Monday, December 01, 2008

The Commons set 2 / 1-5


secret history number
don’t / step / on
here is your alphabet
elizabeth windsor
housing benefit ref
cough up & shut up:
here is a room to
here is a serum flight
mouth erased now,
you live in rigged integers
burnt gust globes
you live in fun people
negative numbers
motherfucker



now you go ape
sorry but I feel spit:
now redistribute decades
each insomniac decade
step on fun people
each bursts like a dog
nice dog / nice spark
this is your head on TV
this is the dole, revolving
bright magnetic birds
sweep and soar
this is my frequency
a thin metal screech
non-cognitive


& thats not all:
cough up the alphabet
to one side of, um, axis
the decibel, yeh
burnt number, crackled
just as voices
from ‘near silence’ to
like, ‘all hell’, where you
don’t / ‘people person’
bright magnetic secret
inside speech, from silence
outsourced decades
incorporated what is known
&, as they say, numb



don’t
rim / fun / people
value notwithstanding
as least I know I’m a moron
isolated, episodic.
certainly, this is ridiculous
try running it backwards
cancel the landscape
the imagination of racists
insert symbol
rhythmic displacement
christians, beaurocrats
keep taking the pills
benefit thief


this is me revolving
certainly, this is spit
like ‘all hell’ where birds
prowling dogs
sorry / negative decades
live in it like a racist
this is my silence
big constitutional principle
bright magnetic decibel
nice gravity, nice racist
- yeh -
have your say David Cameron
music / movies / games
finance / cars / answers

3 comments:

Jow Lindsay said...

Yeh riches, like Insects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season, fly.
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward Steward for the poor;
This year a Reservoir, to keep and spare,
The next, a Fountain spouting thro' his Heir,
In lavish streams to quench a Country's thirst,
And men, and dogs, shall drink him till they burst.

The Editors said...

I like how the sound of the bird, becomes the frequency of the poems subject, a high screech equated with a 'cough' of the alphabet, which gets
refigured as noise, noise which operates at the extreme poles of aural perception, which again is interesting because the whole material you
are working from is the folk song, which is not normally associated with extreme noise, in its material nature, melodic tonal guitars, violins and at its worse (Fairport Convention) can sound
twee (but maybe the extreme noise of the folk song is that which is carried (though normally imperceptible to our ears) within its historical
tradition and repetition) in this way your birds voice the violence of this historical tradition and articulate it as a poem (or have I just
squelched your poems with too much Benjamin?)
And Jow is a genius. Steve.

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