BEDFORD ROCKERS

;p

2012-01-06T16:54:00.007-05:00

we'll fox with her theyn/

get u sum/

2012-01-06T13:48:00.000-05:00

try n smuggle it.

2012-01-05T06:56:00.001-05:00

“If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.”

of.

2012-01-05T06:51:00.002-05:00

OF 001 ø www.iiieiii.wordpress.com

ATTAKE Episode 008.

2011-12-21T20:49:00.010-05:00

...Day |, |X||&|'itidytw7.

-Growing tired of attic decor. drearible.
-Staqin on shiqirt. ([{Word}, nothing more] sexually related)
-nice use of comma.
-change photo of Krims Hamsmutter on couch with Krim Hammsmutter's brother... Shelby (mrrduklestrum).
Night CRICK SOUND COUNT tally- 1570dew - to Too2:many'ixty/twu.
-verbatum imaculurlerl skills recap.
EH HEM.. (exhale), BREATHE ME UP DEEPLY
IF NEED BE,
-PLEASE SEE.
=READ
"REUP WEEKLY"
IM OUT .

...
.
FIND FUME.
MIND
GO VROOM
L
IKE BEEP BEEP.

-cool i still got it.
-compulsion towards moving to my left.
the days grow shorter and soon midgets will seem odd and uneventful.

mother lets me keep the sound of a baby bird truffle feather waving faucet rip. drip for 2 hours ' thicss months.
will

fascinations with the fantastical/ existances... tenses sytancsays..

such as that of my own.

...(please electronic message me))
and
the knowmb
that lives.. hechh Chechhh..
XCUSE ME...
excite me.

GOTH

2011-12-21T20:32:00.005-05:00

HARD BOTTLED HEAT

2011-11-18T14:22:00.005-05:00

POSITION YOUR EYES

MOVE OV FORCE CONSOOM

PURSUE

I AM OV

www.twitter.com/ofthus

OV POWER

OFV PLEASURE OF PAIN

OF WORTH

OVF NERVE

OF PURPOSE

OFV VIE
Of VIEW

THUS AIM

ENOUFG IS

OV ILL

O((

2011-09-05T17:05:00.003-04:00

STAY SHUN COME &
~XALMBEExZSOMBIE~

What I am really concerned about is what art is supposed to be - and can become.
~B. Nauman

('

2011-08-02T05:39:00.001-04:00

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

the world is such a splendid space

2011-08-02T05:32:00.001-04:00

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

2011-07-03T19:27:00.004-04:00

Tell she As we...
Lay on your side, aiming your nose at the ceiling, leaving your arms to a suggested arrangement.
We have joined to rid our heads of the thoughts and fears, as we enter reflections, unearthing an inner healing.
Stay on your left, facing the wall, there’s no deceiving the oncoming pause of our fading surroundings.
Fold your legs into a part of a sign that will appear as a shifting perspective of its basic interpretation.
Shake these worries and words you are shielding. Go behind your eyes. We are weighing the things that you’re taking from you as you leave, as you begin to believe in expanses of duplicate sections and carbon faces

2011-07-03T19:27:00.000-04:00

idk

2011-06-27T22:14:00.003-04:00

http://soundcloud.com/idkidkidk

X<>

2011-03-26T00:23:00.008-04:00

eus christ..
wrong diplo.
small world.
..

lots of mikx ups like that been happenin.
ust little kuhhh winky dinks.////

like take the other day for example.

after years of utilizing the internet.
it occurred that snotty might have a twitter.

and behold.

and he and i are like e and i.

use'd to be all in the eyes.

now it's all in the ease.
which are 3's honest sighed.
i mein. double yous..
to be.
.

nah actually... real i is us.?

know?
now.
ps. doesn't dude realize he needs you.
if only to say he doesn't need you.

i need know one.

Moving on

2011-03-24T16:27:00.001-04:00

^

2011-03-20T12:31:00.000-04:00

um..
i think.
http://nettiesmind.blogspot.com/

2011-03-20T02:49:00.005-04:00

....

if you're name rhymes with diplo.

i don't like you.

not even cause you're diplo.

just cause

i need someone to not like ...

and they said you.

and i'm soo me.

and i don't need to ride any of them commercial waves nigga.

i don't even know what they fucking look like...

except you going down tempo bass like i did in 2005.

didn't even release that shit.

didn't need to.

stay checking my shit son.

i know florida niggas who sonned you who.

i know ny niggers who owned you 10 years ago.

trying not to give dap like you birfed your delf.

fuck outta the planet.

..

these is just words..

...

you can do some nelly fertado justin timberlake, gucci mane, FT> michael jackson madonna remix shit.

and ima be like....

..

yall makin it too easy...

it's not fair./

øøøøøøøøøøøø

&//////

2011-03-18T15:54:00.004-04:00

I have all the power in the world.

fear me.

or love me.

it matters.

I rode waves before the water touched the sea.

Don't keep writing about me.

or do.

keep talking about me.

in your mind..

I have everything I need.

Cut off my arms, legs,
stuff me in a closet,

bury me alive.

and I'll have everything I need.

-.m.e

¬¬¬¬£©ƒ

2011-03-02T04:40:00.006-05:00

3,4
31,31,
89-91.
only pages ripped out for delf.

2011-03-02T04:19:00.002-05:00

tare.
roar.
birds.
ever.
re-wear.

low fives happen.

i've been forced to partake.

)))((

2011-03-02T03:57:00.003-05:00

(Editing Kate - Film 1) TOMORROW NIGHT WE'LL GO ANYWHERE from .

&†ø

2011-03-02T03:55:00.000-05:00

Devendra Banhart at the Rainbow House - Director's Cut from Oliver Peoples on Vimeo.

(III)

2011-03-02T03:24:00.002-05:00

fork eyeyeyeyeyes
4 guise
in it if or rent i as i is.

*and the sun rayed

2011-02-17T05:42:00.007-05:00

http://shrink4men.wordpress.com/2009/02/17/why-men-are-attracted-to-crazy-emotionally-abusive-women/
.
.
..
.
*and the sun rayed

_i

2011-02-15T06:23:00.007-05:00

i can only trust there's know limit.

speed has gorgeously led me to and away from these words.

they breath to ease this marker,
which at some point leaves blurs

empty pocked window shopper,
heartbroken with his kids ,
passing by the toy store,
staring at the nothing he only gives

must not he know to dedicate the name bearing stake
which claims to that which
musn't show what's his

only is it so that
i know this
which of is

the pieces fall faster, in place,
at a pace faster than which past occurs,
at the feet of where what now exists, is.

and was
fist imagined,
unmasked
& at last
conjured.

passed while traces of questions answerd,
are asked.

I'm at the point where numbers
are romanced, and matched
the very second that it makes sense
to hold hands,
and ultimately commence the slow dance,
with itself,
math concurs (and throws back)

i am experiencing the culmination of a piled up trash view obscured,
baffled birds attracted rats instects vanish and odor turns
all of which
has now been compacted and conquered.

revealing the scenic path
showing that gravity laughs at the falling
seeing divers reach reef's to deep
to hear the kind hearted storm calling

dry sand doesn't brace itself in pre-empting the sea's worst wrath
happens this empty beach, sure-feet and calm earth crashed;

I'm standing on the driver's seat
Arms resting on the sun roof shirt trapped.
In a foriegn world safari that is an unending maze
long passed surrendering to astonishment's ways

feeling
so perfectly served
so right and deserved,

my life was has no sole mate
my heart need's nothingness to dance with yours

much like these sayings need spaces to punctuate the words.

i no longer look in a mirror seeing all behind me amazed
it feels comfortable not wearing any hat that covers every man's craze;

and while spectacle of the comet that blazed to stage performed
and runs in the circle to be unmade.

the sum of the square root of negative one
was discussed by two strangers over dinner
and attracted others who played.

still playing.....

i never stayed.

but all was still.
and it still is.
until

-mew

and the sun raised.

Night Blooming Cereus

2011-02-09T05:51:00.004-05:00

i ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd;dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd

fe;lll aslleep.

+++

2011-01-20T06:05:00.003-05:00

/

2011-01-09T07:24:00.001-05:00

|^|

2011-01-09T07:21:00.001-05:00

--------========EEEEEEEEEEEE

2011-01-09T07:20:00.000-05:00

_______________________

2010-12-08T05:20:00.002-05:00

please find her for me.
thanks.
1:23.
+onward

john you.
thief.

/..........}

2010-12-03T00:07:00.006-05:00

tune & see.
.

no sleep.

knows leap.

nose silly yep.

((((8))))))

2010-12-02T09:22:00.001-05:00

what,
is,
genius.
do,
we,
genius.
does,
he
genius.

mheard her.

2010-12-02T06:21:00.003-05:00

currently listening to machinedrum's
'murder ring'

fuck all of you.

|||:::

2010-11-26T17:40:00.006-05:00

/>

mettle metal met ill mental men

.
.

.

2010-11-23T04:40:00.000-05:00

singing us into a kind of sleep we hadn't tried yet.

Each page was a new chance to understand the last.

David Berman

Share |

Read poems about /

(-------||_______

2010-11-22T00:50:00.003-05:00

.Ny=
Theme owest fun.
after,after,
the after,
party.

file under. visiting your heart.

_.._-...--___

2010-11-18T05:25:00.000-05:00

P-----

2010-11-18T02:03:00.002-05:00

'A collected poems' is either a gravestone or a testimonial to survival.

At a certain age you're always uncertain how other people will take you.

For me, the vast marvel is to be alive. For man, or for flowers or beast or bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly and perfectly alive.

yezr

2010-11-07T22:51:00.001-05:00

OOOO from iiieiii on Vimeo.

)))))

2010-11-07T22:30:00.000-05:00

{{{{{ from iiieiii on Vimeo.

::::::

2010-11-04T01:31:00.001-04:00

not it yet

2010-11-04T01:28:00.001-04:00

[[[{{{

2010-11-04T01:04:00.002-04:00

annoying.
toys noise
Stairing.
un.
fair.

___((^))_

2010-10-23T07:03:00.001-04:00

MY
Key

.,.........

2010-10-23T00:07:00.002-04:00

Mai Envy
My NV.

Breakin.

Promises too.
sell.if,
Feels.
Juust.
WRrrite.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

Ø(n ø(/)

2010-10-22T06:12:00.001-04:00

Y.

Yes

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

»«««()

2010-10-22T05:54:00.001-04:00

Local low kill hello call

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

^_______

2010-10-22T01:35:00.001-04:00

Willhe
Milly
Burn

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

IIiiiii

2010-10-21T03:38:00.001-04:00

Fee males fore higher

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

..._....

2010-10-19T18:31:00.001-04:00

Mile say weigh

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

______._

2010-10-18T04:28:00.001-04:00

nun
nuther

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

UUUU

2010-10-14T00:34:00.002-04:00

the we
we seek
See cue.
who
seek the

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

(0)())

2010-10-11T16:33:00.002-04:00

HEY Little Gentlemen!

Having a good Time I Hope

..

..
.

((((*

2010-10-10T17:08:00.001-04:00

/||

2010-10-10T16:20:00.002-04:00

What's the greatest picture you didn't take?

My work is about ideas not actual moments that I catch or miss so in that way there are no pictures I have never taken...I plan to shoot all my ideas.

Which photographer would you most like to (a) work with and (b) talent spot.

I am not interested in working with or talent spotting another photographer great or small.

What keeps you awake at night?

Nothing.

If you hadn't have become a photographer what would you have like to have been?

A painter.

Do you have a life philosophy?

No.

How do you germinate ideas for your work?

By drawing.

You in three words.

Colourful, sunny, dark.

What advice would you give to your 16-year-old self?

"Don't listen to advice

///////

2010-10-10T15:11:00.006-04:00

diefone.x.posedd

deletged.

Be you, k?

2010-10-10T01:45:00.001-04:00

Buk

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

2010-10-07T15:34:00.004-04:00

VIE KING

hAVEr/half reddy

2010-10-03T01:36:00.002-04:00

Her_reed

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

stay 2 inned.

2010-10-02T17:26:00.006-04:00

When they have everything to lose... my condolences.

She,s they,re

2010-10-02T13:36:00.003-04:00

mare.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.1

LLL

2010-10-01T06:45:00.004-04:00

she . &
he. Each
like the. itch

°°°°_

2010-10-01T06:39:00.001-04:00

A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate.

x0.«]]

2010-10-01T03:21:00.002-04:00

Infactyouwayshun.

doubt farmers

2010-10-01T03:19:00.002-04:00

zZOINKS!

2010-09-27T18:53:00.001-04:00

____

2010-09-27T18:47:00.001-04:00

writing

often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
can
match it.

nothing can save
you
except
writing.

it keeps the walls
from
failing.
the hordes from
closing in.

it blasts the
darkness.

writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,

the kindliest
god of all the
gods.

writing stalks
death.
it knows no
quit.

and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.

it is the last
expectation,
the last
explanation.

that's
what it
is

(=|\\/||=-)

2010-09-27T11:31:00.001-04:00

* The Duc de Blangis – aged fifty, an aristocrat who acquired his wealth by poisoning his mother for the purposes of inheritance, prescribing the same fate to his sister when she found out about his plot. Blangis is described as being tall, strongly built and highly sexually potent, although it is emphasized that he is a complete coward, and proud of it too.

* The Bishop (l’Évêque) – Blangis' brother. He is forty-five, a scrawny and weak man, "with a nasty mouth." He is passionate about anal sex and, even when having sex with women and girls, he refuses to have vaginal intercourse with them.

* The Président de Curval – aged sixty, a tall and lanky man, "frightfully dirty about his body and attaching voluptuousness thereto." He is a judge and used to enjoy handing out death sentences to defendants he knew to be innocent.

-

2010-09-25T16:34:00.001-04:00

Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.
Rudyard Kipling

/()|\()

2010-09-25T14:47:00.001-04:00

HAHAHAhahahaha

2010-09-25T14:08:00.001-04:00

HAhahahahahaha]apohahgaghahgahuahgahahjahahahahaha
ahahahahAHhahhaHaHaHa\A\AHAHA\JHAHAHAHAHAHHAHahHahaha
hahyahHAHAHAHABHABABBABABHABABHABGAAABHAHAHAH
\hahahahHAHhHAHAHAHhahha

||||||||||

2010-09-24T03:12:00.001-04:00

Ja'mie Luca

\.
...
.
If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris
as a young man,
then wherever you go for the rest of your life
it stays with you,
for Paris
is a moveable
feast.
-Ernest Hemingway
...
.

nonpareil mine

2010-09-24T02:52:00.002-04:00

Hey Moon .
.
.
It's just
.
you and me. tonight.
.

(----+---)

2010-09-24T02:33:00.002-04:00

It’s getting late
It’s getting dark
In the end of the night I can feel your warmth
Come up close
Close to me
Coz In the end of the night I can feel you breathe
Don’t be afraid
Don’t be alarmed
In the end of the night you’re in my arms
I’m on my bed
My bed of stones
But in the end of the night we’ll rest our bones
So don’t you worry
Just rest your head
Coz in the end of the night we’ll be together again
You don’t need to worry
I’ll make your bed
And in the end of the night I can hold your hand
So come close, close to me
And I’ll come closer to you
Coz in the end of the night when all we have is gone
Yes in the end of the night when I can be with you

(+)

2010-09-23T21:48:00.001-04:00

don't forget

there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.

keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.

meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am—
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.

&ed

2010-09-23T16:13:00.009-04:00

word.
Will,
word.

2010-09-02T23:16:00.000-04:00

oh

2010-08-29T22:02:00.000-04:00

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997)

Howl

For Carl Solomon

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,

who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,

who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses' rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium,

who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,

Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

II

What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

III

Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland

where you're madder than I am

I'm with you in Rockland

where you must feel strange

I'm with you in Rockland

where you imitate the shade of my mother

I'm with you in Rockland

where you've murdered your twelve secretaries

I'm with you in Rockland

where you laugh at this invisible humour

I'm with you in Rockland

where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I'm with you in Rockland

where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I'm with you in Rockland

where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

I'm with you in Rockland

where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I'm with you in Rockland

where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I'm with you in Rockland

where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss

I'm with you in Rockland

where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I'm with you in Rockland

where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I'm with you in Rockland

where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

I'm with you in Rockland

where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

I'm with you in Rockland

where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

I'm with you in Rockland

where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep

I'm with you in Rockland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free

I'm with you in Rockland

in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

makeitbahrain

2010-08-24T16:18:00.000-04:00

AYSHAY

2010-08-21T05:51:00.000-04:00

Fatima Al Qadiri
Fatima Al Qadiri
Fatima Al Qadiri

"People that are really very weird can get into sensitive positions and have a tremendous impact on history."
...Governor George W. Bush, Jr.

christian marclay

2010-08-16T03:28:00.000-04:00

ov

2010-08-06T21:32:00.001-04:00

his
facial
expressions

555

2010-08-06T20:16:00.000-04:00

CFCF - see f c on f.

|=

2010-08-06T01:23:00.000-04:00

Not such
the talisman of Eli’s name,
But Eli had,
in place of empty fame.
The unresting soul,
the resolution high
That shuts out every thought
but victory.
Whate’er his goal,
nor mercy nor dismay
He owned,
but drew the sword
and cleft his way:
Pressed each advantage
that his fortune gave;
Constrained the stars
to combat for the brave;
Swept from his path
whate’er his rise delayed,
And marched triumphant
through the wreck he made.

Lll

2010-08-05T23:01:00.007-04:00

~

2010-08-05T19:32:00.002-04:00

~B.Now Man

|||L

2010-08-05T19:31:00.000-04:00

)(

2010-08-04T22:55:00.000-04:00

R+ADD

2010-08-04T22:17:00.002-04:00

Burn Ignite :: Ride :: feat Steve Berra (OFFICIAL HD) from Burn Ignite on .

radical
dick call lick all..

deaf in it illy. or ADDICT ILL

=-09999

2010-08-03T01:39:00.001-04:00

www

2010-08-01T04:05:00.001-04:00

Nothing can have as its destination anything other than its origin. The contrary idea, the idea of progress, is poison.

Pleasure only starts once the worm has got into the fruit, to become delightful happiness must be tainted with poison

($^*^

2010-07-30T01:44:00.000-04:00

''''''''''''''''\'|

2010-07-30T00:35:00.002-04:00

[[[[[

2010-07-23T00:28:00.001-04:00

oio

2010-07-22T23:30:00.001-04:00

-----*

2010-07-21T02:40:00.002-04:00

The Jelly is at:

TWO MINUTES
8TEEN 2NDS

..

=--

2010-07-19T03:31:00.002-04:00

Damir///what happened...
Boris is it.

''

2010-07-19T03:16:00.000-04:00

NEW J.L

from on .

|||

2010-07-14T07:57:00.006-04:00

BEDFORD ROCKERS

;p

get u sum/

of.

ATTAKE Episode 008.

GOTH

HARD BOTTLED HEAT

O((

('

the world is such a splendid space

idk

X<>

Moving on

^

&//////

¬¬¬¬£©ƒ

)))((

&†ø

(III)

*and the sun rayed

_i

Night Blooming Cereus

+++

/

|^|

--------========EEEEEEEEEEEE

_______________________

/..........}

((((8))))))

mheard her.

|||:::

(-------__||_________

_.._-...--___

P-----

yezr

)))))

::::::

not it yet

[[[{{{

_____((^))___

.,.........

Ø(n ø(/)

»«««()

__^_________

IIiiiii

..._....

________.___

UUUU

(0)())

((((*

/||

///////

Be you, k?

hAVEr/half reddy

stay 2 inned.

She,s they,re

LLL

°°°°_

x0.«]]

doubt farmers

zZOINKS!

____

(=|\\/||=-)

-

/()|\()

HAHAHAhahahaha

||||||||||

nonpareil mine

(----+---)

(+)

&ed

oh

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997)

Howl

makeitbahrain

AYSHAY

christian marclay

ov

555

|=

(-------||_______

___((^))_

^_______

______._