I don't ever profess
to know how on earth this fetid swap
To quote Peter JA Chapman com
The only one whom isnt a con
" ehh... no art here... for many a year
[i argued withim' " no she.... just ...if she
just let go....she's the only one in her soul
a true artsit stuck behind her FAkebook HAtesville
beggin bowl"]
could possibly repurpose itself - i mean nationwide
builder society
of as the Portuguese say "for The English to see"
- rotten wood only, behind, that white painted picket fence
Right no time for even sprintin verse
as im sat behind their symbolic hearse
Tip.
I didnt really know even if i kindof
was divinely intervented a decade and a half ago
There really are ONLY two modes:
really...
no middle road
Either, mode 1 you've LIVED within their hell and damnation
and smiled at every incantation
of nothing and somehow then remove yourself
put yoursef upon the top shelf
incontinence dribblin
down every morn, graceful poetical words-have-two-meanings stuff
Maybe graceful semi disguised.
fictionalising the darkest cavern behind their eyes.
For their sake i couldnt care less
except thank the gods i found more by living only on less
but for that mode you have to have an undisturbed top shelf with nice reliable plug
and enough grub
and coffee too
(there being only one definition of that word, black as a Serbian
[oops i forgot the Redhead
she alone has got into my head... no errata those Serbian fillders 7 ot 8 weeeks ago near earwormed me dead
they are so genius ..
theres gold flake flaotin atop all my piss
takin, mistaken for seditious flow
of no hope nowhere left to go
Anyway there are two modes:
1 either you have 20 years of the best material ever all carfeully curated all still alive in my head
augmented by 50km a week Track wanderin..
in quiet (impossible to get almost everywhere in this childman swamp of iboat therefore i am
something i could never be in reality)
just forget one has to exist at the cliff edge
as somehow one has managed to bring in 500 quid a month
a hedge
against the next lost out-of-Napal
lying fake " i will hire you on sunday, you are special to me"
the witchiest of them all.
In other words fully and finally aside
in which case words can sanely and with orwellian bumsttuckness
head up his often
except when death is nigh,
sometimes flow
Or another mode
The REALLY no way ever ever ever can it be good for
creativity poetry or just quite good philosophy
daily... hating all humanity
well that which slithers in this pestilent Shopping Aisle
long ago known as one only of
genocide (Pilger books 3 - 6) and insanity
Anyway as someone who actually refused other than to have nice chats with ok women (the only one) to use the word 'art' .. the most overused in this language for certain
The word they could never use
as they could never imagine
(all these on endless workshops and studyin' it)
Is absolutelly so on the cliff edge
not a penny ion pocket ort behind the sofa
with which to hedge
any sure fire bets on whats next
or as usual another lying potential employer' pest
It really is the BEST ever mode of all
There is no middle ground... no sometimes maybe ok today i feel nice enough to write my next "film script"
or Tightrope ode
no mere middle of The Road
it really is
Thank you.... I didnt REALLY know that
til sirened two year'nago down to frankly evil, here
which no one will belive unless all photos recorded chats (most slagging off their dreadful fake 'activist' childart cartoonist BAnksy and even the rich one down south... just her and me...
and
many a film and photo of living on the edge only of
what would cause you to vomit real sick into this little screen ere and now
disgust
true edgelife.. below pondlife..
i love every second an endless sublime adventure without end
that in fact does create even better 'in the moment'
new (i shall argue no its NOT art only great literatiure (and some rare cinema) is art my definition, it must have noble purpose - cause SOME 'change' too
otherwise all must a pile of steaming poo
but i do have a decade of their steam...
in my camera too
but i cant do anything unless i am paid to get back to mode 1
and no one ever (except for one)
bungs a dime in but me a coffee
which for me increases magnificent
all or nuthin actual Art of Livin
sublimity
And every single word is there for sharin
workshoppin' for free
just you and me
and anyone else to mean to pop their ugly nose in all for free
but even bad writers of the 15th century
managed to scrape together listed 'patrons'
back of frontispis
"paid for me"
to have the odd Serbian black coffee in assylum sanity
