THE RESULT OF A DRASTIC EDIT. a garbalisation. no flash photography please.

...and now

a written out poetry in writ out writing
that jokes and pokes a pointed stick at
the seriousness of society
using the contemporary techniques
of clairvoyance derision
cut-up drink & chance collision.

All poetry is found poetry, all poetry
is cut-up

(all poetry is made up)

"Fact of fiction?" she said,
raising her eyebrows
turning her head. "In fact,
and to tell you the truth, it matters little
to me," said Bree.
"For in fact I accept both fact and fiction
as similar."

I collect my material from many sources and appropriate
freely
a large amount of this collection consisting of
garbled miss-reads
which oddly enough usually seem to work
just as well
and after numerous edits and several
rewrites
there may only be a trace of
the original left, if that,
so,

when I am reading, researching
and a certain phrase or section
strikes me as applicable and usable

within a certain contextural situation
that I am attempting to construct

then I will use it.

"Creativity is learning to hide your sources."
Albert Einstein.

"The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources."
Albert Einstein.

"Look son,
let's have a bit of fun."

as nail brilligs, as screw mimsys, as bolt brilligs,
we will gamble onto our bolt and gire into
the screw. So much so that
when plug and bold gamble, it's soon enough
a good enough slithy.
Indeed, as nail brilligs, so will we slithy
like screw right through, though not into
bolt.
Indeed, you may mimsy our nut
(please do) but this will only gimble
our screw,
blue.

Old shoes/Left out in the rain/I take your hand/Suddenly/I want to laugh/
Same old aches/Same old pains/

Today/Only the foolish whistle.

"You may say that all of your pronouncements are, in fact,
language-like, but in the end
I could never concede that any of your verbalisations are,
in fact, any kind of recognisable language, in fact
your kind of speaking in tongues is closer to some kind of
schizophrenic's word-salad rather than any kind of
devine language."

"I'm glad
rather than sad
that Lewis Carroll
was mad,"
said the doormouse to
the Mad Hatter,
as they dipped
the last of the chattering
children,
for Alice
up at the Palace,
in batter.

an AVOW'WOK

and
in answer to Tonies recent
enquiry request

an
AVOW'WOK is

a glossomania
of spoken broken
far flung tongue
that once were was
the ancient spell spokes
of witch speaks
like tongue twisting or
chinese whisper or
bible babble

orb
in other worms
and during more recent
dung flung tides

THE AVOW'WOK IS
THE SLIPPERY TOVE
THAT GIRES AND
GIMBLES
IN THE WANDERING WABES
OF SLANGUAGE

THE THING
THAT SLIDES AND SLIMES
AND ADLIBS
down the bibs of babes
IN CRIBS
the rash
of recent toilet telephone talk

like
THEsecretMESSAGESfound
whilePLAYINGaRECORDbackwards

ORfrigwords

nothingism. the new reality that is nothingness. postmodern science for the postmodernist. matter doesn't really matter and now matter knows it.

a reality full of holes
fractured cracked
crumbling

a reality that melts
increasingly
as our examining look
examines it
(until)

we find ourselves
finally
upon the threshold of
an open shore
a noplace a nowhere
shivering shyly beneath
a cold burning nosun
confronted by
a terribly sudden herenow
and tiptoe tetering
upon the edge of
the abyss
of nothingness

or so says a recent book
by the noted scientist
henry adams
in

measuring the
unmeasurable
subtitled
attempting to empty
the ocean
with a spoon
and a tune

"in the beginning
nothing
at the end
nothing
in the middle
nothing

nothing
endlessly
deviding itself
nothing
endlessly
multiplying itself"

Tracey Emin's Sisters Bed. On Show at Fifty Three Rutters Lane. Basingstoke.

Happy clickmiss this match and mixmas. Aaaaaahh! the cats fallen over. Bobby, Bobby, Oh! Bobby, please get up Bobby.

Why Angels Can Fly.

Met Tony for tea. He. Had
egg on toast. Boasted most
about his trip to the coast.

Continually
going on about.
Attempted
galectic gamma ray sterialisation.
By Them. He then goes on to tell.
That this Them might be We.
Or at least in the future. That this They
might be We. He also thinks
that others. Are capable of launching
meteorites maliciously. The Delta Slingshot Lot.
And directly in our direction. Even capable of.
Carrying exotic wild life virus infection
injection. "We need some kind of
protection. Some kind of
fence erection."
He then tells me.

Of his recent reading. Give me
a look at his book. INTELLIGENT FALLING.
"It disputes even refutes. Laws of gravity"
Puts forward the theory that this traversty.
Is really Holy Hand of God.
Pushing apples down. Holding heaven up.

"The reason behind
Newton's inability to fly, and why
the angels
don't even have to try."

Then changing abruptly
the subject. He says.

"Last night I slapped Mary." Called her morbid,
depressed, totally self obsessed. Told her. "To get a grip
you drip. You've
flipped. "Told her that in the region
of Minus Major Minor.
Hundreds of stars were colliding. Millions
of planets dying.
"And can't you hear that terrible galactic shriek
you geek."

softFRUIT.