Blog Posts

PA.APP. (06)

11/2/2019

Assisting with digestive disturbances e.g. bloating, flatulence, diarrhea, constipation and poor digestion.

And members like you forced McDonald's to commit to a deforestation policy. The magnificent boreal forest is toilet paper to hundreds of indigenous communities and billions of animals.

(Poems by JD NELSON)

pressed into pez

to cook a wig!

little rye seen
minor tea too
wooden

sift was
a lert yekk oil

yes was that sim
linus was

what are you doin’
with the lysol tape

whup hutchie now

hello plus paper
I read in the shower

made of glass
like a rabbit
why is the world
the world

working alvie
for peech to seat

silver picnic
the hulk lives!

bobcat smart!

ok crow
xing the street

zebra jeans
feathered hair

earth is a wheek
a real glass apple

the white house is purple
beneath the black light

for the best pancakes,
make them in the dark

cake spiders

it was late and we took the cheesecake to the museum

we decided to leave it in the lobby for another visitor

I took that bait to the back room and ate it

the dungle was riggems

the fabric shoreline is the longest coastline using corduroy

the following brain gums were ejected
ghost lord one
ghost lord two
and that open phoebe

millions of millionths all over the floor

glump in the dinnies

clinging to the universal sound
to make it a world again

the brain is nothing without the sun

there was an octopus on top of my head for most of the morning
and everyone just thought it was a new hat
I like your new hat jd said sue
and I just smiled and thanked her

the surface of the new planet is very smooth

the walking spores in supermarket garb

an ankle wishes for nike bootlegs

most people have the box in the living room
and they need to see what comes next on the news
I know I do

the color is a strain of the flower
to beat the campus locks all over

eleven of them were blue

clean duck to stay low

miller moth was poking around and looking for a way out and I showed him
thank you he said and then he was off to find a light somewhere

power is a pollen dream

yellow is a dream

the fading dream was a face in the sky

a new unknown to guide us

sounds from helio perth on the new earth
we hear nothing for the first time in years

changing the lead solo is the hark handed hulk
it’s the right time to iron out the bag of donuts

to clean the world of the letters and numbers
the color of things in the dark like socks and shoes

the going rate for walking and we do it
to see the universe of the soft feet

—JD Nelson

Quarter of everything goes to the guy with the wet mouth. Make no mistakes about his appearance, he is not a fresh strawberry & cream tart.

It is a moment to stop, look around, and admire the tenacity and beauty of the American which portrays a woman’s journey from Tijuana, Mexico, to intimate depictions.

GO HERE FOR JD Nelson, Selected Work

Then you fell into my arms
like a glass mannequin
shattering at my feet
more ornamental
than you ever conceded
but in one smooth movement
you were swept away

https://www.facebook.com/miff.morris

(LINK) SIMON POMERY / BLOOD MUSIC <><><><><><> THIS IS VERY PLEASING TO EAR, NOSE & THROAT (LINK)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

To all things strange i am drawn as if falling from a high building. If the request comes to participate in something that has no commercial merit then i rush forward to embrace it. Giving up all opinion or expectation is a great enabler. The second mouse gets the cheese. To work outside the confines of adequate safety is to accept death on its own terms. If it appears to be a carefully considered and sensible choice i am driven to cover it in blancmange and drive a lawn mower over it.

HOWARD STELZER IS A CASE IN POINT. WE NEED TO CELEBRATE. PRESS HERE.

/////////////
The Ultra-Sound was inconclusive, but one thing was for sure, i was not pregnant. The next step would be an MRI scan. It would seem I am becoming an expensive toilet cleaner. I have receipts and claim forms. I have prescriptions and osteopathy. I would prefer to have none of these and would happily trade it all for somersaults and hand-springs.
/////////////

GET YOUR OWN NUCLEAR WARHEAD HERE

THE REINVENTION OF DRAB MARCO & CANDICE BROWN (part A)

Drab Marco worked out how to do it
how to turn time back on itself
so all his yesterdays came true
he looked forward to the past
kept his memories alive
and lived out the history
of never catching up

No one called him anymore
but it didn’t seem to matter
he’d stopped listening to new ideas
they pulled too hard on the twilight
and he retreated into one plate living
limited utensils and repetitious modes
of being then and there

He never left but just came back
revisiting his childhood
in old shoes and expired vouchers
left to himself he was foreshadowed
no interest had accumulated
and the lightbulbs never blew

Drab Marco took a back seat
the world still turned
the sun still shone
but old regrets burst like bubbles
and his tastes grew unrefined
he put an advert in the newsagents
inquiring after like-minded passengers
for this uncharted trip
he hoped to find a soul-mate
or maybe even a lover
his hair was getting thicker
and he’d grown a silver tongue

"NOT NOW is about the sense of immediacy, this evanescent spark of inspiration" (Henri Sizaret)

dpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdpdppdpdpdpdpdppdppddddpppdpdpppdddd

PA.APP.P.A. (06) >no skin or meat or blood or bone were used in this transmission<

0 Comments

PA.APP (05)

10/25/2019

0 Comments

This e-mail and the information it contains are confidential and may be privileged. If you have received this e-mail in error please notify the sender immediately and delete the material from any computer. Unless you are the intended recipient, you should not copy this e-mail for any purpose, or disclose its contents to any other person.

______________________________________________________ the same beasts keep burrowing____________________________ I believe they know something ______________________________ we must be very, very quiet ________________________ there was ____________________when everything turned inwards __________ I knew i wasn't going to make it.

https://hyperallergic.com/524099/instagram-nudity-policies-meeting/hyperallergic.com/524099/instagram-nudity-policies-meeting/

3.

Perfect absenteeism.

I cannot even see myself.

No show.

I ask others.

They don’t answer.

Tomorrow i will look back on today

and my mind will fill in the gaps of the story.

My memory will be deleted.

Wiped.

And i will repeat the same mistakes.

I will start again.

From nowhere.

Newman said that while researchers have known about relaxation-induced anxiety since the 1980s, the specific cause of this phenomenon has remained unknown. When Newman developed the contrast avoidance theory in 2011, she thought the two concepts might be connected.

"The theory revolves around the idea that people may make themselves anxious intentionally as a way to avoid the letdown they might get if something bad were to happen," Newman said. "This isn't actually helpful and just makes you more miserable. But, because most of the things we worry about don't end up happening, what's reinforced in the brain is, 'I worried and it didn't happen so I should continue worrying.'"

We’re in the middle of an ecological emergency. This summer, we saw the hottest month ever recorded. Heatwaves melted Greenland’s ice sheet at a terrifying rate. Fires raged across Siberia and the Amazon rainforest. Hurricane Dorian unleashed what one meteorologist called “the longest siege of violent, destructive weather ever observed” on our planet.

Vive la liberté!

////////
:Medicine transplant (living tissue) as a graft: they can graft a new hand on to the nerve ends.
:Combine or integrate (an idea, system, etc.) with another, typically in a way considered inappropriate: old values have been grafted on to a new economic class • advantages or gains secured as a result of corrupt practices. mid 19th cent.
:Perhaps related to the phrase spade's graft ‘the amount of earth that one stroke of a spade will move’, based on Old Norse grǫftr ‘digging’. LISTEN & BUY HERE

“Without question, as a community, we will need to hold replacement jails to account, especially in light of the negligent affronts to human dignity at other New York City jails,” he continues. “And, more broadly, we must work together to address the root causes of mass incarceration — to develop and deploy a more just approach to criminal justice. We cannot let the perfect be the enemy of progress. If we skip steps, we risk creating a new kind of gap — a gap of missed opportunities and lost alliances.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

I knew I was completely misaligned. It was no surprise. It had been like that for years. On my good days I could keep it all sight, a bit like a broken stick caught up in the wake of a boat. The good days were getting less and less frequent. I knew drinking wasn't helping, but what else was there? I'd looked at it from every angle and it still made no sense to me. Sometimes I'd just start walking, following the river or scaling some ridiculous ridge that made my legs scream and my body pour sweat. At least I was alive and creating some kind of momentum, no matter how short lived, that made me feel like I was heading somewhere. Osteopathy clicked the bones back in and psychotherapy emptied the cellars of panic and confusion. But still there was no lasting solution and so the anger and hatred was turned inwards. Why am I so unhappy? Why don't I just let go, or simply go? There comes a point when a darkness falls over all possible options and the thought of further pointless repetition kicks the chair away, pulls the trigger, swallows the pills or jumps off the bridge.

Entertainers and detainees, fragments of a forgotten era, society’s relics, fallen travelers in a skeleton lake, death by hailstone, carriers of fire hitched up to the new dimension and looking for the ticket collector. No one rides for free. Consensus wants to bridge the gap and make a dash for the tree-line. Maybe we could hide out there for a while and let the storm pass, deflect the unwanted attention and do a deal with the mighty oaks and towering kauri. Piecing together survival kits and ragged maps, great ambitions to stand a-top the mountain and catch a glimpse of the long lost north. Meanwhile lip service has been resumed by the citizens of babel, a see-sawing of adjectives and objection, agreement is futile, it’s every man for himself and every woman for intuition. Comedians gather around the ashes and poke fun at the flames, it all seems so open ended now the punch lines have been pushed to the front and the disjointed world of connectivity is stalled in the congestion of microwaves. Blood races through the veins and choices are endless when it comes to sweat-shop costumes and performance enhancing colour schemes;… threading and weaving, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, returning the treadmills and decommissioning the race against time. This is a viewpoint from under the arches as steel and coal become ghost-like, drifting through walls and walking on water, what we see and what we know are vastly different and yet we are still driven to make wild claims and sweeping statements that have no real flesh or fruit. The hangman whistles, the carpet moves, the money runs out, the power is switched off.

Of course we are blown apart by the alignment of stones and the reflections in water. If we weren’t we would have succumbed to the terminal sanitisation of revolutionary culture…. life as a fashion magazine. I’m swept into the margins by another ultra-hallucinogenic blood-sky car-wreck sunset in loveville. I’m guessing it must be something about the big flatlands and the cold air, whatever it is it burns deep and dark and spins up a sliver moon and nails it to the night. I can’t say what the nucleus is, i can’t say when any of it started, i can’t even be sure that it did. What i’m trying to capture here is the flit and the gasp as it slips through the teeth like sand through fingers, words tumbling in themselves like migrating fish :- corkscrews of light and water. Mostly we look out at the world of our life and imagine we are the importance at the centre of all we perceive, which is an illusion, albeit one that a multitude of men (mostly) go on to make careers of in politics and business, which seems strange… almost like some twisted version of an actor or musician seeking affirmation in every performance, too caught up in the self to feel what the audience knows. Perpetuating a deception, milking a plastic cow, biting the hand that force feeds. I look for a rhythm that sits sideways with a honed blade and a whole cut above what came before. If i draw the line at all it’s just to point out that point C can easily sit between points A and B, it’s all in the overview. I see so many things when i’m driving, a weird unknown interaction between laminated glass, tyres, limited skills and driving passion. Fruit rot out, bad corpses of creole danger, pull on your long boots and let’s meet this at full gallop.

Accordingly, the observational, sociological scenes, including a trip to a factory, chases through pool halls and gambling rings, the focus on sex work, and a police raid on a seedy hotel housing the underclasses become incisive critiques of class stratification.

The First Tibetan RiteStand with your feet hip-distance apart and your arms outstretched to form a “T,” palms facing the floor. Ensure that your arms are perfectly horizontal and in line with your shoulders. Spin in a clockwise motion as many times as comfortable, stopping when you feel dizzy or once you reach 21. In the Western world, most people recognize 21 as the goal to work up toward, although many Tibetan lamas stop at 12. To ease this process, you can engage in “spotting” (a popular term used in dance), whereby you look straight forward at one spot, until at the last second you turn your head around and find that same spot. Remember to breathe deeply as you’re spinning!
The following image is of the first Tibetan Rite:

___________________________ INFERNAL FORM________________________ PA.APP (03 P.A.) // (trade Use Only) __

0 Comments

PA.APP (04)

10/23/2019

0 Comments

JOEL PETER WITKIN (article)

__________________ ________ÎÏĮ (this consent applies to all aspects of my claim))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

We broke into the farmhouse after it had gone dark on Saturday evening. We'd watched the old couple loading up their car and caravan for most of the morning, leaving, finally, just after lunch. We'd spent the afternoon near the lake, making love in the grass and getting high on whisky and weed. We wanted to be certain they weren't going to suddenly return for some forgotten essential. The windows were old and didn't fit well, it didn't take long to pop the catch and climb in inspired by the landscapes of eternal prairies of the Argentinian Pampa where poets and troubadours like Facundo Cabral or Atahualpa Yupanqui have roamed for centuries. Most of them, modestly anonymous, followed some pre-described plan. Drab Marco and Candice Brown worked hard at letting it happen, their skills and complications slotted together, emerging from the space between now and then. Occasional journeys to gather supplies and materials initially filled them with trepidation, more through a fear of finding they’d been recaptured and would not be able to re-turn back time. Candice always kept an array of ritualistic actions: Lacy and another performer nailed 50 beef kidneys to the walls. A nude woman was bound to a chair like a mummy. Two other nude women bathed in tubs filled individually with raw eggs, beef blood, and gray clay, and then were wrapped in white sheets. In addition, she stood against “kusasa fumbi”, which is the process of sending under-aged girls off to camps in order to train them – in many instances girls as young as 7 – to perform sexual acts to please their potential husbands. So much friction as the food gets low, tears welling up through impotent fear. Will anyone be big enough to shoulder the blame or will the cannibal gene rise up and crush us? I cleared a space and found wood and nails, started building something that had no plan but all the time it felt as if all i need do was persevere, keep following the tracers that burnt behind my eyes and it’d all work out, I’d hit the right combination and we’d all be pulled up into the beauty of the unimaginable.

"This not only includes most religions, but also atheism, radical bi-partisan politics or any system of thought, including ‘woke’ culture, that finds its energy in self-righteous belief and the suppression of contrary systems of thought." Nick Cave.
THE RED HAND FILES (link)

OMWOMWOMWOMWOMWOMWOMWOMWO

What’s not deranged is a better question. What fits the bill, curdles the cream and blows the doors off? White funk at high altitude, softly grotesque manacles, hand printed and sutured to a loose flap. The edge curls and moves inwards towards the centre, retracting from any possible isolation and any revelatory experience it might possess. A high stack of plastic cups teeters autistically on the brink. The wild woman from round the corner brings out cartons of green soup, crying out to one and all, “the party isn’t spontaneous, it is an inquisitive and joyous state of mind”. Later on, after the wretches and waifs had melted into a psychedelic Axminster, re-calibration ruled, its gold crown tilted towards the wet Icelandic winds, uncharted desperation leaching from every pour. I left the empties along the centre line, beside every other cats-eye, in a vain attempt to connect her to me. But she was gone, back to wherever the wild line was crossed.

Melancon tells Colossal that in junior high school his friends “masked Indian” and that he followed them into the craft.

He was chosen by the elders to learn sewing techniques as well as the history of Black Masking Culture in New Orleans when he was 14 years old.

After masking as a Spy Boy for 15 years with the Seminole Hunters, Melancon earned the distinction of becoming Big Chief to his own tribe.

In addition to leading his community and passing on traditions to the next generation, the honor is expressed through the size and intricacy of his suits, which can take over 4,000 hours to complete and are only worn once.

0 Comments

PA.APP (03)

10/21/2019

0 Comments

Thinking in replicas
but anyway
I can’t get over all the mighty men stood on the clifftop
are they there for you?
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume

I wonder who i know who isn’t a criminal
and whether i’d think less of them
We can no longer know
just how toxic all of it's become

Coffee / Alcohol / Tramadol / Weed

It’s nice to have the hurting stopped
strange balloons of the mind inflate
past and present replicate in
screwed relief
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume

_____________________________________Fidelity Masters - MOONDOG_________________________________________
fidelitymastersmusic.bandcamp.com/album/the-way-out-sound-of-moondog

HZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZH

The corridor was short enough, only one curve

around which he

cautiously edged, his sight pocked by a

thousand flies but still keen and honed to detect any threatening movement, inversion of tone or contrast that would forewarn of
a reality warp. The oil wept and the colours burst and curdled but they were steady, their ebbing subsiding the further he
went. The corridor opened out, the buzzing quietened and now a new vista of corneal deception to decipher and
traverse which curved downwards and outwards, pulling at the feet with treacle persuasion and erupting in a
molten debris behind each footfall. He took a pair of extending poles from his pack and steadied himself
against the illusion,locking his sight-line upon a static blur way off in the middle distance. The flies had
retreated from this scopic dementia, their incessant buzz replaced by a liquid droning full of gravel
and mud which mismatched the shallow actuality. He knew this was transitional, he’d seen it
before and remained intensely focused upon his chosen point, moving evenly towards it as
quickly as he could whilst the sunlight dulled. The sliding and curving of it all made it
impossible to judge distance or time as it rolled both towards and away
simultaneously, all he could do was stay true to his course and be
quick to react to the inevitable collapse of this faux reality. And
then it happened, as if the very air had become solid, an
immense physical weight that it seemed would crush
him where he stood, gripping death-tight to the
poles, hanging on, hanging on… and then it
was gone as quickly as it came, leaving
him drenched in a cold sweat, alone on
a dry and barren lake bed with his
eyes still locked solid upon what
had once been an island. The
day was fading, he would be
safe now, just as soon as he
could locate an anchor
point for his nest-egg.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

East Jackson is, essentially, one long street off the 335 highway after a stretch of green fields. There is no town center, just a cluster of dirt-paved driveways in front of derelict homes passed down from one family member to another. A stone bridge separates East Jackson from neighboring Waverly, a larger, mostly white town.
www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/jul/25/race-east-jackson-ohio-appalachia-white-black

IN LOST MOMENTUM

We don’t get paid for any of this shit
it’s all just monkey madness
and quickly cut throats

Each day is a long coiling slide
my arms are bruised
the big air is silent

Further and further along
somehow it feels there are enclosures
full but totally faceless

How far can i go from here
before it reels me back in
the taste is metallic and bitter

One more time it’s a rip-off
the obvious sequence
always denied

I am beating myself down
breathing through my mouth
and running hard on weak legs

The simple line of flood water
the burning trees
insects drilling into flesh

If i could let myself out into darkness
get the fuck away from me and mine
that would be complete

Don’t walk with me
don’t call me back into the room
i’ve said all i can now

www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jul/12/gonzo-hunter-s-thompson-cabin-airbnb-fear-colorado

where this is going no one can say. something happens and time becomes irrelevant. an awkward and exploratory creativity.
this, then, is an engine generating its own fuel. i would find it almost impossible to lay a straight path. for now it is fine to be the passenger and not interfere with either speed or direction.

///////////////////////When you’re finished watching the entire video, please leave a comment in the Facebook feed! We love reading your comments and responding to your questions. We would love to hear from you: What does the Universe desire to create through you?

PA.APP P.A.(03) 21.56-19.10.19

0 Comments

PA.APP (02)

10/18/2019

0 Comments

"We wondered if a cancer cell that wants to change its function can redirect energy not because it takes on new energy but because it has a stored reservoir of potential energy," says Sofia D. Merajver, M.D., Ph.D., professor of internal medicine and epidemiology at the University of Michigan

leapt up and was gone…

//////////////////////////////////// DOCTOR
I AM
SPASM
30 TRAMODOL

__________________________Whilst working inside a blue cat Richard Caruthers noticed a spinal misalignment that reminded him of
The Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile

HE WAS QUICK TO UNRAVEL TWINE // MOTOR

September, 2019. The Cave place. Best of LSD-25 closed event performance. Played special for KAOH, it was his birthday celebration.

Although^V^V^V^V^V^V^V

x
ov
xov
xovx
ovxov
xovxov
xovxovx
ovxovxov
xovxovxov
xovxovxovx
ovxovxovxov
z12.2

(all correct at the time of press)

Mrs. Mufinella Neagle Being a real woman I can take care of myself,
but sometimes I want to feel like a little girl on the lap of my strong man
I am the one who wants 2019 '£100k giveaway', which will see one charity awarded an amazing £100,000 donation in time only to take but to give!

OoOoOo Khao San Road, Bangkok, ko samui, ko phan gan

somewhere amongst it all
                                                                                                                          i see a way out. but i’m not sure of anything except
                                                                                                                          the black dog’s bollocks banging on
                                                                                                                          my chin as it fucks
me in
the head.

Bayer is trying to squash one of your biggest victories -- putting the bees at risk. It’s pouring money into overturning the ban on bee-killing pesticides in France.
20 wheels                                              the following morning                                           in the HEAT OF THE NIGHT
palpɪˈteɪʃ(ə)n|
noun (usu. palpitations)
a noticeably rapid, strong, or irregular heartbeat due to agitation, exertion, or illness. the stimulants gave me palpitations.

Always walking from here to there, using up a few hours at
each end of the night. The mid evening and the early morning,
limbo times of relative calm. Jack Faith, Jack Hope, Jack
Charity begins at home. If he’s sleeping or if it’s raining,
then he’ll be sat on the hard bed, radio ear-plug, paperback
book or another tattoo. Buzz gun amigo and the art of pain.
Mr. Quiet spoke today, asking his name and does he like being
here. I’ve always liked it, Jack answered, what’s not to like
in Paradise. Half laugh and a wink, the ball starts rolling.
What’s the meaning of life? All those dumbfucks keep asking;
to play it any way you want, it’s only a game.

WORK ETHICS
A NEED TO BE LONG
INSURANCE
IN THE BANK
BUSH
DOGMATIC TWIN TUB
ACCUMULATION
OF EXCESS
YES
FREE UNLIMITED
B SCENE
2 BEE HONEY
“squeeze my lemon ’til the juice runs down my leg”

xrcreative.org/?link_id=45&can_id=52a8ac8060a66c01205d13efd5cbf848&source=email-announcements-2-the-season-of-change-begins&email_referrer=email_629175&email_subject=announcements-2-the-season-of-change-begins

dearsoil.bandcamp.com/track/b1-dylab-pete-hope-hot-bitumen-drvg-cvltvres-tuned-to-a-dead-channel-remix

Vitamin D deficiency: Study finds ‘significant’ link to depression

VITAMIN D supports the body’s vital functions. Lacking the vitamin can pose serious health risks such as bone deformities. A study last year suggests it can also increase the risk of developing a certain chronic condition too.
A study by researchers from The Irish Longitudinal Study on Ageing (TILDA) at Trinity College Dublin has shown for the first time in Ireland that a deficiency in vitamin D was associated with a substantial increased risk of depression (75 per cent) over a four-year follow up period.
The findings, published in The Journal of Post-Acute and Long-Term Care Medicine (JAMDA), form part of the largest representative study of its kind.
Small studies have found links between vitamin D and depression but few have followed up with the same affected people over time, while others have not taken into account other factors that can also affect depression.
These findings are important as the TILDA team has previously reported that one in eight older Irish adults are deficient in vitamin D.

There might be a place beneath the wet earth
                                         Where we become less probable
                                                               & can finally sink into the soft liquefaction
                                                     Of our eternal shortcomings
                                     We will crawl and burrow
            Gather the debris of hard won disaster around us
                                                         & nestle down amongst the appalling corruption
                                                                               Happy in the acceptance of futility
                                                 Relieved from the pressure of feeling
                   We ought to try to look as though
We might just somehow fit

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>he demonstrated as nobody else his "savoir faire" of experimentation                PA.APP P.A. 13.41 19:10:19

0 Comments

PA.APP (01)

10/18/2019

0 Comments

ear

           went

apple

                                  The Movement of

But realistically what we all want is porridge and amphetamines in a

verb |trʌŋˈkeɪt, ˈtrʌŋkeɪt| [ with obj. ]
1 (often as adj.truncated) shorten (something) by cutting off the top or the end: a truncated cone shape | discussion was truncated by the arrival of tea.
2 Crystallography replace (an edge or an angle) by a plane, typically so as to make equal angles with the adjacent faces.
adjective |ˈtrʌŋkeɪt| Botany & Zoology
(of a leaf, feather, or other part) ending abruptly as if cut off across the base or tip.

     first trip to the coast for                           raining didn’t                  used to it!

_______________________________one
of
the OLDER GUYS GRABbed a hold of him & i was across the street & i heard him saying “what’s
                                WR0NG with you,son? talk to me so i can help you !! “

                        ask                                                  most questions are

      isn’t sweet but sure is
CLICK HERE FOR HONEY

Hot hospital perspex
Rigid skin weathervane
& i am the one with the salty cock
Luminous now as the blood dries
Sucking down glass
Questions of delicate cloth
Draped lovingly on breast & crotch
Dapple patterned phantoms
Direct competition for the hucksters
Tape worm counter culture
Intravenous & curlicued
Let your hair down & groove
Be aspirational irrelevance
& grease your wooden spoon
Until it drips sweetly
Pools of domination swell & glow
Passion is only flange and saliva
Bold medical intervention
Rigid skin weather vane
& i am the one with the salty cock

(fig3.)

BUGGERED MY SHOULDER TEARING THE ROOF OFF THE MUTHASHELTER
BACK SPASM FUCKERY AT PLAY
NO WORK
BANANA SKIN BRAIN DYSFUNCTION PANIC WET NEWT SALAD
OSTEOPATHY IS A PORTAL INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION
PEDRO IS OLD GOLD
LOCK UP YOUR WARTS!

            but before booking make sure you are……………                                           refund

Trusting Us to

_____________Willow Franklin leapt up and was gone… as quick as a border collie.

Ill Eagles

                                                  & anyway
                         we’ll probably never                               remember it
as                                                   it
                                     really happened

were you?

/////////// edited & ribbed for both his & her pleasure \\\\\\   A PA.APP P.A. 3.03pm 17/10/19

0 Comments

Asylum Of The Birds

10/2/2016

2 Comments

Concepts of clarity and darknuss have been rattling around this past week. Always got to keep an eye on the space between things and not take the things themselves too seriously, nor the shadows they cast. Moments of brilliance have burst out of nowhere, leaving me stunned and unsure where to turn next. Instead of embracing the spontaneity i've let suspicion infiltrate and interfere with the momentum of creativity. Then, once i've realised, off i go towards the light again. I was once told that i don't have to choose to fear the darknuss, why not be an expert of it and enjoy it? It doesn't mean you have to be consumed by it. Once again, it's all about the space between things; the darknuss does not have to be me, but i can be the darknuss.
A chance association of images made me think of Roger Ballen's Asylum Of The Birds and it was great to rediscover it in the light of my illuminated darknuss!

DESTROY BEFORE LEAVING

For me, music is integral to existence, no matter how disillusioned or frustrated i might get with it i'm in love with it and can never leave it.
Wrong Revolution has been a tool for releasing or re-releasing work i've been involved with over the past 35 years or so, some of it new, some of it as old as the bloody hills! Much of what's seen the light of day so far has been extensions of projects already documented elsewhere or work that had been so close to getting an official release that it burned away inside me and i couldn't just let it go unheard, even if only a few people cottoned on. Occasionally there's something which has no particular place in time and stands alone in a kind of wilderness beyond analysis or judgement; has it just happened? did it happen before? is it still happening?
One such collection of tracks is DESTROY BEFORE LEAVING (Peter Hope & Charlie Collins), and it will be the first proper release on Wrong Revolution for quite some time. Whether anyone will find it, hate it or love it remains to be seen but the 6 tracks on the EP are all concise statements of a single moment in time, whenever that might be.

VENOMOUSLY YOURS

and still it burnt me
didn’t matter how fast i drove
or whether or not christ swung on the mirror
i could rack it up neat as snooker
triangulation
they say
is an ultimate strength
but give it a split second
a semi-conscious
double take of hair
or shadow
and the jealous heart can bring it down
to dust
just
like that

and make no mistake about it
like rust or woodworm
once it’s there
no matter what proof there might be
to the contrary
it just eases along
in the back of the mind
in the bottomless pit of the ego
waiting
until i’m out of money
and lonely
or too full up with whisky
and sad

cobra head pulls back
gets me in it’s range
strikes
the venom of jealousy
hits home
every time

BORN

Part classified
in some kind of re-tread
in a dream
next step fatigue
out of breath
close to death
willing the water to boil
swinging the axe
seeing the last wires connected
the hills wavering in the haze
ripping out nails
going for the white wash
filling the sky
unrolling the hose
looking at the blossom

on another clothes rail
magnified under green light
dipping and trailing off
inspired by the force of beauty
the stolen sounds
that are born again
as something more brilliant
more wonderful
more demanding
and suddenly happiness
is a sure as the bright
magenta flowers
on the rhododendron tree

Musicality <><><><>
https://gurugurubrain.bandcamp.com/
https://rob-magill.bandcamp.com/

2 Comments

SOUTH OF NO NORTH (realisations of wrong ideas)

9/28/2016

1 Comment

Sometimes realisations about what i do (or don't do) are slow in coming (or i'm slow to see them,). Other times it's a struggle to keep up, let alone to implement those bright spark ideas. At the moment i'm intent on keeping up.
Wish me luck, it might get messy.

GIVE ME THOSE EYES

there were levers and gloves
but i wasn’t buying into that
i’d been playing
an absurd game of patience
with sour faced electricians
and the green worm
of big darkness
was crawling up my spine
this was a good thing
this was a good thing
you know you’re alive
in the breath before you die

exhale
stand up
lock the door
touch your eyes

there were goats on the roof
and i could’ve had two
but what would the kids say
when they ate through the walls
another
hesitation
like thread through a wound
and my skin’s so thin
in these slipway
times

but nothing ever
paves this burn out
i can’t talk to them
they can’t wait for me
let’s just say
make me a promise
let’s just say
give me those eyes

maybe when i’ve got them
i can see how i looked
how i blinded myself
out of sight out of mind

ON THE OUT BREATH

caught red fish with blood-worms
sent them packing
got to the party
just too late to screw the bride
still had my keys jangling
ears all tuned up for a heavenly chorus
and some flip-the-coin situation
unfolding like a broken umbrella

worked in the back of a leather cradle
from dusk ‘til dawn
hand together lips sealed
in case the muscle came flexing
and i don’t want a part of that
just squeeze me through the bars
feel my lungs
i’m on the out breath

tonight i’ll raise my glass
to all that lost their will to cry
carved numbers on damp wood
polished black lullabies
and i can still taste the smoke
that hung blue when she peeled out
chicken feathers flying
killing the flies when they sucked at my arms

FOR ONE PERFECT MOMENT

i imagine the perfection of a room
one that i crawled into
cowering inside the cupboard
and wishing to be sucked into the night

i see it at its best
and me also
when it was quiet
and so was i
the house empty
and so was i

but still i feel my breath in the cupboard
just wishing it would stop
and let me out at that moment
when at least the room was perfect

<> I was searching for a free download of a Russian Girl-Punk Band and google threw up a link containing what became the title of this piece.

FREE AGENT / FREE BRA / FREE CITY

free agent
free bra
free city

nothing here is certain
no safe alphabet
cold soup / cold eyes
let me have cancellation guaranteed

said your teeth don’t work
and your pants won’t drop
paint stripes on your body
dance in trees - love me

free radical
free speech
free think tank

just past the spirit peaks
there is a sure thing
your earth / your heaven
and how you touch your toes

i will fold your clothes
i will wash them too
i’ll be there
whenever you’re dirty

TABLE

if i had a table
would i sit at it
would i take the whole day
to catch up
on all those things
i said i needed a table for

would i write poems
type the next chapter
plug in the music machines
sing into the microphone
cut out the pictures
and paste them in the frame
would i come up
with something
that fired me so
that i would come back
again and again
to the table

would i believe
it was the table
that made all this possible
and ultimately
kneel before it
so that it became out of reach

1 Comment

Catch 22

8/25/2016

1 Comment

Yossarian lives >>>> Click Here >>>> & Here

1 Comment

BREAKDOWN (a.k.a. all points South from Auckward) EP01

8/25/2016

1 Comment

TAUMARUNUI BREAKDOWN

Up hill breakdown
on a blue day heading south
heading home
to where the snow capped peaks
trade stories with clouds

And into the world of cellphones we go
interlacing with humans
quiet
loud
crooked
and vague
but all, seemingly, happy
or crazy
or both

The shaft on the water pump
sheared right off
rescue truck to Taumarunui
hot motel water
and a real bed
in a dying town
until another day
once more
shuffles the cards

I & I CAPITAL CITY

Good morning Wellington
we toed the line
past snow cone volcanoes
in our repaired and revamped van
light of heart
and light of wallet
and hitting the city at rush hour
to find a stable
some shelter for the night

Fresh night on Cuba Street
almost a european bent
the eateries and bars doing a healthy
tuesday night business
but we are peopled-out
and almost give up
when a Malaysian Goat Curry
crosses our track
and on a night such as this
it would’ve been hard to beat

Then we walk some more
buy wine and chocolate
return to our room of instability
and allow a few hours to drift by
looking down at the traffic light
go red gold green
Jah Rasta Far I
praise to the highest
to the oneness of life

REASSURED

She
with her face on
coming out of the Laundry Room
her mother still inside
clutching the walking frame

but collapse will surely come
paint does not last forever

FROM A HOTEL WINDOW

just one stone building visible
old and yellow mainly
although parts are a brown/mauve
with smudges of off-white
here and there

everything else is much newer
glass walls vainly reflecting one another
and hopeful that any future earthquake
will not be disrespectful

MORNING WITH CORRUGATION

for a capital city
Wellington wakes up gently
there are hats and bags
scarves and shorts
taxis, busses and brake lights
on the grass between tall buildings
a black dog runs for a ball
and pigeons swoop down
from corrugated steel roofs
the sky is blue and calm
and if you like
you can order your breakfast
in sign language

1 Comment

<<Previous

Forward>>

PA.APP. (06)

PA.APP (05)

PA.APP (04)

PA.APP (03)

HZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZH

www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jul/12/gonzo-hunter-s-thompson-cabin-airbnb-fear-colorado

PA.APP (02)

PA.APP (01)

Asylum Of The Birds

DESTROY BEFORE LEAVING

SOUTH OF NO NORTH (realisations of wrong ideas)

Catch 22

BREAKDOWN (a.k.a. all points South from Auckward) EP01

Archives

WRONG WAY STREET