Exactly Someone, who is busy with death. great story filled with seasons, yet again. Exactly Someone as one who could be populated, someday, just like any abbreviation.
we've seen a uselessness of degrees.
Tibet holds annual session of people, holds Anti-Cult, holds third secret protection, holds beauty pageant for tourist, holds Poetry Session, holds Japanese Children's Art, holds a horse, holds a special place in the 32.
tidal China noticed.
the mountain slid facets of light into the trouble of future. this couldn't be hid.
finally, inane behaviour: jabbering wastelands give Turbine Flare.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)