... what .. is


what is a blog?  i keep asking myself
                               (myself asking is yourself pleading?
                                                   what's pleading lover  )
   is it your body? is your body a blog the image of your face grain image of your face is
   your body blog?  as the circus virtual becomes symphonic
                        and the poems more real
 the test more virtual

              learning to breath


reistting reisiting blue you




--------------------------------- shes

 blue dog shes blue dog shes blue dog

 shes blue dog shes blue dog 

she blue dog shes blue do shes blue d 

shes blue shes lue 

shes blue

                 shes ue shes ue she's ue shes ue -

-------------------------------------- re vel a ti ion ary  body  


__________  is  a  song of tryst                                                           an parts


they ... paint



  they want her to paint love
    paint her instead
   her stately (steady) head
a  genius blossoming

   lissome close to a word standing by precipice
into the desire of her crack fall
 what sense is that against the cloud
a  broad mystery for making pears


works in one plato Form not the other



      her page / performative/ form

 what was that line of guattari's about masterpieces and none left?
      easy to speak in fragments
   pieces of broken rock

  beads/ and bears
  for her honey
   to her tears
  her table of contents
  a perfect self publishing beauty


dada said more about poetry
than holding on 


its Knot


                                its knot easy to have a  body
  or a  line of verse  stanza
  breaking the neck
of wounded womb
of here song 


 or om
 imagining   meeting across

minds transforming 
to one who's already been your
yours belonged to you




how do i grab ahold of her papers
     an put them in my body?
   as if a host
                  mine to hers singing 


.. admire and


  I admire everything she does  __ even when I differ ______________

  a  rare talent flies through the air


______________ it's there that talent giving and receiving
             _________________ a  poem standing on the edge of  a wood
                      ________________a heart break calling it matter 


  this note's scribbled   

  this note's scribbled   

  this note's scribbled   

  this note's scribbled  

 across here skin her eyes her hair
                                                             those words of hers arching through the air

|||||| even though your neck's   sore  /it's broken
  as any word hanging  from a mouth
    how do you write a word?
  a mouth 
     moults between each caring lust?
   it's   virtual   craning 
         between her lap  and heart beat
       heart beats beats heat beats between down the street

a collage cage
 caught between all the feet

____________ is there  a pefect  being for admiration?



perhaps you were too .... as love is a body hidden in secret doors/clandestine nights/ grabbing switches . rocking sticks, gendered bases of love , end comma, end comma,




perhaps you were too quick, too harsh, my love

reading this  'mani festo' but what body is spoken

through the darkness of light?

a sill with wind at  its heart


                   |||||||||| Is there a mother to a text?

a father, a sister  lover brother malefemale? the one who's a man is  a body singing at her breast the long gone horn of its trellis.

||||||||||||||||||||||||  a , amI festo is a festival of her brightlights.





franco beradi 's worthless  manifesto which being a feeble attempt to rewrite the original Futurist manifesto reveals itself to be  of No use at All so

it has been crossed thru

1. We want to sing of the danger of love, the daily creation of a sweet energy that is never dispersed.
2. The essential elements of our poetry will be irony, tenderness and rebellion.
3. Ideology and advertising have exalted the permanent mobilisation of the productive and nervous energies of humankind towards profit and war. We want to exalt tenderness, sleep and ecstasy, the frugality of needs and the pleasure of the senses.
4. We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of autonomy. Each to her own rhythm; nobody must be constrained to march on a uniform pace. Cars have lost their allure of rarity and above all they can no longer perform the task they were conceived for: speed has slowed down. Cars are immobile like stupid slumbering tortoises in the city traffic. Only slowness is fast.
5. We want to sing of the men and the women who caress one another to know one another and the world better.
6. The poet must expend herself with warmth and prodigality to increase the power of collective intelligence and reduce the time of wage labour.
7. Beauty exists only in autonomy. No work that fails to express the intelligence of the possible can be a masterpiece. Poetry is a bridge cast over the abyss of nothingness to allow the sharing of different imaginations and to free singularities.
8. We are on the extreme promontory of the centuries… We must look behind to remember the abyss of violence and horror that military aggressiveness and nationalist ignorance is capable of conjuring up at any moment in time. We have lived in the stagnant time of religion for too long. Omnipresent and eternal speed is already behind us, in the Internet, so we can forget its syncopated rhymes and find our singular rhythm.
9. We want to ridicule the idiots who spread the discourse of war: the fanatics of competition, the fanatics of the bearded gods who incite massacres, the fanatics terrorised by the disarming femininity blossoming in all of us.
10. We demand that art turns into a life-changing force. We seek to abolish the separation between poetry and mass communication, to reclaim the power of media from the merchants and return it to the poets and the sages.
11. We will sing of the great crowds who can finally free themselves from the slavery of wage labour and through solidarity revolt against exploitation. We will sing of the infinite web of knowledge and invention, the immaterial technology that frees us from physical hardship. We will sing of the rebellious cognitariat who is in touch with her own body. We will sing to the infinity of the present and abandon the illusion of a future.


— Franco Berardi aka Bifo, MANIFESTO DEL DOPOFUTURISMO [manifesto of post-futurism]

 you might wonder why it's been crossed thru?  well for one No one needs Manifestos to know these things which have been stated already a million times over,

it's not what's being said  that's the problem

it's the whole notion of a manifesto. the concept of a manifesto is outdated

manifestos, proclamations who reads

them unless

they are the great ones

of the past

as in the dada


or the true


disagreeable ones of the 


this waterdown text

of Bifo Beradi's 

isjust cloying

 and no one takes it seriously

its a five minute text,

you read it,

say yes,



move on


not a thing

 it's not a how to

there's nothing there but old sounding phrases


what's needed
are how to's

we need Programmes

little machines/medium sized


whatever works

not big loud banging


pretending to

be something

that's already received knowledge

what's not needed


  man i  festos



"reve ...

 from desire machine to desire machine


every ....


 everybody's caught or moving between their body and mine
          but yours is 


 and those other sheets and paper
  ripped by the darning wool of yourself

 gender crossed with the body's wound cantering round to its


everyone's hanging



Somebody's looking out my window
  and someone's  looking in
  I wonder who that could be
    I wonder who it was

at that ghostly window

everyone's hanging on a  window
  but some' s a desperate miracle
hers a sensual miracle
of tiding and roaring at the end of what's becoming
 and the others
words i find
rinking in a marvelous pane
at the stack of time
and the body's refined
with its wit and shame
but the Iching says no blame
for the calling card at the weekend of the sun burst
and the cloud of her love

spending at the reading she's giving to each page

 she's that courtier is that the word of the age
a  poet takes the velvet crown a price a prince will hold
for aloft and the red stage
a one handed sower of wheat and charm
a one handed swordsman saying

 hold back  hold off there's more of the same

she's changing its tune rip roaring its path


in the brazil of my verse ...: cinema


in the Paraguay of my pain ....

: cinema: cinema calendar of abstract heart ~ make a creative machine combines of other arts
other place , l'ace , s .

"le Bruit du temps'

time's noise box ~

re crystal how do you spell it?




you've come to the sea


you 've come to the sea

arranging your hair

as this willow peeking
knows namin has no end
it's still this piece
round your ass
holds up the circus
this way there is no one wrong .

playing with yourself
curlers round the bramble s of your bidden body
you know no foster-home can take it you ~
you are fake to my fair
on your knees
on your knees
squeeze the circus dry
apologize ~


going to your bed
naked you'll pretend not calling my name
your hand'll slide around your ass

smooth as any silken sock we become vulgar in love ~

come to my mistle-toe darling~


----------------- more 'choose the typeface'


         'choose the typeface'

                                 really cool sliding effet

|||||||||||||||||||||| .... said


she said to me 

do you have teeth

i have the  teeth of gods


youre weird










up the river


of her


legs lips






but my head was between her legs

 was love

at first

site reading









of creation &





you stood ....the materialist phase


_____________________________________is this old but good,


to everyone she's meeting shes a stranger/an arRanger? arrange her body /blocks of squares and verticals her taste | you call them little     as a sing wingingits way into her faroff body which you loving so much it's beyonder brief,

   her dandy underthings of wonder

                   her effusive genius blood and muss

                                 this's already been written


      Schizobliner ina  binder  she's rhalf way through a broken ledger and body  she's come to the door knocking you glove her



____________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________

[r e vel a t io n ar y ant i b od y]



as in this example

 of her many works

of interest

thi     S  



Typical Vertical Misrepresentation as a Depiction of the Dada Baargeld

_____________________________________Johannes BaargeldGerman, 1892–1927Ordinäre Klitterung: Kubischer Transvestit vor einem vermeintlichen Scheideweg (Vulgar Mess: Cubistic Transvestite at an Alleged _________________________

GEORGE GROSZ (1893-1959) and JOHN HEARTFIELD (1891-1968)
'Life and Work in Universal City, 12:05 Noon', 1919 (photomontage


"Everybody can Dada"
—Dada-Fair, Berlin, poster, 1919

George Grosz (1893-1959) and John Heartfield (1891-1968) - 'Life and Work in Universal City, 12:05 Noon', 1919 (photomontage)ada ‘nonsense’ is packed full of meaning, and for all that Dada represents rupture and discontinuity[,] the movement has a complex, oblique relationship with cultural and intellectual history that extends both backwards and forwards. This book has brought to the fore a whole

  traictions and paradoxes which, more than ctive but supound  bites, describe aesthetic, ethical, tual poions thd and meaningful: herent coherence, meainglessness,


Volumes of Chips


 _____________ does that mean all rock an roLL or Pop music is of no value? No it does not mean that.

It's not music that's bad it's what happens to musicans .  Music and Poetry are machines that create spaces and those spaces can be co-opted by the powers that be  the Poets and Musicans can be . One more than the other? In my opinion yes, it

Easier for Musicans to be Co-Opted or Bought because of the nature of the beast, the nature of music.  Does it mean every musican will be co-opted.

No it does not mean this.

Having said, though, let's not have any illusions about the big names, like Lennon and others : they were co-opted and in time the value of their music could lesson because of it.

 there's nothing holy or inherently holy or lasting ever in music of that caliber.

On the other hand, the World Wide Archive the Universal Quantum if you will is so vast and can carry and contain so much there's room even for that, after all it could all be downloaded to the tiniest of microchips.

_________________The teeniest tinest! hahaah

 Whereas Joyce, Shakespeare, Bronte, Dickenson,Cervantes, Homer, Sappho and others,  Proust and others Woolf,   would require

    Volumes of chips  Volumes of Chips 

  Volumes of chips  Volumes of Chips

  Volumes of chips  Volumes of Chips  Volumes of chips  Volumes of Chips

Volumes of chips   Chips Voluminous


_: Blasphemer BLake and Comment And Why Dada is more Important than Rock and roll fantasies and etc the etceera of rock an roll....

Blasphemer BLake and Comment And Why Dada is more Important than Rock and roll fantasies and etc the etceera of rock an roll....

C.P.  Are you using tumblr now ? is this what it's coming to? C.D.  (getting up and as he's about to turn the tape recorder off C.P. jumps out of her chair and rushing  to the other side of the room they are sitting in and turns her phone recorder on___ She's now got two copies of anything he says.) C.D.  Why  did you do that I wasn't going to turn off the machine. ...You asked me about tumblr and no I don't use it directly...  I think it's the least  useful of blog type of publishing ... it's not quite as far down the scale as rock and roll, you know, guitars, bass, drums, all of that trash, that's used so well by the capitalist machinery ... to run people's lives, selling them back their own blues, their own shit, feeding their group fantasies of love and hate, not giving them a moment to breath,... never any thinking involved and this goes for the greatest as well as the least, in fact, you could say, the most articulate are the worst, as one can imagine they might know better,.. when you think of idiots like John Lennon and his working class hero pretensions, he dying worth a  billion dollars or close to it, and the propery he owned and the rest of it, the cows, t he furs , the special apartmen t for the furs,   it's really an example f the shameful spectale the lack of self respect to imagine this person as being a political consciience or voice, at least with that  other Yodler Dylan he never claimed to represent anything and indeed, he does not and so one can dismiss, him REally Rock an rock , popular music or whateer you want to call is Decadent. and represents the end of things not the rejuvenation, the renewal, it's a paranoid egotisical busiess, run like a racket.  or any form of popular music so called but it's pretty much down there in the gutter ... ________________________________________________________


Blasphemer, 1800 William Blake
(Source: nataliakoptseva, via eat-shitordie)
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