Friday, July 21, 2006


Automatic writing was something of a hit when William S Burroughs was around. You know it still happens..for better or for worse. He shot his wife in the head 'accidentally' or was it 'automatically' whilst playing William Tell...These things still happen. Damned accidents. Anyhow here's an example of some personal automatic poetry written, recorded, then played back in reverse and recorded!

Playin in Reverse;

watch those animals fading away/their scent disappears/decay envelopes day/the night so still shall scare me/the man whose real eyes does see/rising higher from shackles here im higher.

see watch us rip/nice boy, good flip/now the song plays in reverse/a verse/or a muted note stuck in the girls throat

she struggles hard to release it/but it won't be dislodged./it can't be forgotten at what cost.../she says....

are you a servant/are you a sorcerer/she wants you to sing it/before all's forgot/hear watch your step, you could slip/call a sheriff try him out/say sheriff we're all lost and our hair is falling out/he knows air is now ceramic

it's our hair thats falling out/we snip at and spit out/man your a house spirit/and we know there's a sheriff in the room/hear its all you've heard/in space there is no room nothing left but a harmonic tune

effervescent child now/scalped what you didn't hock/snip snip fills our ears/hear the door was never locked/serendipity steals our care/there's a beat up girls face in the air/higher and higher she floats without a trace/her hair now ceramic not part of the race/she's scared while it shifts/not scarred as flesh rips
the sheriff won't help her now/he's tied down to sentiments of the knot now

are we just here from the not now/memory pains and all those remains/ that you/scarred flesh within life's well spun mesh/sheriff says i serve this hell/i look beyond the rotting flesh he smells so well/the sheriffs nearer/the snip snip sound clearer/the skys all beat up ~ this guys all beat up/he's in a sad place lost and redundant a robot face/he's a spare servant/he's higher without it/i smile he's broken through it/...that snow cold box inner hell

so he's freer now without his face/the ceramic girl knows nothing exists in space/stay out retro singer your a colourfly passing by/walk to a beat now soldier/man what in the hell was that/hair of a spirit left knee deep graces a doormat

now play in reverse/watch the line, hear the verse/coming to an end is the beginning/dying living/a corpse still breathing air/and there's nothing left to say now/no words left to be said/a corpse creating hair/her bleeding eyes see with poetic stare/and its still her face while she fits there

stay down your gonna fall up/into the night and far beyond /a memory's reflection and echoes/see us float higher into space/like nitrous like notes/like death like we float/alice thats me sortid out/spun out no need to shout/as i drink from the higher appetite/through saliva sealed lips/mind turns blue into the night soul eclipse.

playin in reverse/watch the line/hear the verse/these are the secrets of the universe
lifes sentence/death born curse.


PS When bohemians put their crazy heads together strange things emerge. The pictures, if you're wondering, that accompany this piece are automatic ... A guy is released from a psych ward, purchases a pig's head and calls me. I then call a doctor, a photographer, a teacher and a chemist. We invade the location where some animators are working diligently ... we get a little intoxicated and proceed to work in the once fine, now rubble-delapidated Civic Theatre. We shoot to thrill ... if you're offended by these photos please remember what you digested last nite ... we just play with society's left overs! Mayhem OUT!

No comments: