DEEP SCRATCH

Category: Poetry

Poems, shards, fragments, prose, experiments

  • Race Riots and Revolution in the UK

    Hi,

    The riots in the UK earlier this month (aug. 6-10, 2011) have provoked a number of textual reactions and experiments from me that I present here in a mish-mash-up style. Typically I have the beginnings of lots of different ideas, poems, screenplays, on-going research and rants. I might need some help editing some of this stuff.

    I decided that Race Riots and Revolution in the UK could be a title theme that runs through these writings. Please enjoy, share and feedback. And remember to try and think happy thoughts as ften as possible. Please, thankyou.

    1.

    FLIP FLOP CIRCUIT
    Earthquakes, Tsunamis, Bombs, Massacres, riots, revolutions, eclipses, sun flares.
    New friends, free storage space, wikipedia, social network, medicinal Marijuana.
    Banking fraud, spying, physical abuse, murder, robbery, torture, gang violence.
    Flash mobs, geodesics, massage, wireless power, permaculture, genomics, crowd funding.
    Phone hacking, arms dealing, oil spillage, shooting, rape, volcanic eruptions, bee death.
    Space flight, organic farming, e-bay, yoga, twitter, multi player gaming, aural sex.
    Coercion, sea pirates, con-men, lawyer run capitalism, road side bombs, liars, cheats.
    Tablet computing, prosthetics, hormone therapy, MP3’s, hugs, open source democracy?
    –Steve ‘fly’ Pratt 23
    2.
     
    QUESTION CRIME?
     
    Bits and thoughts like branches and leaves budding
    earth seasons seem to bring politcal and ecological changes,
    the city map of life inside a city map world ripped by a rat.

    Talkers gasping for fresh air, to make sense of the senses
    to pit poverty of imagination against scandalous expenses
    to lay seeds, to plough the fields and jump fences

    I am sucked into the babble slang and the prattle
    what’s in a name, what’s in a battle
    who traded pigs for whiggs, and precious coin for cattle?

    The scrupulus meanness of money magic
    the comedy in a staged collapse, tree’s felled: tragic
    politicians need MDMA for empathy and to help fight
    capitalist cancer outbrake.

    To gamble our land’s life support on the mad-Bull market
    gives off a reckless and putrid stench of rotting corpses
    cannibals of europe are eating their children,

    Each human mind encompasses the whole universe
    the whole multiverse contained inside a criminal thug?
    please, we are all interacting nervous systems beyond classification.
     
    –Steve ‘fly’ Pratt 23.
     
    3.
    HOW TO LOVE A HOODY?
     

    What does it take to love a hoody?
    never mind hug a hoody love a hoody,
    tuff love buddy,
    a flood of reasons to show empathy
    as some wise man once said ‘love thy enemy’
    so… how might we love a hoody

    What’s inside that hood

    Who’s under the street monkhood
    What creature lurks beneath the Addidas and the Nike garnments
    What feet creep across broken glass in Fila boots
    what’s inside the head wrapped in Burberry
    all day crime think? think again, 

    These are human beings just like you,
    criminality seems a pretty flimsy stick these days
    as one man goes down for knickin’ a shirt
    another walks, like Tony Blair, what is fair?
    To me Tony is no better than a hoody,
    Gangster activity, lack of insight and foresight,
    disrespect, bad judgement, personal benefit
    at the scandalous expense of others.
    Criminal intelligence is intelligence

    none-the-less.

    a gang is a group or slang for a coup
    on the sinister crime-minister’s ‘gang-think’
    David Starkey scans the culture darkly, 
    dimly, shortsightedly.

    –Steve ‘fly’ Pratt 23.

    (more…)

  • c60 Buckminsterfullerene’s and 2012 Geodesic Revolutions

    I have a hunch, a Grunch, about Buckminster Fuller’s innovations.

    Lets make a new TTOTT football, based on the Buckminster Fuller “Carbon 60” structure, and featuring a new Hologrammic Language… that’s what I think, or thought just earlier today after work.

    A Football, everybody plays with a football, no? Lets make a TTOTT football and construct a TTOTT team (tribe), place them on a TTOTT field (map) and have them play the kind of games Herman Hesse envisioned for his ‘Glass bead game’, or.. whatever you like. Just play. Let us play.

    The structure of buckminsterfullerene is a truncated (T = 3) icosahedron which resembles a soccer ball of the type made of twenty hexagons and twelve pentagons, with a carbon atom at the vertices of each polygon and a bond along each polygon edge. — http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buckminsterfullerene

  • Two new rants: Where’s Frank and Who Killed Kelly?

    RANT 1:

    “The existence of the secret mind control programme of the CIA and the Army only came to light after Nixon’s resignation in 1974, when a fresh wind of “openness” seemed to flow through the opened windows of the Washington governmental offices. American journalist John Marks requested, using the Freedom of Information Act, several documents on the subject, which would result in Senate Hearings that occurred in 1977. A can of worms had been opened. Were there any references to Puharich in these documents? One of the projects that was part of this programme, BLUEBIRD/ARTICHOKE, ran from 1952 till 1956, roughly coinciding with the period when Puharich was assigned to Edgewood.–Philip Coppens, Beyond the stargate.

    ‘Where’s Frank?”

    1953-56
    A Can of worms or
    A barrel of Cobras or 
    An Oil tanker, full of Killer halibut?

    1953-56, while be-bop blazed
    Inside the heads of a whole new language
    A Bluebird ate an Artichoke in Maryland.

    What devilry possessed the authorities
    To break the first rule of psychic engagement?
    They altered the mind-scape of psychiatric patients
    At Powick 1953-56.
    Sheer coincidence?

    Puharich’s book ‘The Sacred Mushroom’
    Can be found
    In a library quite near to that famous Hospital
    Called Powick, where Elgar found inspiration.
    And where John Rowland Reece, and
    Doctor Ronald Sandison gave LSD,
    And WHO KNOWS? whatever else,
    To inmates, patients, subjects, whatever you like
    To call those people without medical training
    At Tavistock, Harvard, Camp-X? etc.

    Yes, you guessed it,
    You have arrived in my conspiracy
    A number of dots, nodes, junctions in history
    That tie together a bunch of loose laces,
    And not just any old boot,
    These are in fact Wellington Boots,
    With deep Amazon jungle vine, latticed
    Across and around them.
    Here we simply show how similar ideas and practices
    Of a particularly secret and sordid species,
    Were taking place AT THE SAME TIME.

    Yet, in modern historical studies,
    Political, psychiatric, cultural and lingual we find no
    Official record of these things ever taking place
    As a part of a bigger, more Unified, cross-Atlantic
    CONSPIRACY.
    You dig?
    Here, once more, fly agaric 23 presents:
    Beyond 2012 and the Storgate Conspiracy.
    Where’s Frank?

    I’ll get back to my tiresome intellectual pursuits
    That center around uncovering beauty and symmetry
    In language and culture, and sharing.
    Making music, poetry, and fun, for the most part.

    Helping other artists and individuals discover
    Poetry, music and ‘new questions’,
    I’ll get back to ‘art for social change’ after
    I write my piece leading directly into
    ‘The social’,
    Yet operates
    To nullify and ‘void’ the sad atrocities we have seen
    perpetuated by Military Industrial pharmacological
    Complex.

    Church and State departments seem to me
    To have sat around
    Thinking of new ways to trick, torture and steal from
    THE PEOPLE,
    The serfs, the rest of US, not serving
    Them directly or on the pay roll?
    Imprisoning us in State Department Stores
    And Church led psychiatric shops.

    Drug stores and more stores than anyone
    Even Orwell or BILL HICKS could have imagined.
    ALL THIS mockery of the great human potential
    And power for ALL-AROUND-THE-WORLD
    Co-operative collaborative systems!

    Inter-accomadative systems
    Like those defined by the great
    Buckminster Fuller, who, between the years
    1953-56 seemed to be perpetuating LIVINGRY
    And with POETRY.

    And with attention to LANGUAGE. And to STRUCTURE
    Clear and well defined.
    Technical, mathematical, and simplified
    EQUATIONS,
    Bucky mixed all styles of textual communication,
    Combined with his vast Omniverse of
    DESIGN REVOLUTIONS.

    And Bucky was mostly ignored, for the most part
    By the special PSYCHIC-DRUG lords,
    Busy tampering with mind-altering drugs
    In the name of National Security, and the usual
    Illuminati agenda of control, manipulation and
    Masks.

    1953-1956, where’s Frank now?
    What were they up?
    Them same old company tricks?
    We can only guess that the smoke thickens
    Light disappears and Oxygen leaves the room
    “Breath once more, son, and your history”
    The spook said in my ear.

    Don’t ask, don’t mention it,
    “An Iraqi super gun full of sea-monkeys?”
    The round table conferences
    The Wasson trips and Life magazine,
    What year, what year was it now? huh?

    Wiki the decade 1950-1960.
    See what’s up?
    Wiki Powick, wiki Mk-Ultra
    Wiki John Rowland Reece
    And James Jesus Angleton
    Wiki ‘Dr. Timothy Leary’
    And compare your Government employed
    Agents, and those self-employed.

    Would they, could they
    Did they, dey they?
    What else did they do to us, drugs and experiments
    Do you feel it yet? the pressure
    Of having something terrible to describe
    Like torture and scenes of abuse, the worst kinds
    Of atrocities that ‘take away’ what defines humans,
    In my view: the ability to say NO and mean it.

    Maybe I am wrong on all accounts
    Possibly…
    a. There were no LSD experiments at either Powick or in Maryland during the period 1953-56.
    b. There were experiments but with the intention of purely medical and research based experiments, to improve our collective understanding of the unconscious and help humanity and the individual better their communication, or some such ‘positive’ goal.
    c.  The experiments were only conducted using Mescaline and/or other psychoactive drugs, and/or methods such as Electro-shock so no LSD was used.
    d. The secret services were not involved with the naive search for a ‘Truth serum’ and have had no interest in drugging people without their knowledge and observing them for the purposes of ‘intelligence gathering’ in the tradition of the more well known ‘Nazi Doctors’ and their in-human experiments.
    e. I am an LSD casualty myself, and due to encounters with this marvelous medicine have developed an entire historical hallucination based upon a fictional Universe where nobody, not a soul, other than ‘I’ inhabit? None of these ‘things’ I write of are real. I invented them in a drug induced ‘psychic’ break with reality, in the singular.

    And to Camp X-factor we run
    Motor-way’s and ‘fish n’ chip shops’ flash by.
    Alone, a thinker on the street, a self-employed
    Agent dedicated to evolving all-around-the-world
    Humanity,
    And not just one company coffer.

    I want the truth,
    You can keep the serum,
    Where’s Frank?
    I’ll walk the plank scale for this my lovelies
    James Bond dealt the acid, but never ate himself,
    You dig.

    Like Batman’ s psychological warfare belt
    Of drugs and potions,
    1953-1956, come now, tell us, tell us all
    I want to know your tricks and I want
    To learn your trade, mate.
    Is Frank here yet?
    Where’s Frank

    RANT 2:

    Who didn’t murder David Kelly?

    Who who who?
    Somebody tried not to kill David Kelly, who?
    David Kelly killed David Kelly?
    Who didn’t want him dead?
    Who wanted David Kelly ALIVE, and why?
    Who got blood on their hands, and who put
    Blood on the Tele’?

    Who who who?
    An Iraqi weapons trade group?
    Who want’s him dead, who wants him alive?
    Dead or alive, the question remains…
    WHY DID TONY BLAIR OVERSEE FAKE INTELLIGENCE?
    Why did the UK Government send hundreds of soldiers
    To their deaths, based upon ‘sexed up intelligence?”
    Who who who benefits?
    What wouldn’t YOU have put past BUSH and BLAIR?

    If D.K killed himself due to an honor principle
    I would be honored if the other lying bastards behind the
    Intelligence ‘lies’ concerning weapons of mass destruction’
    Did the same thing, like how Bill Hicks might say it
    “Kill Yourself, really” one less moron.
    One less spook motherfucker!

    So far, only David Kelly has done the honorable thing
    Killed himself for what he had been a part of:
    The manufacture of consent, the ‘hoodwinking’
    Of an entire nation, for the purposes of a continued
    TRADE in weapons, poison, germs, guns and steel.

    Tony Blair and his FAITH
    In Lord Hutton, and Lord Hutton’s faith that
    70 years should do it, 70 years should be enough time
    For humanity to forget, WHY, David Kelly killed himself
    or Murdered himself? Murdered himself, huh?

    So, it follows, if Kelly killed himself
    We may look into the complex of factors that
    Pushed him into the act, may we not?
    Journalistic harassment, work pressure,
    An unhealthy diet, psychiatric imbalance?
    Lets not rule out any of these contributing factors
    To his death, based on the ‘suicide’ model.

    Maybe David didn’t eat enough Artichokes?
    What inquiry would find the media corporations
    And Military itself ‘guilty’ of murder?
    Like the JKF inquiry, you don’t think these
    Intelligencers are foolish enough to not have
    THEIR MAN heading the so called inquiry?

    Go back and look at the 911 commission
    The 7/7 inquiry, the IRAQ WAR TRIALS,
    The expenses scandal and, in fact, most Government
    Investigations and inquiry’s, even at the local level,
    The courts have been ‘packed’
    The council ‘stacked’ with
    THEIR men and their women,
    Pretending to ‘represent’ us as some kind of
    Autonomous ‘free agent’ whereas, in fact
    They remain chiefly whipped into order by
    Executive powers, spooks, investors,
    Religious scripture.  

    Who who who?
    Who can break this spell,
    Who can show us the relative truth,
    In such a way that we’ll never forget again,
    The power of motivated individuals to transform
    Humanity through peaceful, non-violent means.
    Who who who?

    Ray Kurzweil, the Dali Lama?
    Madonna, Oprah, Robby Williams
    Who who who?
    Mick Jagger and Paul Mcartney?
    Ken Wilber, Alex Jones?
    Arianna Huffington, Stephen Hawking?
    Who who who, who can lift the great ball of crystal
    Julian Assange?

    Suicide or Murder?
    What’s the difference?
    The question is WHO helped deceive the British people
    Into buying a WAR and supporting a group of serial killers
    In their on-going international ‘shopalypse’ campaign?

    Who killed him, who killed Diana?
    Who poisoned the Russian agent,
    Who set the underground bombs,
    Who befriended Hitler’s buddy
    Who invented the ‘spy’ game?
    What’s their name, rank, and file?

    Who befriended the American spooks?
    And invited them into town, Vatican contacts and all?
    Who who who?

    Who killed senator Wellstone,
    Who set the building seven ‘bomb’
    Who hired Diabold
    Who wanted John Lennon shot?
    Who paid Trent Lott
    Who hired terrorists?
    Who runs a flight school
    Who dealt the ‘promis’ software
    Who flew those planes
    Who builds the weapons, the guns, the poison?
    Who tops the pop charts,
    Who hosts the XX factor.

    Who killed David Kelly, and who forces us to
    Stop thinking about it by releasing ‘papers’ that say
    Keep calm and carry on?
    Ignore the Kellenedy assassination.
    Your missing valuable drinking time.

    Steven James Pratt

  • SHANNANIGUMS WIKI

    Wikispaces

    Wikispaces

    Steven James Pratt

  • YOUTUBE AND THE TALE OF THE TRIBE T.V CHANNEL

    http://www.youtube.com/cp/vjVQa1PpcFMwT_1nJ3VR1zH0HqEV2YQI6ygKDyFuKZ4=

  • Wear this book, declare this verse.

    Turn on this book. Share this joint. Glare this hook and wear this course. Ware this source, open. Deal this book . Aware this book. Snare this book on the reaping hook. Bare this, look. Swear this book, cross your heart. Blare this verse, sing. Spare this curse. PLoughshAre this course. Pair-this-force. What’s fare at the bourse? Declare endorse and share this coarse verse chorus. We’re this book! Wear this corset.

    http://sharethiscourse.wikispaces.com/

    Steven James Pratt

  • SHANNANIGUMS WAVE. feat. Artwork by CHU.





    Steven James Pratt

  • CI for COPENHAGEN INTERPRETATION 2009: What Poetry?

    http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fshannanigums-wave-book-iii-chapter-xii& Shannanigums Wave Book III Chapter XII by flyagaric23

    “Us clams must stick apart” –Feudal Baron Periwinkle III.

    Aphrodite rose from sea foam in film. Merry Mermaid and love goddess surfinn her scallop chariot through twisted arms of godsoilmen and sludge.

    She has risen to meet the supermajors to balance scales and dance to the finnance seers circe song.

    Gulf scoop. Venus Arise! Awake. Hail Eris! Drink snail wine and toast to King scallop, loops.

    Sail up Botticelli’s shell birth canal, known by cockle, hat and staff, Cruz’ past oily Slick Cheney news. We roe under the sign, past energy task force positions.

    The Galloping Scallop clad man of greek myth. The Knights bejewelled in clam lips and kisses. Rich blue Oil spill or mother of pearl? Like blended parrots and dead plankton, mixed emulsions. Beautiful Miss. Oil Spill?

    Crude awakening to the spill-age. A Collosal squid princess riding old Jakobsschelp to help a Hutch load of old scallops rise out the Seafloor Blues. Deep sea things speak! Lo! Scallops of the ocean down by the great rising Chiefs.

    Take Big Periwinkle into your earshell. Smell the sign, touch the symbol, has it got ridges? Dreams cast to sea to see in a Venus shell in a mother of pearl breast. Dead Plankton in the paint painted on Saints of the swamp.

    And the city sewers flow. Heed the clam of commerce and the cockle-shock shimmy. A shell of transfusion, what sea-shell sign symbol confusion.

    Emerging on a horse covered in Scallops? Yes, Prince Periwinkle gallops-up stream like Salmon. Skullops for one shelling a dollop. Sea wave-wind Mussels flex into fossils. Oh, more yet, invisible smell of oilamp from the limpet.

    The Penis of Mr. Big Periwinkle is swelling, a telling sign of the times. Lets Oil the Oystery of Oil, and stir with a staff, lets foil Big sharks, get shocked, struck coil! Row roe with the Tide Swell batter and salt.

    Swim with the titanic Sementic shift, up out the shell, again, to tell a snail tale of the planetary shaft.

    Son’s of Thunder Juice, Snel, quick up to defend the word. A sea slug with untold feet, runs with you. Hoily Tools of the Big Petrol scoop and scope scheme, wallops the marine scene with unclean oil sheen. Another spellage.

    Ocean deep n’ blue, packed full of shell-rooms, true teachers of petrochem generation X. Drill here. Rise up like foam, Alexthunder Oil the Shah Cockle and the unseen shellhand scoop, arise fortuna.

    Waxy Parrot Snot in the sea banks, how to dress up a death spill? Casting Shells – The wavy lines trace swellmighty calm. His Loch’ Holiness the Buddhaclam Caliph of Pearl of the Santiago Shell mound gate tell us, what fate?

    Great clam emperor of the Mollusca lineage, Big Up your shelf. By nature the sign, 500 Million years of geometry spun, sings in holy brine water, the Duke Periwinkle Clam tissue of ivory Sheen?

    Look down the well. Oily DEA and ivory salt newspaper scalps litter our vessel, truth and beauty from underwater vents, meanwhile oilmen pollute the ocean-Green with sculpted Pipe lines, crime waves of DEA projects, No Oildea how sticky their handshells.

    To the Great Old One’s, please hear us and help a sign-sailor resist a supermajor temptress, blackmailing a redesign.

    Each cell on the Shell glitters and does not glisten. Clamco on our sex organs. Oil spill, pipe-line, spoil, Usury, coercion, interference with the flow.

    Oyster Gods of ancient oceans sculpt the wave and weave pearls for serpents teeth to sew. WWII elixir prohibition, in the name of thy snakeoil potions, Rise, Oh.

    Sea-meat wonders with one hundred eyes that dwell upon Old heraldic shields, Rise up like bubbles and show us your shape. If only Molluscs could grow wings?

    Dutch English American statistics, more scallops? Roam the ocean wide with the Sigil of Galloping shells tells a whale of a trial of a clam, with snapping hinge teeth. Big Blood and loot (bleep) swinging from the Scallops pole, I and Shelly, and our Seal: Koninklijk.

    A Toast to Scallops and the food of Godzilla, and the marvel of Clam propulsion.

    Venus come surfing on a scallop, leading with a shell in hat and staff in hand. Scholar. Mussel Swimming down Saint James’s glory-gate to stealth Oil Cow and coo. Scoop it. And the church Redlips TTOTTAL Informollusc. Sculp. Crude awakening.

    Cockoily and Crude Millions scalloped out of the earth’s. Intimidated pilgrims raise a Church shoal. To the Botticelli Shell-mex, mix, to the – Supermajor – noGods’ and the shall he, Shall he not trotter. Heart of calcite, home of crystal. Toil to swim with the ASA Esso sponsors. Pick a Shell and drink James Juice.

    The sacred periwinkle proportions, now sea gold. Periwinkle Cockle and aragonite Shillyshellying, on land we’re all out of gas? Gaia Scalp flaking, dry rot and sun burn, Crashing oil and Blood in similar waves, Half-mollusc, half man with a vulva Cuthulu cult riding a Periwinkle to shore, to soil on past British Patrolingmen.

    Deep Rejoice – Skol – of the sea leagues 93’000 species of Mollusc, calcium from sea, Saint James Juice “No thankyou.” Oh, resurrecting Periwinkle is forbidden? Greenwash be damned, HOLY Scollop of truth Swim on your way!

    Oh, Mollusc gas around pilgrims Hands. Scooping the word. Praise the Count of cockles who calculates the calcium content. Re-shore em’ that Oystery has Pearls. Barons to protect the crust. Don’t drill, hear! The silver pink flesh remaining of ocean Sheild.

    What pearls lie in the sign. Schaaldrake Unreeled from the Well, winds blowing above the abyss of humanity.

    A clamber of underwater James shimmer “What the devil’s covering you, old directors?” The Hat clamp too. Holy floor, must be peak oil time! Shall we use our gills to push? Praise oceans Brand waves. The fisherman on fire, Oil brigade, fire brigade.

    What Sustenance? Entangled oil pipline artery of earth rot? Well well well, Oil be damned! eyel. The stolen dead plankton. The dead seamen-oil-blood transfusion.

    The Tectonic shifts and shafts. Swallow the shilly-shally sea and go a’ rumaging. A mussel bound wisdom tongue in a Dutch pit. Venus in shell, that feminine Scallop.

    Beware the starfish and oystercatchers and Condi Rice. Our boat enters the earshells of Leviathon. Seers are feeding, so meditate on bivalvia underground and grow new ears. Total germs. Sea worms fight back.

    Please dive off the Euro board and Rejoice for James Juice. Hoily Houses Haunt Oystery sauce. The currents of Oysery in the Musselmen’s. How to Oil the machine and then stir, sir?

    Scallop filtration of nature Mouth pit. Hermaphrodite Samuel of the black-gold waters. Global eyes of the oceanic gleam where Ibskal speak of sea diamonds, pearls and disturb the Calm mud.

    Look Deep, look well , lick the James Juice-oil, drink the poison and ride the snake to the pit of Saint DEA, to planet Exo-Clamboil. Elders send word of hope, inducing Amanita Mollusca.

    Sometides wash nutrients up Ripples of the great allrudy wish-ways prepear’d with proportions of Baron periwinkles dimples. Chevrollop, clamswallop, wham. Big Shh’ galaxy, in silence. And inside the noble clam chamber Mr. Mussel finds shelter from transfusions and Cockledoom on a dinner plate.

    Oh shil, you supermajor logo shystirs. Rumble of waves around scalloped edge – where Venus teleports – to visit ecstatic ten-thousand. And Brand new standards, drink the ocean ink of clam soup. Ingest the Hoily Ocean Extracts from the me-a-ning Well, it’s all for the best.

    Wade through the bauxite, don’t step on our eggshares show foresight. Juice the wellwell markets, be merry, speak into these eggshawls. Schelp, I need some clammy mammy? Muscle and sperm of capitol, testoss and hydrocarbons, Thankyou, the pearls really shine. 500 Million years of Scallop evolution sculpted from chalk with tyme.

    Real Crotch Oil spread and royal Roe Smoothie. The synchro-swimming around the OVA, mixing a schaal alliance. Pink into the black current. Shellfish swim for ecosystem and it’s edges.

    The taste and Zap, filtering compost on sea-bed, the underwater awakening, like Fungus, the Clam infiltrates the swill. Heaven and Hell, the birth of Lucifer von Periwinkle and his Kingdom Oilmen! Lo, the chatter and Swell, the Venus and the Vulva. Marian’s Well. Like a Mermaid’s, always moist.

    Master of devices and of painted Green weeds. Grow. A Pilgrim Artefact slyjacked. Marian! Murmur and maid, with comb and mirror, homeless, Comb exchanged for a clam-pick to pluck Lyre songs. Merry tinkles of shells and deep-blues for heads.

    Oh yeah, to schell the proof to buy the truth. Sea Red and sigil read. Michelle, and her pink mantle. Swimming with our vows to explore the edges of the Sun. Elixir of Baron Periwinkle makes a tasty tipple. A tale maybe a virus. Vile us! With a treacherous hijacked Scallop – snapping – at your toe, out to out brand Oil.

    Way out. Respect the Hoily mollusc of Saint James. These Claims of holy clams clamp down on Baron Periwinkle’s clump, so Dive down and pry benearth. The Venus Mermaiden has risen from the sea to show you her she-sails.

    Steven James Pratt

  • LJ is for LUCIA JOYCE

    WIKI entry:

    Lucia Joyce

    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

    Jump to: navigation, search

    Lucia Anna Joyce (July 26, 1907 – December 12, 1982), daughter of Irish writer James Joyce and Nora Barnacle, was born in Trieste. Italian was her first language and the language in which she corresponded with her father. She studied ballet while she was a teenager, becoming good enough to train with Isadora Duncan. She started to show signs of mental illness in 1930, around the time she began casually dating Samuel Beckett. Her deteriorating mental state caused him to call off the relationship, and in 1934, Carl Jung took her in as a patient. Soon after, she was diagnosed with schizophrenia at the Burghölzli psychiatric clinic in Zurich. She died aged 75 in St Andrew’s Hospital in Northampton, England. She is buried in Kingsthorpe Cemetery, not far from the grave of Violet Gibson.

    Her mental state, and documentation pertaining thereto, is the subject of a recent study by Carol Shloss, who believes Lucia to have been her father’s muse for Finnegans Wake. The study makes heavy reference to the letters between Lucia Joyce and her father, and became the subject of a copyright misuse suit by the James Joyce estate. On March 25, 2007, this litigation was resolved.[1][2] —http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucia_Joyce

    Book overview

    ‘Whatever spark or gift I possess has been transmitted to Lucia and it has kindled a fire in her brain.’ – James Joyce, 1934.

    Most accounts of James Joyce’s family portray Lucia Joyce as the mad daughter of a man of genius, a difficult burden. But in this important new book, Carol Loeb Schloss reveals a different, more dramatic truth: her father loved Lucia, and they shared a deep creative bond. Lucia was born in a pauper’s hospital and educated haphazardly across Europe as her penniless father pursued his art. She wanted to strike out on her own and in her twenties emerged, to Joyce’s amazement, as a harbinger of expressive modern dance in Paris. He described her then as a wild, beautiful, ‘fantastic being’ whose mind was ‘as clear and as unsparing as the lightning’.

    The family’s only reader of Joyce, she was a child of the imaginative realms her father created, and even after emotional turmoil wrought havoc with her and she was hospitalized in the 1930s, he saw in her a life lived in tandem with his own. Though most of the documents about Lucia have been destroyed, Schloss painstakingly reconstructs the poignant complexities of her life – and with them a vital episode in the early history of psychiatry, for in Joyce’s efforts to help her he sought the help of Europe’s most advanced doctors, including Jung. In Lucia’s world Schloss has also uncovered important material that deepens our understanding of Finnegans Wake, the book that redefined modern literature. – GOOGLE BOOKS REVIEW.

    http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=XCwcUOnFV4UC&lpg=PA112&dq=lucia%20joyce%20northhampton&pg=PA112&output=embed

    Steven James Pratt

  • THE PIG WILL HAVE THE LAST GRUNT. BY ACRILLIC FIGA 2007.

    THE PIG MAY HAVE THE LAST GRUNT. By ACRILLIC FIGA (steve ‘fly agaric 23’ Pratt) 2007.
    Pigasus for Prez’ of Swineland 68-69 & 2012
    pigs in space, pigs in time;
    in the Chinese year of the pig: 2007
    i put my pen to the Tusk

    In soilydarity with lush Miss Piggy,
    Hogzilla, Napoleon, old Major and Pigsey,
    Wilbur, Professor Strangepork, Picasso, Pigasus
    and Porky pig

    The four legged hog that the label
    refers to is innocent of man’s crime.
    treated as Swine, in many lands pig denotes
    bad Authority, uncleanliness,
    consumerism, greed,
    and a BLT
    What intricate conspiracy afoot
    set against the animal kingdom
    against the plant kingdom
    the human barn-yard mind,
    orchestrated by Farmageddon
    what vgetable vendetta?

    Rolling in mud, eating shit
    and their own litter, once in a while,
    parallels modern arms factory
    economic practice.

    If you can stomach a capitalist pig
    don’t snap your wig over cannibalism
    pigs act pretty peaceful
    they don’t make Nukes, deploy troops
    most roll with styl, most roast.

    Pig as profanity! pig police authority,
    pig brother, animal in salts.
     
    The pigs may have the last grunt
    as the year of the pig makes its course.


    —Steve fly agaric. 2007. Edited January 29th, 2012.

    I Talk to the dead pig in the sandwhich: Pigasus for Prez of Swineland 68-69 & 08-09? Pigs in Space, pigs in time; in the Chinese year of the pig in 2007′ i’ll put my pen to the Tusk of taking all pigs to heaven. Napoleon & Old major pigs, Ministry of Pig: 1984! Porky Pigs limbs litter the swine factory floor, Pig as profanity! Pigs as the Police authority, Pig Brother. Animals used as insulting metaphors for humans but Machines, Poisons and sleeping robots rule us? Ass drunk and/or stubborn as a mule like Pigasus parroting the whole dirty Bay of Swine thing, War pigs crawling Begging mercy for their sins – sang Sabbath, But the four legged HOG that the word PIG refers to is INNOCENT of all crimes leagilly piggily crimes! Just a bristly pink critter! There seems an intricate Telepathic Conspiracy afoot against the animal kingdom. And against the Plant Kingdom and supernature, from a human-plants point of view. Orchestrated by humans or machine/Robot/poisoned humans. V’ for Vegetable Vendetta. Other than rolling in mud, eating shit and sometimes their own litter (Which makes an illuminating metaphor for modern Arms factory economic practice, invented by Humans), Pigs seem peaceful and intelligent to me, they don’t make Nukes, deploy troops or go to Church. The Hippopota-muses lament for their HOG kind Treated like Swine, the pig has become the Animal word used in Western Civilization that reflects the characteristics Of Authority, Uncleanliness, consumerism and greed. Greedy PIG! A poet in solidarity with the lush Miss Piggy, Hogzilla Napoleon, Old Major and pigsy, Wilbur, Professor Strangepork, Picasso, Pigasus and Porky – i hereby swear to clear these Swine of their stereotypical image quickly and their Stereotypical place in human history and knotted Language as Stupid dumb and dirty cheap fodder; useful at Christmas time with a little gravy tea to dip my TOE into. Dirty grunting Ugly pigs until Served up With a little Sauce. The pigs will have the last grunt as the year of the pig makes its course. —fly acrillic/fly agaric 23. 2007. taken from world piss: the spore of the words.

    Steven James Pratt