December 2011
45 posts
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I am always [more] Marxist when I stay with my mum. We live in a village a mile-or-two from the Duke of Badminton (the Queen’s cousin); he own’s several areas around us- including our house & Badminton, & the majority of the people who live on his estate’s work for him. Bloody aristocracy, they haven’t got a clue. (I’m so bored).
I’m thinking I might have a go at, or even make a project of, doing a reworking of some major work. I’m quite inspired by the ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’.
Inside October ovaries/
omnipresent & contestable/ blends of attention seekers
A spoon of fire light,
faggots of cellophane & silk
over Baraka. Hold him tight
you hear!
Free over bearded/
the reincarnation says I’ll expire more annals than an ocean;
every endless impression will come to pass my frigid contours & retrieve a separate distance from the crescendo carving overdetermined notions
of my ex-girlfriend’s discharge/ ...
Impeccably contumacious ribcage/ red-clotted atrium/
wood stove lampshades, ornate pitchforks:
monarchy
Mum bought me a Kindle today! Though I used to condemn them, I’m actually very excited now that I have one. Sorry if this sounds generic. Happy days! :)
A reaction to somewhere in 'The Epic of Gilgamesh'
One flaw in all walking people
is that convincing themselves they’re Gods
makes them a commodity. Individualism
has become commercial.
This is the millennium
for begging fusion over aesthetic.
Pick up your basket graze the pasture/ abreast.
Immortal roots
for the furious bounty of wilted elation. ...
My poetry feels different. It’s nice. :)
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Looking out on London
pay rise fr shower gel this yr
0.01 percent imperial growth &
no theatre without contempt
fr the third world
(I wouldn’t even know
how to go about making
foxes laugh)
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@pilgrimsoulinme
pilgrimsoulinme said: Geez, J., why don’t you just say what you mean instead of burying it all this “RHETORIC”??? <333
Hahaa! (1) because I don’t actually know how to say what I truthfully mean, (2) because I have nothing to prove to anybody & (3) I’m trying something a bit different in the way I approach my poetry; I’m less concerned about the actual content &...
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the smearing destruction & creation of a dud/ the fresh lullaby of an ocean campaign/ seahorse chowder & digital faces with eye’s frustrated; the failure is in the lack of negatively charged horny acid eviscerating the tail ends of foreplay after all else sounded whimsical.
candle polish & evening lyric on the steady trigonometry/ ...
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A response to T.S. Eliot's 'Cousin Nancy'
hasn’t she learnt to nakedly comport hrself
apathetically, the foul-mouthed grace
of trampling hr modern dances, pertaining
to high irreverence & allegory.
“There is so much compassion in people: why? Why relieve someone from death when...”
– A thought
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I’ve been with you under yr bed sheets/ smoking yr evening fires/
breeding yr daffodils & bottleneck’s into pickled cannons/ O do look into & observe them one Sabbath; their jaded symmetry in exhibition beside a fire plug dubbed Marcel Duchamp
& some yellow orphan nigger ...
What is not plausible/ even the apprehension of a truth/ might drop-kick one in the oesophagus . A dissolving impromptu-
plucking scattered jazz strings from the tempo syntax of white birds/ is the borderline poetry of one’s own heresy/ a fairytale of/ conclusions & platinum speeches upheld/ with bronchitis-;
...
“All thinking people oppose terrorism, both domestic and international. But one...”
– Amiri Baraka “Somebody Blew Up America”
Fuck post-modernism!
Seriously…
“Hey, Gambino!
I wanted extra prawns
with that.”
– Emily Critchley (my mentor): ‘91 rap phrase haiku’ Google her!
Got published in a student- run magazine
… on that!
“You can’t bring your old habits here … If you want to participate, you will have...”
– Lebbeus Woods (via golehyas)
Blues
there are ways & ways
to compose a glance,
but not many are my own.
I turn at some drunk,
the surrogate of two whiskey bottles-
think “how wonderful”- & I’d be right
during the day, “but being black
ain’t easy” he might slur.
Dark entrances contain the ...
“Aunts cook like there’s no tomorrow, and they’re right.”
– Kevin Young: “Aunties”
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Eclogue
Outside the dialogue of idle pastoral grass,
I turned my head around & traced the thread of insecurity back to anxiety. Tonight has not collapsed its masterpiece-
& I who treads/ stumbling under the antique constellations, am always astonished by a beauty unmarked by contradiction.
Tonight, the...
Feel so Inadequate... =\
golehyas:
oblogetry:
golehyas:
daisysnotebook:
I firmly believe that words cannot oppress, and do not oppress until they are written into law.
What do you mean by this though? Aren’t people “oppressed” on a daily basis by colloquial words?
We have to be oppressed- by words/language- to formally express ourselves.
I think Daisy is taking it as a divide between mere offence (as Mill...
“Our standard of reality is an accumulating, gyrating and disappearing flux of...”
– Waldo Frank
Body
Quench me with the acid vomit
of dogma when it comes alive. The transaction will be as anthropomorphic as magic-realism rationalising legends into ornate fiction- & each one will take a stern look at the other- with contours pitless as unknown troughs, frowning like a Cyclops when spring light descends-
& gazes un-relinquished by atrocity,
...
“Sometimes to read a Hughes poem is like trying to go out in bad weather,...”
– Derek Walcott on Ted Hughes in ‘What the Twilight Says: Essays’.
“In a southern city a white man said
Indeed, I’d rather be dead; Indeed,...”
– Gwendolyn Brooks: ‘Negro Hero’
The Woman and the Flame
A bit of light that descends the springhead of a gaze
twin shadow of the eyelash and the rainbow on a face
and round about
who goes there angelically
ambling
Woman the current weather
the current weather matters little to me
my life is always ahead of a hurricane
you are the morning that swoops down on the lamp a night stone
between its teeth
you are the passage of seabirds as well
you who...
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Ghetto shine! from the rugs. Shuddering
Cadillacs, renaissance bitches from sleeping jungles
can’t get the
fuck out my
sound system! A-track hype humming momma ...
“African surrealism is different from European surrealism. European surrealism is...”
– Senghor (1965: 85) - from ‘Myth and Regeneration in Aime Cesaire’s Poetry’
Ella Robinson: ‘Journal of Black Studies’
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for Emily Critchley (my mentor)
When you don’t understand-
Good. Never understand.
The unknown is a necessary part of my freedom.