Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Sartre

May 6, 2010

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God is not fully
responsible for his fear
of being disproved

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Hell is another
atheist who cannot stop
thinking about God

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Politics precedes
essence . . . But literature
precedes existence

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Man is condemned to
be free of all sin in the
garden of anguish

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Three o’clock is too
late in the day to believe
in eternal truth

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The wolves of Fascism
will infect our age with a
ravenous despair

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Fertilization
prolongs the illusion of
virtuous ape love

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Books are treacherous
like sand that has escaped from
the hourglass of words

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Skepticism is a
battle in the war against
generosity

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Mark Rothko

April 27, 2010

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There is no such thing
as institutional art
that’s about something

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The decorative
is the elimination
of varied silence

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Antiquity is
a very large confined space
of eternal doom

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Human emotions
should hang as close to the floor
as is feasible

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Distortion is so
accurate . . . Clarity is
precisely nothing

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Museums are a
religious experience
without ecstasy

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An abstractionist
must fall back on the concrete
essence of living

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The largest unframed
pictures are a danger to
the small observer

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Wallace Stevens

April 8, 2010

The Emperor of Ice Cream (Triptych)

1.

Call the big cigar,
muscle a roll, call his cheese
in the kitchen and

whip concupiscent.
To wear the clothes, linger as
they used to, allow

children to spend a
month on wenches. So therefore,
yes, it can result.

The emperor is
taken from the three-glass sheet
on the embroidered

spread to meet her in
the face of the transaction
dresser. If the foot-

horny prominence
has to show how cold she is,
come speechless. Post the

beam to light the cool
emperor’s pit-lit candles’
quiet surface view.

[via Thai-Japanese-Slovenian-Swedish, Google and Bing translators]

2.

Looking for a great
cigar, her cylinder cups
vote concupiscent.

Whip-muscular whey
takes advantage of such clothes
and flower children

as are issued to
the wenches of Wisconsin.
One empire includes

her horn-cold flare lamp.
Create a ray . . . The final
projection will take

a page from the glass
emperor who enjoys the
underside of ice.

[via Turkish-Dutch-Hebrew-Hungarian, Bing translator]

3.

Ring a large cigar!
One reel of back muscles will
offer him mass whip

carrots and galley
cups. Set these dress wenches on
dawdle; they used to

let guys put flowers
in last month’s newspapers. Let
be work the final

contract. The only
imperator is not three
glass table buds where

he distributed
his face to cover romance.
Leave the horny feet

on the stupid screen
with the main beam. Only the
lamp is ice cold cream.

[via Finnish-Norwegian-Swedish-Danish-Dutch-Haitian Creole-Polish,
Bing translator]

Gertrude Stein

March 31, 2010

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It is a basic
scientific principle
that sex is like air

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America grinds
her teeth at night in cosmic
disillusionment

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Reality is
good but I like to sit with
my back turned to it

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Everybody gets
so much information they
don’t do anything

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I do want to get
rich but I don’t want to be
counting my money

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A writer should write
and a painter should paint . . . But
not in the same house

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Communists believe
in collectivism . . .  And I
believe in flowers

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It is the soothing
thing about history that
it takes so much time

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It takes a lot of
money to be a genius
in America

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Literature is
a daily miracle of
faded memory

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Art is an end in
itself . . . It is unconcerned
with what you believe

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The earth is the earth
as Picasso sees it . . . A
peasant doesn’t count

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Marriage will destroy
the family . . . I cannot
help defending it

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It is always a
mistake to have a war in
Switzerland . . . So dull!

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Hemingway’s work looks
so promising until one
sees the old swine drunk

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War is like dancing
with country-poor German girls
in a urinal

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Do not forget the
birthdays of vegetables . . .
Except for string beans

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J.G. Ballard

March 25, 2010

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Opting out of the
American Dream is a
freedom safari

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We live in a world
ruled by the politics of
mass pornography

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Marriage as we know
it is over . . .  It’s the death
of the infinite

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Reality is
the stuff inside your boring
television head

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Any fool can write
science fiction . . . It takes a
genius to live it

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You can rely on
electromagnetism for
external pleasure

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The vast conforming
language of advertising
is what I fear most

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Glorious Satori, Revealed in the Song Titles of Albert Ayler

March 9, 2010

A blood flower tree
toiling in the desert sun —
inborn drudgery.

Holy vibrations
of wizard-saints and angels —
universal bells.

Love cry of spirits!
Ghosts rejoice in healing prayer —
omega truth force.

Message from the heart —
the raising of the divine
island comes at last.

[assemblage composed entirely of words from Albert Ayler song titles]

William S. Burroughs

March 7, 2010

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My veins are pure flame . . .
Crackling blue sparks in a world
of deep pleasure need

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Conformity is
a virus . . . Catch it and you’ll
be dead in two weeks

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Happiness is a
sputtering parasitic
sewer tadpole dream

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Innumerable
machine gods are killing all
human consciousness

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A shooting spree is
the only possible way
to implement change

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Be arbitrary . . .
Your mind is a byproduct
of hope addiction

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I tend to regard
love with a special horror
like malaria

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The intestine mind
is hungry for ultimate
creative control

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Nothing exists till
a functioning paranoid
is observing it

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The architects
of political illness need
smallpox exposure

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My preconscious guts
are compulsively shitting
on Western knowledge

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Word hustlers are a
raw intoxicant like old
deviant flowers

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Most of the trouble
in this world has been caused by
cats from outer space

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In the Western Lands
intellectuals live on
biologic filth

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Nonviolence is
never the answer for a
religious asshole

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A legislator
is the face of total need . . .
Never give succor

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Anything that can
be done chemically should
by all means be done

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Kierkegaard

February 28, 2010

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Anxiety is
beautiful music . . . Regret
sounds like garish birds

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Grotesque paradox . . .
God dies in the moment of
fertilization

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God is a tyrant
who cannot be moved . . . Prayer is
the greatest danger

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It is fruitless to
quarrel with human passion . . .
Love enormously

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God is an inmate
in the asylum He built
. . . breathless with sorrow

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Purity of heart
is the root of all evil . . .
Saints creep in the dirt

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Once you label me
I am incapable of
grasping my own thought

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At the bottom of
the snare of animal love
lies indifference

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Bores are important.
Boredom is interesting.
Idleness is joy.

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The dirt cheap souls of
incalculable insects
whisper like soft sighs

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Messiaen

February 21, 2010

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liturgy of birds
crystal abyss of rainbows
the end of angels

[“Quartet for the End of Time”]

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paradise eyes of
bridal apparition marked
with the glory light

[“Illuminations of the Beyond”]

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the sun slept in dark
mountains . . . farewell gestures of
planetary love

[“Harawi”]

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interstellar gift
written in the desert rocks . . .
awe resurrected

[“From the Canyons to the Stars”]

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trumpet majesty
heaven ascending . . . Father
demanding glory

[“L’Ascension”]

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Lautréamont

February 21, 2010

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Literature is
the contradiction between
pride and nothingness

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Luminous evil
is the only remedy
for health and balance

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Logic will oppress
all the faculties . . . It is
feeding on a stone

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Supreme beauty is
a cruel punishment . . . It
sings of wickedness

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The Trinity is
a phantasmagoria
of sublime despair

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Scorn universal
laws . . . Doubt not! Gravity is
exaggerated

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Utopia is
impossible without the
sanction of good taste

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Geometry of
grandiose desire . . . Ultra
divine triangle!

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Gmail spam

February 11, 2010

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Sweet Lord, bed me on
my sun! . . . Do you remember
my body fire?

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Procure the madness
of dangerous rabbit fang
. . . off-the-chart lion

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Adam-n-Eve tree
horse-wild voltage circle
heart attack grotto

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cult gun supercharge
deep temptation oasis
Vulcanizer mind

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Soon the summer . . .  Do
not put away a good mood!
Reset excess weight!

[From the Russian, via Google and Bing translators]

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Bashō [via Google and Bing translators]

January 28, 2010

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vanishing soldier
ruins of morning glory
military eyes

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frost white tears of ice
passionate perfume minutes
incense preciousness

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lonely moon of the
gray-headed lapwing carving
a deserted tomb

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pillow fleas . . . urine
of horses . . . Yokohama
prostitute trouble

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octopus summer . . .
dream frogs leap in straw sandals
dive with bamboo socks

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enter rock silence . . .
voice of the cicada tends
the forked eye of spring

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go this road without
me . . . autumn disease journey
planting willow fields

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Wittgenstein

January 27, 2010

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I don’t know my way
about . . . View is still not clear . . .
One must be silent

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If a lion could
talk, nothing intelligent
would ever get done

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The bewitchment of
sex is war . . . A religious
night ceremony

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A soul is like a
fresh seed sown on the ground of
unlocked timelessness

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I don’t know why we
are here . . . Logic is not like
walking in the snow

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Music should be played.
Humor is transcendental.
Nothing is tragic.

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Science is the soul
of seclusion . . . The body
an unknown language

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The sun will rise on
a mirror-image of the
world . . . Vanity church

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Harmony is a
dangerous organism
that limits my world

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Silliness is no
less complicated than a
combination lock

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Reality is
a public exhibition
of stupidities

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Every culture is
tormented by the music
of eternal life

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A confession is
an inner process with not
an inkling of truth

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I awaken to
the green valleys of barren
imagination

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Tomorrow is based
on the metaphysical
mistakes of today

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In a certain sense,
to die in your sleep would be
deceiving oneself

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Contradictions are
very wise . . . They say nothing
about everything

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Pain is nothing for
the truly religious man
who sits astride death

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For man to enjoy
war he must be frightened to
death of bad spirits

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If only we had
eyes to see the horrors of
peace all around us

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Sex is a system
of misleading techniques . . . The
body knows too much

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Death is a theory,
not an activity . . . A
great hypothesis

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To lie is a part
of life . . . The deeper truth will
take care of itself

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Heidegger

January 27, 2010

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Dwell as though we know
the master of hydrogen . . .
One body essence

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Language is famine . . .
History is the stiff-necked
pettiness of life

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The possible can
save us . . . Only a god is
four-dimensional

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Suicide house . . . The
motorized organism
blockades consciousness

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Anxiety bomb . . .
Transcendence is the shepherd
of animal thought

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Selfhood is the death
garden of Being; time-space
the adversary

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Metaphysics is
essentially glorified
time calculation

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Learn to know Nothing . . .
Responsibility is
intelligible

***************

Being is a truth
formula . . . It requires
ego reduction

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If I acknowledge
that we are still not thinking,
why face life squarely?

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Man demands modern
physics . . . Extermination
on glorified ground

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Entities resolve
into the manufacture
of the world’s corpses

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Action gathers the
centuries passing away
within history

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John Cage

January 27, 2010

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Misuse the past . . .  Old
ideas are frightened of
the silence of time

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Nature is boring.
Poetry is empty space.
Destroy lullabies.

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Death is mostly a
distraction . . . A sonorous
resurrection sleep

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Ignore beautiful
music . . . We need synthetic
inconsistency

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What I’m proposing
is a noise factory that
will quiet the mind

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Photoelectric
love is completely changing
the way we exist

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A passing truck is
more musical than Schoenberg . . .
Overtone structure!

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I don’t understand
the precise morphology
of entertainment

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Godard

January 26, 2010

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If by chance you can’t
afford a color TV
then buy LSD

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Beauty is not some
great moral idea . . . It is
eternal decay

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Art is composed of
style, fashion and money
jumbled together

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The human body
is a fraud both inside and
outside . . . Pity it

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Reality is
a difficult prostitute
and we are its pimps

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Cinema is a
secret kiss between painting
and literature

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