Criptic Critic Conscience and Known for it

Thursday, July 22, 2010

No art school, just teachers. Part 1

The Dark Ages, Days before the light bulb and the luxury of not needing to Believe in a god.

Sexy tele baby
you're just crack
sexy tele baby
get off my back,
sexy tele baby
I'm so sick of you
sexy tele baby
everything's so blue

Fucking 27, Taiwan.

There are no cats here, to speak of,
some wasted monstrels, lost alive, looking
like they've had a fight and are
walking to their next. Stand out cause
of their dirt, they are filthy,
I've never seen a dirty cat. Dogs
dam it I'll say are plentiful, roam
in polite packs, sleeping anywhere
like cows in india - sacred, for once
a dog jumped into the grave of
his owner and was buried alive I
guess, such is the feeling for this dog.
Traveling through that what is not city,
is a circuit board of total conectivity,
instead of suburbs st's, Rows of properties,
houses are stacked on top of one another,
usually 3 stories surrounded by the human
tapestry of rice field, and the system of
drains and water flows necessary to
regulate such production. No
fields to play in walk through, no woods,
parks, if you do come across one it
suffers from a western imagination, sits
there painfully like a toy no one
wants. Gardens however, manacured trees
arranged plant blocks, with grass areas,
this is public life, and one of the
few places the ratio of 1 person
to perhaps 10 meters squared visibly shows
people relaxing, taking pictures, throwing
balls, flying kites, doing exercise.
I watch. My biggest problem
with being here is that I have
to work. There are no metaphors
no translation for the transformation,
the change of what was mine
to what is dictate absorbed and
re gurgitated as my life, as
Being part of the dominant world of work.
My Hate for this behaviour is
simple and unyeilding. No logic could
fail to understand my reasoning.
The 1st sign of transformation was
the humour, drawed, grained,
character stereotypes fall down like
giant vats steel and ceramic
molds impersonal oblivious squeeze
my head my mouth my lungs
as i laugh while the 1st
Bad Joke of an oppressed men,
screws into the mind of my partner,
screws into place, into my forehead,
the sign saying slave.

Best of the New Zealand landscape series, 2010

New Zealand 2010 part 1

"It is sweet and right to die for the homeland, but it is sweeter to live for the homeland, and the sweetest to drink for it.

I steal photographs

As a journalist, I pile on the facts
In all time is it said Armed with only
a pen.
I shall move the bead along a little with
Hugged only by a pen
Mind sculpted by unemployment, The Aristocratic
Unemployed. Kill the Aristocratic Unemployed.
Will you, we'll see, it perhaps
but feel it - how do you destroy a
part of yourself.

(picture your body with different areas assigned to different words, every word has a location, a place on you body, heaven, hell, Buddha, Allah, Jesus etc etc) 

So I stand in a garden built to keep
surfers away from their building, their
club house in a cold off shore, where
we have traditionally stood, they've
built a garden.

'The Comic Genius the Concords Ripped off'
2 weeks only
tickets $5 (in honor of your low wages)

Saw a woman learner surfer today,
she was waving her arms in a
fashion that she'll soon forget even
though it wa highly effective and
a hoot to watch, style Rules
dissolve all identity.

A great ride was just had
by a weak learner boy who
was perfectly positioned out of position
to pick off the wave of the heat
the day the set to squat
himself through to the semi's - the
next event, news worthy, hero

The formal problems
suggested by the surfboard
in relative popular
society today.

New Plymouth. Library Steps. 3.20pm

Public Note taking - Thursday

The children of New Plymouth smoke like brow
beaten adults, who have guessed it already.
The stem like prong of the crutch reaches
the steps to go down, wearing a neck
brace, spine twisted by cerebral palsy makes
littler kids laugh like a polite bubbling
english brook. They stand waiting to
be noticed, checking phones and looking
around while real people just avoid bumping
into them, and then "Ello" - (family friend,
What you do to your hand'
yeh - fell - 'oh well',
The English is Maori toned,
that is sunshine, despite the rain.
Kids are laughing about something else
now - they are having a good time,
together, making fun a young asian
woman - 'I want to go to Hawaiiiiie"
ha ha ha, As she gets in her
4x4, 'I want to go to Hawaiiiii"
ha. ha. ha...

Smoking kids pride contact, eyebrow
raised and hands in mock salutes
touch each other as if the trench
was this long this big - this
deep - the view is that'a way
chances of getting shot today...
not to high so touch and celebrate
our brief reprieve.

Empty Peanut Butter Jar Cathedral

things we noticed on arrival Back to NZ

The Light is clear, bright and stark.
People are aggressive, walk with it, look with it,
There's public trash cans,
There's tap water you can drink, bottled water is
very expensive.
food here is expensive.
The buildings are small, assertively colonial.
Brutal defiance in Poverty
Red cross shops everywhere,
Brand new cars
and extremely expensive petrol.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Es un testamento en vida.

No quiero presumir de enviar
Es la vida, la venta es como un sueño
Plaga mismo un dólar de repuesto para el orfanato
cuando nos lavamos los planes de limpieza
para colgar para que todos puedan admirar

No quiero parecer que estoy
desesperada es única prueba de vida
tal vez la voz de Harold Bloom en mi cabeza
me ayudará a encontrar el camino
a tratar con usted

Tengo mucho que decir, simplemente no hay hueco para decirlo
tienen casa, coche vaya golpes spactual el recipiente de mezcla
Estoy solo, ahora el lado de las puertas del cementerio
no en busca de la entrada, justo en paz.
Clubes me salvará, inicie una
dividir la línea central de la vida
entre conocidos cepillado con un conjunto de terciopelo
trozos de suavidad pantano mortal tan maduro
aplastar los dedos
centros regordeta un estallido de la piel
y luego el vendaje.

Platón tenía razón, hemos alineado a ser esclavo
Tiene el premio al juego más popular para siempre
mucho tiempo, como telón de fondo de homicidios rogando por sus golpes
los niños impailing sí mismos en instrumentos contundentes
señores el tiempo es tiempo,
batiente lado donde sopla el viento
cerca del carnaval de los merigoround, consulte la fresca
carne deshilachada extenderse a lo largo de los puntales de una década de
pintura. No preguntes qué puedes hacer por tu país

Kafka tenía razón, estar fuera de la vista o se comerá
Spencer, que era él, un niño perdido, queda pensando errante
hizo que me ayude
saber que cuando era niño
Yo era un punto de vista, santa
entregado delante de igod
una afrenta a su bastidor del cuerpo enclenque
su lata sombra del oído.

¡Fuera de mi oscuridad gritó el hambre
Me siento como mi suerte está echada
no ten piedad de mí, sólo me ayude si puede
Si muero de estar en esta calle de la derecha aquí
sólo será igual que la flor debajo de ese árbol justo allí
Mi dolor será tu destino
Bloom tu me dejas
i puede pudrir aquí en la calle
donde los coches van
voz lo suficientemente caliente para
lo dicen todo

Todos los principales de la pulsión de muerte, Toda la vida vivida ante la muerte
Rebelión libre avaricia fuerte y purga, la guerra de nuestro tiempo
el amor en un cesto de mano, hacer compras para iluminar ambiente
lo había hecho
y ahora salir de ti en el sleave, como una picadura de abeja, no sirve para el recuerdo
por una fortaleza, las verdades más tortuosos de favor y agaisnt u otra.
No voy a entrar en la calle de carga posterior agrietado por el peso y la edad en esta esternón
aliento sobre un templo y ver como me levanto
y la caída, ascenso y caída
Nunca mires hacia abajo, no tiene que
no superior a un conejo y
tienen en la oreja
choque con las paredes no se cree que su forma de pensar
y dejó escapar el grito de dolor a lo largo de sonidos tipo de tono para reducir de fiar
por mucho tiempo, hasta después, me he ido
ido a lo largo.

Esta vez, voy a tomar es mío.

It's a living

I don't want to post boast
It's a living, selling is like a dream
Scourge yourself a spare dollar for the orphanage
where we wash our plans clean
to hang up for all to admire

I don't want to seem like I am
desperate is evidence only of living
perhaps the voice of Harold Bloom in my head
will help me find the way
to deal with you

I've got a lot to say, just no hole to say it
house hold, car go spatula swipes the mixing bowl
I am alone, now out side the gates of the cemetery
not looking for entry, just alone.
Clubs will save me, start one
divide the central line of living
between acquaintances brushed with a velvet set
morsels of mortal marsh mellowness so ripe
the fingers squish
plump centers a popping of skin
and then the dressing.

Plato was right, we've lined up to be enslaved
It has the prize for most popular game for ever
long time, Against the backdrop of of murderees begging for their blows
children impailing themselves on blunt instruments
time gentlemen it is time,
swing out side where the wind blows
near the carnival of the merigoround, see the fresh
frayed flesh span across the struts of a decade of
paint. Ask not what you can do for your country

Kafka was right, be out of sight or you will be eaten
Spencer who was he , a boy lost, left wondering wandering
did it help me
to know that as a child
I was an angle, holy
delivered in front of igod
an affront to his puny body casting
his tin ear shadow.

Get out of my darkness cried the hungry
I sit as my lot is cast
do not pity me, only help me if you can
If i die sitting on this street right here
it will only be just like the flower under that tree just there
My pain will be your destiny
Bloom you desert me
can i rot here in the street
where cars go
voice warm enough to
say it all

All the death instinct, All life vivid in front of death principal
Rebellion strong and purge free greed, the war of our age
love in a hand basket, shopping for enlighten ment
had it done
and now leaving ti on the sleeve, like a bee sting, for memory's not served
by a fortress, truths more devious of for and against or another.
no I'll take the load road back cracked by weight and age upon this sternum
breath upon a temple and see me rise
and fall, rise and fall
never look down, no have to
not above have a rabbit and
have it in your ear
crash the walls with not thought to their thinking
and let out the cry of sounds sorrow, along type of tone to narrow to be trusted
for long, till after, I'm gone
gone along.

This time, I'll take it's mine.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010