Consumer Report

SONNY'S TIME NOW - Sonny Murray
lots of Django Reinhardt
coffee and chocalate
PAUL CELAN
lemsip cold & flu mixture (again)
CHURCH NUMBER NINE - Rev. Frank Wright
Shirley Collins
Les Scribblistes - gustave morin
Black is the Colour - Patty Waters

"(The state) enforces a logic that puts an end to conflicts & contradictions. It neutralises whatever resists it by castration or crushing. Is this social entropy? Or is it a monstrous excrescence transformed into normality? Whatever the answer, the results lie before us" - Henri Lefebvre, "The Production of Space"

Hawkwind-Urban Guerilla

This is specially for the right wing comedy writer Todd Swift.

Commons 19 - 24

& etc.
“eclipse, as they were - “
as their favourite line
performs no rite
utters no spell
possesses no medicines
images, poisons, etc:
“she got him up upon her back
carried him to an earthen lake”
ok, who are they?
- sobriety, pronounced -
o knowledge,
mere sophistication & wicked abuse,
census & the police computer.


ok, say that again -
the effect is immediate -
no fuss, no bother,
the wind shall blow for evermore:
moan, now
on his white bones
his intolerable name.
He is the man or woman
sitting beside you,
bitter & false & snapped
inside every nation
such hawks & hounds, such ravens
o bitter statistics
the cuckoo is a pretty bird


“yes I wasted my life
on trivialities,
justice, for example,
the pulse of the cities
varied magnetism,
flickers of aged scales,
words shuddered
& the reverie
is a solid thing
burst inside its price
its rainfall, its trembling
hatred is so gentle,
forgive me if I shatter
inside your threads of sleep”


Of gorgeous magnetic fiends
even the memory is blocked:
history’s shadow stalks us
call it the net of
the idea is simple
& permanently freakish:
to live outside of servitude
the confidence & cowardice
of those who force us
into fiction, difficult & locked.
But the scorn we feel
BANG
night of the living dead
all else is annoyance & avarice.


In this one night hotel
we’ve got, you know
the poem -
calculated & horrible,
calculated
& swinging low (o sweet,
with a ribbon in my hair,
a coffin in his throat,
a black boat gliding slow:
everything I need, the
city scorched, in flattering tides
we’ve got, you know, the poem
glides in slow:
a bitter scream inside this night


but I’ve got a magazine
does all that stuff for me /
& water made from flower & soot.
ok, forget that, the town is
not
a fortress, not
a landscape, not
a cosmos or a
HEXEN, nah -
stupid
as sobriety,
bitter events in its memory /
credit, zombies & clowns,
friends.

Poetry from the Americas

May 29th
room B18
University of Birkbeck
Malet St
London
7.30

FREE

Martin Bakero (Chile & Paris) will launch his
tri-lingual VICEVERSA
here in the UK

Christine Wertheim (LA) will read her works.

These are both poets whose work explores the dynamic
relations between
the :visual:verbal:visceral:
both are infrequent visitors to these shores.

Take this opportunity to hear them read FREE

Commons 13 - 18

Hiding inside our anarchists
and as scared -
saleable glimpses of
dying in 1993,
in acrylic zombie flip:
he had rented it all back,
& was wrecked,
stranded outside his favourite laws,
free as seas or
unbounded hail
as a spore left inside the language,
not a code made of letters,
but social utterance flaming,
everything was wrong but it happened.


Such thinking forgets
vast territories of our
sected selves:
“all is ours”,
the police power to hurt
& how to eat in hell
where my wits were lost
in splintered oblique english
secured the preternatural rain
grazed upon our
seriously, trickling down our
passer-by
with malevolent archaic sound
"my bag a long knife carries".


Unaroused by official culture
history has been stashed
below a system of false brains
reduced to his ambitions
(democratic)
gold, falling
inside there are flowers
& we are bleeding
with intelligence & gunnery -
weirds have warped us,
his pronouns & his freak,
we are silent within
his good clean mind -
night of the ludicrous fink.


Oh fucking cosmology -
oh mad spit -
the ‘reverie’ is a
stop, oppressive line
“is this is that”
like a mystical shudder?
yeh, that’s hideous.
anyway, false, as I was saying
was watching my character
was yours,
became a clear system,
an impotent closure,
not saying anything in particular,
just sick, just everything.


Just lick (oh, please -
inside the most vivid
words had wrecked them
& their stunned town
(favourite epoch here)
ate its fabled sticks
& starved -
(would flash just like a
(insert enemy here)
(would flash just like a
(please)
meanwhile, what were you saying?
like, just go detourne yourself
(stuffed with walls, insects & teeth


But I was taken with stillness
& malevolent lords
would eat the living hail
back when I was still blood
intersected by police democrats
were threaded with hell
but I was still coins
like any stupid cuckoo blade
“the baser & poorer sort
such whose lives were burdensome”
I, for example
was quite simply scared
but anyway, inside this language
there is no word for sky

Shopping Hour

still digging much the same stuff as last time, but also
PITCHIN CAN - ARCHIE SHEPP
everything in the world by Sleepy John Estes
IT THEN - DANIELLE COLLOBERT
War Variations - Amelia Rosselli
the very existence of CECIL TAYLOR
cheese on toast
litter
TUTU MUSE - MARIANNE MORRIS
Blacktop - I Got a Baaad Feeling About This
BO DIDDLEY'S BEACH PARTY
loads of other stuff. its my birthday soon. you know what that means . . . .

We're out to get you

tomorrow, somewhere in tha University of Sussex

recommended . . . . .

read this interesting article

Harry Smith's 11 (-1/3)

Mayday

here here here

meanwhile, London has fallen to the tories. so I am dreaming of a band of armed beggars marching on Boris Johnson's house at midnight.

El poeta saluda al sufrimiento armado.