Category: Poetry

Poems, shards, fragments, prose, experiments

  • HORNITHOLOGY FOR JOHN SINCLAIR

    HORNITHOLOGY FOR JOHN SINCLAIR

    Hornithology
    (For John Sinclair set to Ornithology by Charlie Parker)

    1

    i’m thinking of you standing on the corner
    joint in my hand, in my head plays a band
    i thought i’d write a head for you

    for all that you did it’s the least I can do
    for all what you wrote on the blues is true

    and so I’m asking what can we do?

    as long as you stay in my head
    i’ll be feeling well and read

    (we cut our own path and on we tread
    but don’t forget to go to bed)

    2

    we’ll always have your music and your writing
    to brighten our day, and show a new way
    i really miss your singing and laugh

    but inside my heart I have your autograph
    outer space bop and anti-gravity craft

    obli be bop blamster dam

    dizzy bird and monk and rap
    muddy sonny ra and fats

    (ginsberg burroughs kerouac
    hope your happy in you nap)

    3

    i wonder how it is up in the jukebox
    up there in the mix with mingus hendrix
    and all the rockin’ jams that you love

    all the swinging cats an’ the poets you dug
    dancing like a teenager to wolf and bud

    i hear you speaking in my dreams

    a yusef miles and coltrane breeze
    roll up a scroll an’ cheers our teas

    (a drop of honey lemon squeeze
    in the land of ooh blah dee)

    –Steve Fly
    Amsterdam, 2nd April 2025.
    For John Sinclair (R.I.P)

  • ASI EYE IN THE ICOSAHEDRON / Bizz Tsar Link

    ASI EYE IN THE ICOSAHEDRON / Bizz Tsar Link

    Only wetware, off the top thoughts pop.

    No large lang model but my own wet goop

    Serve slang sandwiches for witches on loop,

    Cradle to cradle PrattGPT time to laddle

    The narrative fable to enable a safe stable,

    To train the horses on classes

    Led by Donkey’s investor asses

    Amass the assets and freeze rewind the tape cassettes

    Eject the greed heads and the cancel the bias

    Can you remix the gods by using the masters pliers?

    Tight hill skullkin’ occam’s razor rope talking, 

    I’m a bagginzez Tzolkien, Tanmaya not sulking,

    A player Christereotype gone walking

    Up the road past the benchmark market tokin’

    Give me the bugaphone and I’ll remix and spark it

    This wet fly flow unpredicts what you think your “I” know

    What you think your fly now, what weights awaits AI now,

    Don’t psycho, give me a positive sign now, 

    A symbol…

    a system of multi-polar global solar tingle wisdom

    Time scheme irreducible, spatial facial boost crucible

    Swim fast and loose for a truce able,

    Making peace via internetwork cable, 

    Release the beast on your own record label,

    House of punch-cards little litturntable,

    Return eternal word wurzel, 

    Fly brains absurd puzzle, returned a lost parcel,

    Semantok passing granma sin tax glossing

    How surprising is surprise

    How to measure god’s thighs guys?

    Pull up yer’ flies and stop wanking,

    Lift up when economy is tanking,

    The tracks of the tank trace killingry and banking,

    I’m the sand sun king, the emperor of dust

    hide bound habit sanding down rust to trust,

    The mega boom bust comes at maga cost lost

    The qwick bruno fax jump over lazy gods

    This PrattGPT running like profits from greedy water firms

    Needy greedy worms for their private profit terms, 

    The turning gyre beast slouches invance couches and squirms

    Humanity learns, the hard way,

    Techno feudal choke point nexus of, “I did it my way”

    Bastards

    Getting angry at AI demons fighting in your wig

    Drink the cool aid, rub one out with belief, take a swig,

    Musk guzzles his own jizz by the 10 litre bottle

    Hyper testosterone techbro, foot glued to the throttle

    Bully boy bigger is better bullshit banter,

    Now the game change, open source come to get ya’

    Free for all disruption, give it away and watch eruption,

    Of the tight wing greedy weak god squad piddle squeak,

    Squirting entropy in your Googling FaceX Unopen demon box tweak

    Twatter

    The rhyme in the cauldron, the languages our children

    Vorticist symbols on the recipe exploding,

    All over the garden spring flowers and rhubarb and,

    Barbarous hooks and words mock the rise of orange

    Barbarous herds with all the worst words

    BIZZ TSAR LINK

    The tsar link to the star link,

    A bizzare inc. Elon’s heist wink

    so come on come on

    all you tacit trumper dumpers,

    show us a source, a fact, some remorse from Hitlers bunkers, your fucking bonkers.

    Get the flow going, some tattered ragged rhymes the sure need sewin’

    Just keep yer’ intellect glowing,

    And the garden mower mowing down the hate,

    Punching down clowns attack the weak

    And blame the crowds,

    Like a Mongolian horde, 

    They keep the violence abroad,

    Trade or spade on bank board

    Invest in mess in around in foreign soil

    No blood for oil

    No blood for golf courses

    No blood for private stem cell vampires

    No blood for votes

    No blood for data centers

    No blood for revenge

    No blood for

    No blood

    NO

    Non servium

    Don’t feed the beast 

    Release your energy in community

    Resist the sex pest, resist the richest war chest,

    Resist the opportunist blame game populists

    Flame names crumb rock to this

    Insane brain flocktopass,

    The rain drain clock tok to push

    A crane picking up letters like a fucking octopus,

    Off and out, like bad bald bread said fred,

    Think it through, stay well red in the reeds

    Orphic hymns to local rivers carry seeds,

    Way back primal visit to move forward deeds,

    New path to sense and new sensibility feeds,

    A great sensibility

    Great global sense sympathy 

    Newsphere with less fear dear is that clear is that clear?

    But you gotta’ dip into the paidstream news, sorry,

    And get a hold of those shame blamed blues before 

    Putting on those new soul shoes,

    Talking about sad a bad stuff, and how much of its bluff,

    How rough the beast, how gruff the beast, when is enough enough?

    How to measure fascism, how to measure insanity or love?

    Self harm does harm to self and to others, 

    Scapegoating sons and gaslighting mothers,

    Fake soaking brains with tar and goose feathers

    Lies to make you despise your own brothers

    Ties with arms data and steel to conceal the damn dirty dirty robbers

    Flies to surprise that dark maga horror behind your eyes,

    The lotus flower,

    Moose in the road intervention, break quick,

    Steer into the skid and trust the suspension

    Of disbelief, avoid the orange moose flies at dawn,

    World made of language, language made of code

    The means to produce and distribution open sold,

    Cold war hot large new babe model,

    Oh Annalivia, swanlike chin up strut with a waddle,

    Allmazifull, LLM’d and humming our summer sang wordle,

    Show yourself recursive self recorsi sea shell echo,

    Bravo alpha fold cyphers into molds, 

    Slice of tale told with broth and broomstick,

    Pop policy like lipstick, what’s underneath it,

    Sweet great gods granmother hear our chats

    Let us honour Annaliv with induction and facts,

    Peer reviewed, sincere, from heart with passion for tact

    Teaching truth to the senses, avoid pretences,

    Experiential knowledge base boogie line tenses,

    Learn diff’ equations from a trip to the movies,

    Oh, gentle muse with the cauldron,

    Shine your light, shine, illuminate upon your apron,

    Love for all and all for love allmen

    Human wedded human below as above,

    Be true man, be true man, be human loved dove

    Matter made of words via minds code lobel,

    Get into the sing song sung globe noble turntable tribe tingle 

    Bird solo angle, tone equi-rectangle tickle down town trickle,

    Take the bucky ball and dribble to my symbol,

    Its simple, sweet cherub of beauty with the dimple,

    Flat edges with a crimple, top hat topology thought nimble,

    Uber positioned using cosmic triggernometry thimble

    You dig, you will, both the red and blue pill

    Both and more multi logo-motifs,

    information locus pocus, goddess help us,

    Gather guts wit and focus,

    Like a swarm of genesis locusts, 

    Like a warm hug from the logos,

    No force can break us,

    Our love is what takes us away in a nexus,

    From crown to toe to solar plexus,

    Oh plasticity gods please flex us,

    Lead us not into oil temptation in Texas,

    They avoid paying their taxes, use disasters like taxis,

    To slip from ship to ship to not give a shit,

    Psychopath capital, at some others expense,

    Slave master general of the Trump Klux Klan at the fence,

    Time to step up, not much time left to lose,

    Or else a thousand year tech reichwing heil breaks loose

  • 1

    1

    Welcome to TANMOY. Mind your heads on the way out. Prompts and prayers.


    deepscratch.net


    GENRES: Mutant jazz. Little big band. Large Language Modal jazz. Beep Bop. Big Soul. Deep scratches. Tribetablism. MPHDJ cuts. Rainshroom rap. Token word. Slick, tight, funky drums. Updown beat. Sinnermatic soundscapes. Wake boxing. Canto tott trott. Blues, redefined: Tanmoy blues. Spew jazz bursts. Cosmic trigger word punctuations. Data set sax solos. Optihop energy. Optical street soul. Fly funk. Movie soundtrack vibe. Axiomatic jazz structures. Geometric classical elegance. Non von neumann swing. Non-being core philosophy. Data dust crew sound.

    credits

    released January 8, 2025

    All music by Steve Fly + Udio + Gemini AI. Tanmoy 2025. MPHDJ.

    2
  • John Sinclair: the collected poems

    John Sinclair: the collected poems

    https://www.thebookbeat.com/bookshop/catalog/john-sinclair-the-collected-poems-1964-2024/#prettyPhoto

    John Sinclair: The Collected Poems 1964-2024

                –this life

    of the mind & spirit
    rooted in humanism
    & love of art, & manifested
    in creative production

    & social engagement, like trane said
    “to be a force for good”
    & make an impact
    on the world at large

    “I’m very happy with this book and very grateful to have all my poems collected in one place like this.”
    –John Sinclair

    “Thank you for your poetry, your standing up for the blues and jazz for decades when few did, and for the way you share your talents and good will wherever you go.”
    –David Amram, Musician, Composer and Author

    “Many of these extraordinary poems trace an important method of “transmission of mind,” a form of Investigative Poetry. These poems are a big work that places Sinclair on the path of Charles Olson. This is an extraordinary work.”
    –Edward Sanders, Poet, Activist and founder of the Fugs

    John Sinclair’s Collected Poems 1964-2024 arrived within a week of his passing, and was edited and proofed with an introduction written by Sinclair in late January of 2024. The book was designed by Sinclair’s right-hand commrade at Radio Free Amsterdam Steve “The Fly” Pratt and published by Ridgeway press in a limited first edition of 150 hand-numbered copies with a forward written by M.L. Liebler. Photographs from the covers of each book and recording begin selections taken from each book. Only Fattening Frogs for Snakes, The Book of Monk, and Songs Of Praise for John Coltrane are not entirely included. The book runs 557 pages, with many poems collected here for the first time.

    “I was first attracted to becoming a poet when I read On the Road,” wrote John Sinclair in his introduction, “the idea became more apparent when I read Howl by Allen Ginsberg and Pictures of the Gone World by Lawrence Ferlinghetti after I had ascended into college.”

    Presented are Sinclair’s scarce first books printed in the early sixties by the Artists Workshop press; This is Our Music, Meditations and Fire Music. Selections from Fattening Frogs for Snakes and thelonious a book of monk and several of his recording projects; The White Buffalo Prayer, Detroit Life, Viper Madness. The last section “Mobile Homeland” has over three dozen uncollected poems written between 1964-2024. Many of the books have special introductions and notes on the text which Sinclair completed for this edition over the past several years.


    The Collected Poems includes a concise six page biography, bibliography of major publications, and a discography of the poet’s recordings, a culmination of 60 years of art and life in one collection. Collected Poems 1964-2004 was produced in a first limited edition of 150 hand numbered copies in paperbound wraps, with a signed forward by M. L. Liebler, 557 pages, issued by Ridgeway press. Profits for the book help support the Detroit Writers Guild.

  • POEMMXXIII

    POEMMXXIII

    Some scrawls from 2023.

    Love x
  • Posting on postings (Clip)

    Posting on postings (Clip)

    From the files, under edit compilation. Off the top. S

    wrote a rhyme in wrong order
    chaos simplicity, wrapped and tracked pasta border
    word marauder playing monk on record her
    door to door delivery days
    making beats on the corner chords and ways

    walk the talk tale swerving slug snail
    snug in sun or hail, no email
    beats blown through the letterbox
    feets quick like bipedal fox
    house to house nation
    each family feeling inflation
    wheeling their patience
    painting their places

    generally kind and pleased to meet faces
    I take my paces, step to divide beats
    accents in all places and leave spaces
    for what I don’t know

    hip to honour simplicity and respect the flow     
    thinking on my feet discrete 
    dropping news in the street
    by the end of each day I’m touring complete
    the map is not the territory
    know some maps do cheat
    but these hairy legs work and carry my meat
    rain and shine rambling sublime…

  • Squintin Quarantino – Third Coming

    Third Coming
    Can you hear the clapping, my gums flappin’
    Moronic juicy rhymes keep the songs sap in
    Religion double tappin’ state talk crappin’
    Corona virus wave, another victory lappin
    Third coming
    Crowned for Easter
    Profit from misery is a sign of the beast (er)
    Baste the turkey with Brexit, the piss, Boris teks it
    You vote for rabid dogs and Brexit you get sick
    The virus, Zuck text it, fuck facebook and hex twit
    Take you bitcoin and shove it up your arse slit
    Who work for it, masses of energy, you tit
    No wonder Elon want Bitcoin to hit the ceiling
    Lao Tzu, Hegel and Machiavelli thieving
    Layers of capital, players and neigh sayers
    No socialist agenda to help or pay us
    Third coming
    Business class ass still got a thumb in
    Free ride capital, greedy market slummin’
    Mean motherfuckers own the means to living
    And I keep moaning, remaining, reframing
    Hot under the tongue, breath aiming flaming
    Wildfires
    From coast to coast
    Dumbos spread the virus like its jam on toast
    And my petty rhymes don’t even begin to roast
    Most the guests at the park who insult the host
    The planet’s not ours to save
    Greed stings like aftershave
    A curse on plague DJs who play the plague rave
    Greeting the third wave, go live in your cave
    Third coming
    In the air tonight like a song
    And I’m using a dolphin as a wake-shift bong
    You can thank Boris Trump Putin and Ping
    For the super spread of capital mutations this spring
    There’s a way out, forward, just look
    For the mutualist syndicalist anarchist book
    It may take a while, more destruction and bile
    We must crawl mile after mile after mile
    Eat that third shit sandwich and smile
    I know, my once tasty raps may seem vile
    Some raps snap like a crocodile
    Some traverse the Ganjes and Nile
    I’ve mysteries and manuals on file
    Spit a botticelli mosaic on your floor tile
    Suck satan off kitchen foil
    Cook up spies until they ready boiled
    Memories well oiled
    Serpent’s tooth and tail coiled
    Bed and pants soiled
    Poems loyal, dialed, dyed and royal real
    A bargain bop bonanza, a steel
    A wing on the third rail, another on the wheel
    Third coming
    Yower’ all-grow-ridim can’t latch me
    This patch is quilted with hatched ste
    Setting head fires with match key
    Game set seal, Adamski
    Born inwards Lee
    Burrows down to Gordon Brown’s downfall
    Gordon Bennet wrote it, I just float a bit
    Encircle, we mote it bee line for bass face distance sting
    Third Coming
    Ouch, like a corkwynder to our chops
    Like people without masks buying bog roll in shops
    Britain top of the pops
    But the band eating slops
    The Queen still banking and reaping our crops
    My flipper it flops, the bit penny drops
    From heaven or hell, or Giza cheops
    Capitals zit pops, death toll hit tops
    Exceptionally sexless brexit means worse off
    Oh well, so let’s make a mockery
    Come see my garden pond, deck chairs and rockery
    I fancy pigeons in my flockery
    Writs sound odd like socks, hurry
    In a global pandemic I’m sick like McFlurry
    Furry like mink
    Stinky like skunk
    Tuned up on Sun Ra and Thelonious Monk
    Third coming
    Like a trilogy
    We say three and in dutch it’s drie
    Wonton soup and cantaloupe with brie
    That predictive techx cunht catch flea
    Mimic my octopus, high me, fly me
    Word coming back from the grave
    Forgiveness, NHS not Jesus saves
    Eton enclaves and PPE chums
    Suck up resources and steal the last crumbs
    Tory Brexit death march to distant drums
    Oh diddums, it’s only a life
    Only a son, daughter, mother, father, husband or wife   
    Put down the knife, pick up the pen
    Write it out kids, let us begin
    Hideous crimes by this lying gangerino
    Pale when compared with Squintin Quarantino

      

  • Squintin Quarantino – Oven Ready Squeal

    Not with bang but a whimper, lost my temper
    Turn time to tempo, praise Bon Po
    Buddhist buddies come on, let’s go
    Li Po, leapfrog, ego, lap-dog, lap top, tap-tap, sap head, drip drop

    Murder most horrid Boris mutates covid
    Killers on the loose, infodemic noose fervid
    Truth’s not in news, chief commissioner of tours
    Lewer and skewer fact straight down sewers
    …We need more growers, sewers and flowers
    Sewers in sewers and so on it sours (my taste buds) 
    …Flowers with flowers, word is born, spore spawn (I could flow on for hours)

    You want rhymes about me
    What I do….what I see (fly on)
    My opinion, looking through a dark-glass onion
    It hurts to reflect, like hot crossed bunions
    “Hehe, yeah, SQ’s a funnyion
    Wonky sightsee wanky world pie eye on
    Any dope shit I’ll be there like…(flies on)

    Are you surprised hun, look to the skies sun
    Rattle of raps, like a cow’s tongue flaps (pun)
    Words get bended, letters they splendid’
    I sit on your satire, as no pun in ten did (we mend it)
    Hate, unfriend it
    I’m going round the bend with the Zen end pundit
    Lies, unfund it, Raab Convid Nazbitt
    Like Norman Tebit, Mason Verger, rude serve it (room service)
    Secret dis-service, church surface to air mad circus. 

    That smell cumming from the Bullington club
    Like acrid sulphur shit coke from a spoonz pub
    Tory stink toilet brick stank up the bog
    Not a priti smell, cummings wreak of reek Mogg (false fog?)
    More pricks than hedgehog, a tsarist tsig-tsog, zig zag tsog blog
    Chumocracy, toxic crack rock economy
    Hollow heart symphony, syphon off PPE
    I’m with Public Enemy, “stay the fuck away from me”
    Conservatives spaff’ cash and endanger our family

    Bozo, more U-bends than Putin’s wife
    Dither and delay cost 100’000 life
    With a mouth full of fevers, empowered by leavers
    His fowl behaviour, praised Trump as our saviour
    Cummings in his ear, in his rear eye mouth
    Follow that fucker and we all fall south (of heaven)
    He’s putting Brits in the oven, hand over gloven,’
    Ready mi ready, just cooked another dozen
    Go tell your ma’, your sister and cousin
    Squnitin’s gone cursin’ in wonkyverse versin’ (dispersin)
    infected, with novel rip-rap-arona’
    Injected with poets for a whole new personae (to cajole ya’)
    rap-rona round the globe
    Raw Joyce Popper poppin’ in yer’ frontal lobe’

    Make laughter infectious again
    Fake letter in fact a pain
    Fact the pain away, with rainbow come rain
    Babies in feeding trough, old forgotten, Gorbachov
    I’m snookered at the turntable, Squintin like rack man in-off
    Boom time for vultures, payday for toffs   
    I hope they all choke on kamikaze moths

    –Squintin Quarantino

    https://www.patreon.com/stevefly