As/Is

11.30.2005

drop 17.1

posted by harry k stammer on Wednesday, November 30, 2005

(3) Comments:

Heh Harry this is very nice, very demanding attention

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 8:16 AM

renee, thanks....

cheers, harry

# posted by harry k stammer on 1:35 PM

clayton, thanks. welcome back!

cheers, harry

# posted by harry k stammer on 6:18 AM

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11.29.2005

like me in the picture
like me a little baby
look at no one in particular
avoid faces and faces
where's this escalator
the one so they say speaks
there are no movies
just movies
i like a lot of things wakeful
vaseline and official orifice
mouths on posters
mouths on separate
what sea is this really
in three persons
lil red tonkas
vs. lil red corvettes

posted by Anonymous on Tuesday, November 29, 2005

(1) Comments:

thanks clayton...much appreciated...

# posted by Anonymous on 12:53 PM

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meet eyeful joyful

eyeful joyful!!!
a number one numbing noise
rot me to sound
be mine forever
sound down to a murmur
sounds like trousers
feel this
kiss me like i'm stranded
irreverent no no
dear traveler
mystic listener
continental breakfast
we are the eyeful joyful
our disc contains wicked
and so much more
order one about me
and i'll ask
so you'll tell us more
about sorcery

posted by Anonymous on Tuesday, November 29, 2005

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DA WORD

Dawn's an advert for sunrise, copy of will,
mind pour, tame of process and nature; her show
will drain liquid man for disposable
cups of recyclable heat, kept in tube warm rows
stacked vertical that move in tilt noble
curves, and deport through his person her weight.

Champion belt thinkers, perceive and taste
her needle, found by chance in vast haystacks
of binary optical data bits,
when light touch's swoosh in trickling dance
make fingertips jive and dig her location.

Dawn fans morph in a mass of electron
and sub particle continuum switch
code, toll in life's quantum the condomic
bell, sounding her one name - humanity,
ooohing, aarghing and praying to art.

Reality becomes her servant, proves
she lies true; that fiction is existence
and our dreams but the kind her dazzle mutes,
shatters, exploding to soul shards which slip
below the love for god's absolute cold
constant zero of absence we sense,
tense, bend and be when she's shaping us.

Oh
ineffable beauty, identity's
docket; please go, to return with her bold
outline, but delineate what form she
will appear in as me. Recognised by
you, will I arrive pressed with all the right
ink in the rubber stamp light of her sheen?

posted by Coirí Filíochta on Tuesday, November 29, 2005

(3) Comments:

Like this one. ...praying to art, good line.

# posted by Nobius on 2:04 PM

Most appealing, 'specially the ending. Bravo!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 2:30 PM

Thank you very much for your kind words. Born both a bard and full time wandering bore, with 24 hours of piss poor play in the day with which to entertain, these words are most welcome.

Watch out for Mr Incredible, a Dublin poet who works in the genre of gangsta rap and can genuinely extemporise. Our poetry gang has moved venues to Dorans in Temple Bar so cum on down, Tuesday nights and lets get jiggy wiv it

# posted by Coirí Filíochta on 5:30 AM

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untitled

Morgan SLIPS tireless cHesire SKie is uniquef
lengthen verbs associated disorders fiscQl tics
slippage death of the author parvinder/rococco/baroque/
persephone leaf'outs ff off the scarp rummaging in
fat hands of turneresque - jerusalem - ah ah Turneresque
qu'est ce que ma cherie sJKies immor immor etc etc
immor fatality

CAR CRASH

posted by Crescentsi on Tuesday, November 29, 2005

(2) Comments:

immor fatality

# posted by Nobius on 2:05 PM

a crash in a deluged wood...
.... police on buses...
......... "get the dog off get the dog off".....

Crescent

# posted by Crescentsi on 10:21 AM

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11.22.2005

Kiss Your Muse

Kiss Your Muse

Kiss Your Muse
That Calliope Passion
Always comes out in Poetry Fashion.
Tonight is the night of nights
To pen a thousand stories.
Plus One.
Plus One.

--Nobius Black

posted by Nobius on Tuesday, November 22, 2005

(2) Comments:

Nice, I really like this.

# posted by Michelle M. Buchanan on 7:24 AM

always plus one!! so the magic of the thousand tales will never end.

the one extra is always the most important one

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 4:12 AM

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11.21.2005

This Is My Poem of Daylight

This is my poem of daylight.
My homespun mimicry of daylight.
This equivalent of shoreline touches up my daylight.
This daylight.

By itself daylight's mere background, as a music.
The integrity of ripe green grass and rain upon it becomes punctuation.
If I loved myself I would be here now, not making an excuse for being somewhere else.
It makes a difference that I'm here.

Today I am in love with you.
I have a calendar replete with days exactly like today.
When it is time to go home,
I go home to you.

When inside, there is no reminiscing about sunlight.
It is outside warming land.
The light is present just before it disappears.
What replaces light is its opposing quiet.

This is how I learn to breathe.
I teach myself.
I am happy that I teach myself and learn.
I am happy to be breathing in your company.

In your company I am most myself.
In my long dreams I come home to you.
In the daylight you and I become equivalent.
In this everlasting poem of daylight.

posted by Sheila Murphy on Monday, November 21, 2005

(2) Comments:

You touched the essence of daylight so well

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 11:37 PM

Thank you, Renee. I'm grateful for your response!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:21 AM

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Mimicry

I'm not the one I used to be
The eight' day of the week
Calls to be explored
Look at me
I'm feminine
I bear a promise
Of things to come
I bear a promise
For females
Who look at me
Calling to be explored
On the eight' day of the week
But I'm not the one I used to be

posted by Renee Wagemans on Monday, November 21, 2005

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11.20.2005

2 ponies nuzzle us @ dusk rochester mn

Compiled 11/21/2005 2:26:47 AM GMT

Roentgen Rosenberg numbness nurse
nutten nuzzle nventions nverse

From bfenpynetmanor.com Tue
dusenberry dushku dusk dusky dust

duration duration's durations
. 14 edgar 14 ebuilder 14 eastman

heaped and steaming on 2-by-3 till
Superdrug, so I could ride you all

nylon nymph nymphomania - Durkee
nuzzle nwill ny nyala nyamwezi

improve our creativity, we must share
dustcolored nutshell nutty nuture

+ } + vol$m/2$n/2 = $ICE; + + return
4 nun 4 nuked 4 nugget 4 nuclide

3: ijklmnop 4: . qrstuvwxyz 22: ad
dusky dust dustpan dutch dutchcap

NY NYC -CHAPTER 2 Samuel Dodsworth
dusk dusky dusseldorf dust dustcloth

Roentgen Rosenberg numbness nurse
nutten nuzzle nventions nverse

hullaballoo, In private, how
USIA USN USPS - In order to show

O'Brian dot-and-dash c3po
Pony Carousel outside Superdrug, so

= $ICE; + + return vol; +} + +# run
nuzzle 4 nutritious 4 nutcrack 4 nun

NY NYC -CHAPTER 2 Samuel Dodsworth
dusk dusky dusseldorf dust dustcloth

nylon nymph nymphomania - Durkee
-- 8 ---. US USA UCLA UHF UK UMIST

kindness. the hundreds, come heaped
dusseldorf dust dustcloth dustcolored

hundreds, come heaped and steaming
so I could ride you all day long

nuzzle machinery brucellosis pal
outside Superdrug, so I could

musk rusk tusk UK - duplicity
dustcloth dustcolored nutshell nutty

nutting nuzzle NY NYC - simply
for a 2. a href=" in the -

the hundreds, come heaped and
dushku dusk dusky dust dustpan

= $ICE; + + return vol; +} + +# run
nuzzle 4 nutritious 4 nutcrack 4 nun

nylon nymph nymphomania - Durkee
nuzzle nventions nverse nverted

2-by-3 till the last pair, left for
so I could ride you all day long for

posted by TT on Sunday, November 20, 2005

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11.18.2005

it'sJust'a'code

posted by harry k stammer on Friday, November 18, 2005

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Ormskirk

Click 'n Listen

A market townland
is where my intellect was sharpened

A flat body of farmland
fringed by Liverpool's urban cloak
tinging the Lancashire twang

which can thicken immediately;
the voice tweaked for the speaker to sound
like a spud tame lame brained div
trained from birth to be a fully labotamised
half cocked bog trotting dick head
or a knob who sounds like a tit

gifted at carrot plucking and
swede, leek and beetroot munching
in mud covered rust bucket caravans

where dreams of getting bladdered
in the plough, the Shoe, the Lion,
the Queens or the Cricks
play on a loop until pay day
when wages are blown
on ale and Ethel Austin wellies
worn in the rakish manner
of a hip Wigan pig shit shovellor
out on the piss.

But living in this linguistaically
liminal hinterland isn't all spuds
and dunderheads.
The liquid nature of the lingo
means scouse tones can also be
freely spouted

and the slow baked brain vacant
bleat of a sheep fiddling field lover
instantly switch to the city witted
jive talk of a street slick
trackie clad bling king giving it
the big one about buying a knock
off helicopter to go clubbing in
London with.

posted by Coirí Filíochta on Friday, November 18, 2005

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11.17.2005

The Real

"Where do I tune in for now?" --The FIXX

"I get what I want. Then I never want it again." --Hole

The Real

A sensitivity--
To skin--
And

poTENTIal

One lie believe another
Everytime make me less
NEEDle

UnTILL I
The *ghost* at your SIDE
darling
floating over.

The Real is
I hate kissing
YOU goodbye.

--Nobius Black

posted by Nobius on Thursday, November 17, 2005

(3) Comments:

kiss me goodbye, yeah.

nice one,
hks

# posted by harry k stammer on 11:02 PM

Hi Nobius. I would be very grateful if you could tell me if it's possible to upload audio when creating blogger posts please?

# posted by Coirí Filíochta on 1:53 AM

Harry, thanks much. I love your work.

Scallijah, I did use BLOGGER to do the audio, and it's free. Just look up "audioblogger" on GOOGLE or in BLOGGER's help. It's so easy, you'll be amazed.

# posted by Nobius on 4:58 PM

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blck lght

unanticipated

anti shadows

distort the sunless

fields

hidden in

a cryogenic mind

invoking

dreams once

obscured by thought

posted by ed schenk on Thursday, November 17, 2005

(4) Comments:

bravo, Neon!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:51 PM

cool again. will go listen to early pink floyd now. nice site.

# posted by hardyf on 9:57 AM

Nice Neon, very nice. It is intriguing

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 1:00 PM

Bravo.

# posted by Nobius on 5:16 PM

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11.16.2005

Lady of Vortex

flamethrowers blasting subsonic violence
jet propelled dragonflies dancing on a laser lit lake
mad Max riding a six legged robot
welcome to Vortex

check my music Lady of vortex
check my videoclip Robodock

posted by ed schenk on Wednesday, November 16, 2005

(1) Comments:

great pic. sexy form and color. like the poem/title form as well.
cool.

# posted by hardyf on 9:54 AM

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11.15.2005

in this spirit

i can undo
what i have starved
in my quest for fire
burning the blood
the lust of amnesia
immortality haunts

billy jno hope

posted by keed on Tuesday, November 15, 2005

(4) Comments:

haunting beauty, these words are so vivid

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 1:33 PM

strong, fine, thanks.

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:51 PM

thanks renee and sheila.

# posted by keed on 5:18 PM

I liked that one alot.

# posted by beardedriffraff on 10:34 AM

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11.13.2005

n!

greed rivals boundaries
as hunger
swells

+

apex
rises higher
in the imagination

+

lore the size
of treetops
smothers

+

possibility
of human
sized beauty realized

+

let go of
something or
stop

+

bargaining
for excess
as if overdose

+

remained impossible because
the mind
desires

posted by Sheila Murphy on Sunday, November 13, 2005

(3) Comments:

good stuff

# posted by keed on 5:15 AM

the first paragraph is a very interesting image. Nice mirrored hay(na)ku

tnx Sheila

# posted by ed schenk on 5:00 PM

Muchas gracias, gentlemen!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 8:29 AM

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an apology of sorts,

indigence of it anyway
might wince the cover blown

my divvies my timidity behind my most
slow going genuine concealment
my well with
weighings

accept the purpose anyway
accept the coquetry
in

flowering nevermind
generally what to see
possibly unwashed socks
intermingling and over
from

his tree
humble calamity the
opposites direction her
companion

wounds to make us feel
blood i never
knew you
* * * * *

posted by ryan on Sunday, November 13, 2005

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11.11.2005

An Irish Poetry Knobhead Squad was out in force last night, prowling a gallery of art, puffed up in an all weather jacket the operative felt unable to remove, due to her unhygienic state. For the last forty-eight hours, "Dick" (lurking undercover in the guise of a balding white-slum male officer agent on duty for the Global Poetry Coalition's Intelligence and Enforcements Agency) has been sporting a dress and calling himself "Doreen", fully equipped to capture and extol the showtime vibes crucial for honest poesie to thrive, and; he as a she had a right old dust up of things

So much so
that the muse whose balance weights his reality
- in the critical pieces of incisive reportage Mr Misery has been contracted to produce -
is no longer writing for us at the moment and arrangements have been agreed with an alternative member of staff which are now in effect.

The role of author
exploring where language may lead
has been handed over to the mind of MC Megagag
Lovidia Yeats,

who wields
through mechanical pencil
to keyboard
what thoughts within her allotted span
will breathe or sneeze in print towards
unmarked borders winding through the breeze unchecked

to a point of light calculation
- now gadget measured -
but once a knowledge vast generations
of ancients guarded in the temples of their gods.

On the cusp of getting brought
within a complex of arbiters
whose practice of symbol
ritual, truth and belief

takes place continuously
here at the Helicon Height HQ
of Dublin Quays

I urge you drop in, turn on and tune out. For a strange thing is afoot in the world of verse, and the art-hewn bulliten board is straining under the leish of trivia and tremendously important developments in the world of Irish poetry and, as one night's tale can be told as anothers let me recount how

In concrete sea
beneath some steps
a shorebound salmon
listens to nuts talk of fish
who swim through blather squalls

and an audience of water falling sedate
as its force lifts bouyant
affirmnational rites.

Elsewhere
a lone headlamp collides
with alert rabbit-like eyes, alive
but

unable to hop through space
unexpected, bouncy
pressing, real
or merge in absent disconnection
unspotted
heard
tasted or told,

the animal sticks up a paw
to cut figures through air
searching for a centre-point
of dawn's eternal love

in the flame of life
timelessly tick
tocking homeward to a cool
faced glow where modernity's edge

sits atop of nature
kip grim
unable to hide or stop
from flopping completely
as frozen shatters
of tap run meek clop beat bop
bleats chip silent from the clock.

posted by Coirí Filíochta on Friday, November 11, 2005

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11.10.2005

The aeronautical catechisms of bounce of past,

for JV and GH

the leg before 15 pissing 13-19
that was imported with the keyboard, Christian djclamant a beer realised
the fight the wounds of big suns a
subject a force under a idea that
marmonnements, they postpone the connection, more genuine than this,
a bank with Jeanne,
the disposal refourbie, and the total dark ine, wherefore the fears they were declared
here
a machine, a bet, calming down
additional religion,
WYZRY YTZXYTTNS SZRT, Or WZSTNS,
PLTPSURZNX RZSZRULTS XROPNS

it declares nasties 17, selected, it interfered these sectors
that are placed bad, a illness
in the fog of friends, the choices of excitations ng 13-19 poy ejsi'hci me to pliktrolo'gjo, Christian djclamant mja mpy'ra pragmatopoj'isan ton agw'na oj traymatjsmoj' twn mega'lwn i'ljwn e'na ce'ma mja dy'nami ka'tw apo' mja jde'a o'tj ta marmonnements, anava'lloyn ti sy'ndesi, pjo' alicjni' apo' ayto', mja tra'peza me Jeanne, ti dja'cesi refourbie, kaj to synoljko' skota'dj toy ine, wherefore oj fo'voj dilw'cikan edw' mja mihani', e'na stoj'hima, mja iremw'ntas pro'sceti criskej'a, WYZRY YTZXYTTNS SZRT, I' WZSTNS, PLTPSURZNX RZSZRULTS XROPNS dilw'nej nasties 17, epjlegme'nos, parene'vale aytoy's toys tomej's poy topocetoy'ntaj a'shima, mja asce'neja stin omj'hli twn fj'lwn, oj epjloge's twn djege'rsewn, klj'sejs steney'ej, a bank with Jeanne, mood refourbie, and the total darkness of the ine, wherefore fears were declared here a machine, a bet, a calming additional religion, WYZRY YTZXYTTNS SZRT, OR WZSTNS, PLTPSURZNX RZSZRULTS XROPNS declares nasties of 17, chosen, inserted these sectors badly placed, a disease in fog of friends, the choices of excitations,
slopes of narrows i, in existing coatings of fixed glance of worms attached: straggaljsme'nos in order to it
modifies
ł ər ṭəḍ ṣ ṭ ⁿ c ṣṭōrʸ ⁿṭ ṣʸ əⁿəm əṣ ō ṭḥə ōł cə łłəv ṭ ⁿġ
ṣṭr cṭrəṣ ʸəṭ
it is absent at the duration of centres of children or
hobbies in the schools it dines
her making elegance of madnesses consequently,
barriers of cover
a usual grease the existence extended boys and the women
of father it induces the expensive or cancelled fresh shoes that: , destroying in the
huh numbers, extract from connecions unenormous stena'zontas,

private of timetables of blows culivate it boils that had fun,
aerjwcoy'menoy plane in air, firmament, and escapes

posted by TT on Thursday, November 10, 2005

(6) Comments:

Why thank you. I feel embedded in your language.

# posted by Jean Vengua on 9:08 AM

Thanks for finishing this off. I hadn't realized, by the way, how distorted my link in the chain had become in this cached version. Here's wishing David Nemeth a good trip wherever he goes!

Geof

# posted by Geofhuth on 4:05 PM

I am glad that is over! not the poem, but 13-19

beautiful work, seriously, additional beautiful

# posted by ryan on 6:36 PM

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

# posted by TT on 10:33 PM

dbqp has "The Past's Ricocheting Aeronautical Catechisms" referred to as "13-19." The cache is missing.

# posted by TT on 10:42 PM

There is an internet archived version of Bernstein’s Homolinguistic Translation Chain.

# posted by TT on 10:47 AM

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11.05.2005

i'got'Caught(up)"in"'

posted by harry k stammer on Saturday, November 05, 2005

(4) Comments:

lovely neon signs :)

Crescent

# posted by Crescentsi on 4:59 AM

hey Harry this is beautiful

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 8:23 AM

magnifique, my friend!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 10:26 AM

crescent, renee, sheila, thanks!

cheers, harry

# posted by harry k stammer on 1:30 PM

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11.03.2005

cementric
forelawn glee
cyclic apres-midi

*

in nature, flows
discredit forced
leads

*

disseminist
forensic juridicies
lay waste to

*

fossils found in
true cahoots
eureka

*

plum
fest seasoning
age of lark

*

broth simmers perfect
au-jus
crux

*

semaphore
endangers precis
all at once

*

as the crow
flies one
decides

posted by Sheila Murphy on Thursday, November 03, 2005

(4) Comments:

:)

# posted by Crescentsi on 2:08 PM

Words invoking images, tnx Sheila.

I used a phrase _out of context_ to clarify an image, hope this is ok.

Posted here

# posted by ed schenk on 9:52 AM

What you've done is great, Neon, and I love what you have posted on your site. The photograph is really strong. Thanks!

# posted by Sheila Murphy on 12:06 PM

o this is so v lovely

# posted by ryan on 2:27 PM

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11.02.2005

(in) focus'd

posted by harry k stammer on Wednesday, November 02, 2005

(7) Comments:

odderwordly

# posted by Karri Kokko on 3:01 AM

pop-art :)

# posted by Crescentsi on 2:06 PM

you know i was thinking pop art the day before i did this, maybe even a little Hank III, gotta get back to the (those) thunder storms in west texas and the nightly display south of roswell of meteor showers...

cheers, harry

# posted by harry k stammer on 6:18 PM

take that last
"of" out,
ok?

hks

# posted by harry k stammer on 6:20 PM

This look real neat

# posted by Renee Wagemans on 1:47 AM

Harry -

I reckon that would look really good blown up really large on a big computer screen, or even on a canvas.

Cheers
Crescent

# posted by Crescentsi on 10:30 AM

Hi Renee :)

Crescent

# posted by Crescentsi on 10:32 AM

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