
Category: Poetry
Poems, shards, fragments, prose, experiments
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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 youfor 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 craftobli 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
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
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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 FugsJohn 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.
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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 wayswalk 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 placesgenerally 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 knowhip 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
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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 dropMurder 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





