((ob).serve.(it)) : makes me wanna embrace who?
half baked ignorant awareness
as the perfect state of
bitter happiness
from which to
sling meaningful
emptiness. i might be onto some nothing
with outting this and that.
validation cycle abyss gazer.
if yr a member you cant be,
if yr not yr a hack idiot.
Tuesday 3 February 2009
Monday 2 February 2009
zoe's
Hoof lung pie crust. In drywall horse tourniquets.
Irritating projects left undone. Do crop
the polar bear
opposites offal exchange offerings off of
...........................................................Tormented self-doubt
will it kick the cold toenails in worry?
Run the blue thread ................................through
a mask's failure to masticate.
Reserve impending tree failure,and of course
a first carnal toon self portrait.
While the microwave overheats bread,
and clouds puff within sides
your electric rake
makes conceptual sloppy hot.
Emotional, human foamy smiles.
So far out on this fool green circle.
Tradition ... again.
Ironic became sincere.
The lettuce charade & peering.
Figures mid-paranoid shadow excuses for A.D.D. What if "and" said
be a sucker.
Radial burnt black horizon page turner
classic blond ring bearer............ something wise guy cautious.
A squid filter barring quarrels with
purple crayons. and stale urine.
Longing's stream of who is failing- it stinks in the past.
New golden styles. Dabbler’s input click it
or contradiction's odyssey flowing by.
I'm an elderly accountant.
A dessert with too many sons.
Tentacle. Kitchen linoleum. An adding machine.
Wolf green knee buy,no. Sing bird. So far out
slain on this fool green circle.
In drywall horse tourniquets, pond scum.
And old inside ears grows zeit zone foes.
Glitter crickity,coming to wars you scales claws.
With hair & fire.
Crowned and brown human ache.
The center of hugged conceivability
praises
the icey kitten larvae & inked pink thumb issues
in a sarcastic grey sky.
Trace sonic boom scrabble, fobs and orthodontists,
Blessing self deafening throbbers
of vain-bleached horns.
A cartoon puddle spreading stump. Filled with wet holes.
Introducing!
Eggtooth's Artist Survival Scheming, by eggtooth
classes will be held in my shed at midnight on most nights.
just come around back and close the gate quietly or you'll wake my dog.
payments can be made with writing.
1st class: the lie that told the truth
2nd class: how to be friends with artists who make great art that you think are a-holes
3rd class: clothing. this is everything people. gaaawsh.
4th class: your art doesnt matter and why
5th class: YOU are the new gallery
6th class: preassigned politically hot topics made for you and your style
7th class: fake your suicide (and pricing your soul)
8th class: (optional) the messianic paradigm
9th class: your art is everything and why
10th class: individuality and its existence
11th class: decorative art and sexuality
12th class: politics of the imagination
Eggtooth's Artist Survival Scheming, by eggtooth
classes will be held in my shed at midnight on most nights.
just come around back and close the gate quietly or you'll wake my dog.
payments can be made with writing.
1st class: the lie that told the truth
2nd class: how to be friends with artists who make great art that you think are a-holes
3rd class: clothing. this is everything people. gaaawsh.
4th class: your art doesnt matter and why
5th class: YOU are the new gallery
6th class: preassigned politically hot topics made for you and your style
7th class: fake your suicide (and pricing your soul)
8th class: (optional) the messianic paradigm
9th class: your art is everything and why
10th class: individuality and its existence
11th class: decorative art and sexuality
12th class: politics of the imagination
plastic waffle
Dear You,
>
> the man on the street stares at his lovely lovely city. building by
> building. and figures on reasons enough to climb the side of it.
> hang his self out over the scene. fingers dug into concrete, a
> little expert at nooks and crannies.. cranny? hair in the breeze an
> upside childhood swing at its max, blood rushing down his face .
> have a nice day, atlanta!
> He is a self Serving stage walker with a big circle of light
> guiding or following his tophat, double breasted tweed shagmohair
> human scalp black and white burlap jacket, in his stride.a tux with
> a painted face. a shadow of figures he pretends are there. a cane
> to twirl, made of brown thrasher bones tied together. an old tree
> with a strong limb. that knows some old stories.
> Introducing! The Civil Rights Museum of Co-cola company.With
> Special Guests! brought to you by home depot and a couple of big
> dumb fish.( lumber on some guy's head... aisle two.)
> yes thats right! taste our co-cola products in road deesh...er uum,
> i mean zimbabwe! come further...
> faith says them kittens in the oven is biscuits. trust us!
> logic says im goin ter git me a big sharp stick ann one day im
> gointer fix that pivot bass on my cannon. (overlooking his city).
> yes, yes. there are castles in atlanta. ancient old castles with
> mothballs and money stuffed away.we're like that old atari
> game...warlords? "where you from?" aint no country i know! this
> here country is gone.
> but my eyes are gone. jabbed with little things. from jabbing my
> mother with a bigger one. so this is my home now. atlanta. stagger
> stagger, drip drip. i stab you some more with my thing. make you drip.
> (overheard)but i like pretty stone mountain and its organ thing
> that echoes and stuff. six flags kicked eff-in "ass". scitrek used
> to be ...okay. fernbank was okay. the cyclorama was dumb.(big
> painting, yesyes). i liked the zoo. the museum was boring. Come See
> The North Georgia Mountains! (they sher are perty this time uh yeer.)
> so here it is . i rip my tummy open and out falls stuffing.
> its a poem: the opening act. The sharp stick and the loose
> cannon, by jeff d.
> the goal is to promote a sense of community amongst artists. hmmmm.
> we applaud ourselves. this is not the poem yet. so stop reading
> like it is:okay. now start reading, like you are reading a poem. it
> is easy. just tilt yr head a bit and make a slightly (this is
> subtle, now) more serious expression. on occassion, nod slowly.
> maybe shift the weight of yr buttcheeks from one to the other.
> poetry. loose cannons sharp sticks something like that...
> okay.
> A Gathering Mass of Strange Twine. Special Guests brought to you in
> part by our sponsor, special guest smiles,inc. a shimmering mass of
> text broken down into its fundamentals,little letters, different
> colors.red yellow and blue floatiing in the air. shimmering minds
> in a closed curcuit time. love like snakes and strange nods for
> sake a tombstone cradle, a cubicle capturing wake. a child
> laughing. listening as we age. Caring & Showing! We are Now
> Thinking! doing it for yrself makes you happy. knowing you dont
> belong to yr own greater goal is self awareness. success is
> radiating a comfort withyourself...being yrself. artistic success
> is when your vision transfers this. but no one asked you to go into
> public with it. that wasnt the poem.
> i want to invite you to an exhibit that is all about you.
> and i mean. you. Me?...you might be saying...yes "You".
> not me. you. yr whats important. atlanta artists. silly me.
>
> eggtooth ist rad.
>
> the man on the street stares at his lovely lovely city. building by
> building. and figures on reasons enough to climb the side of it.
> hang his self out over the scene. fingers dug into concrete, a
> little expert at nooks and crannies.. cranny? hair in the breeze an
> upside childhood swing at its max, blood rushing down his face .
> have a nice day, atlanta!
> He is a self Serving stage walker with a big circle of light
> guiding or following his tophat, double breasted tweed shagmohair
> human scalp black and white burlap jacket, in his stride.a tux with
> a painted face. a shadow of figures he pretends are there. a cane
> to twirl, made of brown thrasher bones tied together. an old tree
> with a strong limb. that knows some old stories.
> Introducing! The Civil Rights Museum of Co-cola company.With
> Special Guests! brought to you by home depot and a couple of big
> dumb fish.( lumber on some guy's head... aisle two.)
> yes thats right! taste our co-cola products in road deesh...er uum,
> i mean zimbabwe! come further...
> faith says them kittens in the oven is biscuits. trust us!
> logic says im goin ter git me a big sharp stick ann one day im
> gointer fix that pivot bass on my cannon. (overlooking his city).
> yes, yes. there are castles in atlanta. ancient old castles with
> mothballs and money stuffed away.we're like that old atari
> game...warlords? "where you from?" aint no country i know! this
> here country is gone.
> but my eyes are gone. jabbed with little things. from jabbing my
> mother with a bigger one. so this is my home now. atlanta. stagger
> stagger, drip drip. i stab you some more with my thing. make you drip.
> (overheard)but i like pretty stone mountain and its organ thing
> that echoes and stuff. six flags kicked eff-in "ass". scitrek used
> to be ...okay. fernbank was okay. the cyclorama was dumb.(big
> painting, yesyes). i liked the zoo. the museum was boring. Come See
> The North Georgia Mountains! (they sher are perty this time uh yeer.)
> so here it is . i rip my tummy open and out falls stuffing.
> its a poem: the opening act. The sharp stick and the loose
> cannon, by jeff d.
> the goal is to promote a sense of community amongst artists. hmmmm.
> we applaud ourselves. this is not the poem yet. so stop reading
> like it is:okay. now start reading, like you are reading a poem. it
> is easy. just tilt yr head a bit and make a slightly (this is
> subtle, now) more serious expression. on occassion, nod slowly.
> maybe shift the weight of yr buttcheeks from one to the other.
> poetry. loose cannons sharp sticks something like that...
> okay.
> A Gathering Mass of Strange Twine. Special Guests brought to you in
> part by our sponsor, special guest smiles,inc. a shimmering mass of
> text broken down into its fundamentals,little letters, different
> colors.red yellow and blue floatiing in the air. shimmering minds
> in a closed curcuit time. love like snakes and strange nods for
> sake a tombstone cradle, a cubicle capturing wake. a child
> laughing. listening as we age. Caring & Showing! We are Now
> Thinking! doing it for yrself makes you happy. knowing you dont
> belong to yr own greater goal is self awareness. success is
> radiating a comfort withyourself...being yrself. artistic success
> is when your vision transfers this. but no one asked you to go into
> public with it. that wasnt the poem.
> i want to invite you to an exhibit that is all about you.
> and i mean. you. Me?...you might be saying...yes "You".
> not me. you. yr whats important. atlanta artists. silly me.
>
> eggtooth ist rad.
iM YOU
I will end on a serious note: If we are a driven city and want to have "real sustaining" international status we need serious patrons and galleries and a true focused vision.
Ha! That won't happen.
nice convo. heres another way. its a poem i just made up
it is called: I Am Afraid I Am Nothing
i am afraid i am nothing more than you.
i am afraid i am nothing
more than you.
so there.
i wanted to say something about running into a room with a blindfold. swinging a knife.
doing nothing hitting nothing being nothing
will you join me?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
