Fish

 

 

 

 

 

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Also available on the classwar karaoke survey, 0030 as set to music by the excellent Balkh. If you want to help CWK achieve its goal of funding a compilation CD, go buy their wonderful works:
https://freemusicarchive.org/…/Classwar_Karaoke_-_0030_Sur…/

Geni

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Spike, my heart, your beef is not with me, good captain. I did not let your Geni out of the bottle. Keep a lid on it. Keep it safe, safe as milk. It's rare such gifts set so many free.

Extracting Bhagwan

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Wyjasnienie by Dorota Szumilas

A spoken word piece kindly supplied by Dorota Szumilas who hails from Poland.

Terminal Hierophantiasis by Antares @ Guano Breath

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Inspired by a poem drafted in 1969 and recorded over 3 sessions in 1986. 

TERMINAL HIEROPHANTIASIS

we bow our heads in unison & listen
to benisons in latin as we
sit on satin cushions
in silence
with violent visions
of serpents & surplices
& sacred bullocks
& cassocks & castration
casting lustral pearls
at lugubrious swine
that wallow in goodswill
on the dunghill of time
popping corn & copping porn
pages from hoary wisdom torn:

O HEAVENLY FATHOPE
GRUNT UNTO US
IN THIS THE HOUR OF OUR SORDID GREED
WE PLEAD WITH BEADS OF GRUBBY CREED
IN CHUBBY FINGERS

from the foulpit to the pulpit
of the chosen pew
we send forth solemn nostrums
from the rostrum
to our beloved token jew

FORGIVE US OUR FOREFATHERS' FORESKINS
AND GIVE US THIS DAY A DULL RAP
ON THE SKULL CAP
OR SOME CLAP TRAP

oh we think we know we see
whom & how & whatsoever we should be
for all is ultimately part & parson
of immortality
(so help me)

wherefore this common porridge:
this grim & grueling gravy
in which organisms sink or swim
suspended in acute & minute animation
doomed to drink & be drunk
& perchance be merry
or to suffer indigestion &/or indigestibility?

BY THE MONAD'S GONADS,
ANSWER ME!

we bow our heads
over supper sipping soup
but does it really matter
if tablemanners are observed
or if slurping sounds delicious?
after all the tiny whiny citizens
aswoon or aswirl in their own dire mansions
in our soupy microcosm
are also busy bowing pious little heads
over teeny weeny bowls of perfect beans...
And be it so.

Composed, performed & mixed by Antares

who do I gotta kill today?

If you think that "Kill Today" is a song consisting of words that are sung, then you clearly don't know what singing is. But if audible words are not sung, then by default they must be spoken.
Therefore, this post is on-topic!
Music or not, I suggest you crank up the volume (and most especially the Bass) to the max!

A Night in the Day of a Reluctant Psychopath

Once I went walking but I lost my way
Then right up ahead was a little cafe
I walked right in, said "what's the special today?"
The waiter was a man of many years
He said "all you'll get is blood, sweat and tears."
I laughed as I shot that man in the face
Then I turned and I ran right out of that place.

Why, why, why...
Why, why, why...

Couldn't see my next move
Couldn't see my way clear
I just couldn't find my way home...

Got no money, and no place to go
Cold and hungry, and I'm feeling kinda low
Got no friends and I got no wife
Travelling light, most of my life
A man with no love, in a world with no soul
The undead living in a deep, dark hole.

Couldn't see my next move
Couldn't see my way clear
Couldn't find my way home
Can't seem to find my way home tonight...

My life is a mess and I'm out of control
Got no destination and I got no goal
I'm gonna lay me down, lay me down and die
Just wish I knew the reason why
Down on my knees I begin to pray
Lord who do I gotta kill today?
Please tell me who do I gotta kill today
I hear voices that I must obey
And I wonder why...

Why, why, why...
Why, why, why...
Can't seem to find my way home tonight.

---

Cosmic Rapture and Masterymistery are two of the names by which the creator is known.
Check out his author-page at Amazon

Music / MP3 Download: Who do I gotta kill today? out now at I-Tunes

Poetry Book of the Year - 2014 - 'Bone Monkey' by Janet Sutherland

 

 

The first mistake I made with this highly creative book was to assume, upon seeing the title, that the subject matter had a Pagan slant. Nothing wrong if that were the case. It isn't though. It is far more than that and although the central character is a Loki like, Puckish deity, one who flits in and out of mortal life, the poems featured here have more to do with humankinds spectrum of frailties. From murder to sex, from death and rejuvenation to caring for a dementia sufferer.

Like any book of poetry, unlike a novel, reading it from cover to cover, poem by poem, is never near enough to grasp all of what's been said. I read this through in just over one day. I then returned to it again for the next few weeks. Re-reading and fully digesting each jewel like word.

 

With my woefully inadequate education, one that saw me being expelled following some riotous behaviour, I wouldn't know a sonnet from a punnet. Okay, one has rich delicious fruit in it and is eaten by attendees of Wimbledon. The other is something poets do and that Will Shakespeare was famous for. In this book we find those sonnets nuzzling up against free form poetry. The range is expansive, the emotions found - expressive.

 

 Janet's spritely dance leads us down paths dark, dim yet often exhilarating. Her poetry is sure footed and nimble, weaving as it touches upon a series of linked ambitions, threaded conceits, one central theme  revealing what we already know - mankind is an odd lot.

There are several poems that really thrilled me - 'Red Hibiscus' with its twisted psyche. Bone Monkey being as devious and deviant as a Bone Monkey can be. 'His Exposition on the art of memory,' which carries a distinct melancholic feel to it and finally 'Fire Fleet and Candle Light' an ode to death, dying and the ultimate end of life.

It is the delight in the words that both mesmerise and impress. The sheer exuberant zest for the poetry's spectrum as the colours cast engage the reader, tugging you close, inviting you to feel those rhythm's, urging you to uncover meaning but most important of all to enjoy what in reality is some fine poetry. 

 

Janet Sutherland was born in Salisbury and grew up on a small dairy farm. She studied English at University College, Cardiff, before moving on to gain an MA in American Poetry at University of Essex.  Since 2001, she’s lived in Lewes, East Sussex and as well as pursuing her writing, Janet works part time for Relate in Brighton.

Bleaugh!

. 315 x 420

HAPPY CHRISTMAS ONE END SMALL

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On The Other Hand of Time by Penn Kemp and Friends

Poor Penn struggled somewhat with posting this so asked if I would help. So I did. Here is Penn, with help from Brenda McMorrow (Music) and Bill Gilliam (Piano).....

Penn Kemp is a Canadian poet, novelist, playwright, and sound poet who lives in London, Ontario, Canada. Penn earned a degree in English and literature from the University of Western Ontario in 1966 and received certification as a teacher. Subsequently she taught high school English in Timmins and North York for several years and in 1988 she received an Ontario Graduate Scholarship to complete a Masters of Education degree at the University of Toronto. In 2010 Kemp became Canadian London's first poet laureate.