hieroglyphs for a new age socialist capitalism

Come buy hieroglyphs for a new age socialist capitalism –

Here are glyphs,

there are glyphs,

everywhere ya’ go are glyphs.

 

a nut with

a

hammer

above us….

(remember, I

warned you there is

life

in the dancing machinery,

as night fractures the fetters of my neighbour’s dreams –

 

 

rain on the heavy traffic –

I was full of ink & memories

& crazy

& hats floated over public beards like billboard clouds”

– the buses are burning them,

once again with platitudes of consumerism dressed up as social activists marching for the children of the night/here they howl for Freedom & the Latest Authentic Sexy Deodorant)

– not just brazen jackdaws, as in them were icicles of care & despair

– once the clock died of boredom,…. the seconds have not

slept well… neither have I ……

 

The

city…?

I don’t believe,

me too!

 

Last night my

neighbours’

“wastebaskets”,

hands in tatters,

their torsos of lighting sang of whales near the coast of Dalarnja; we all follow them & sail away to the shores of Graustark &

Anguthimri….

 

my neighbourhood,

a godforsaken pannier of tears & teacups,

is modulated by seagulls & cats

clinging to advertisements –

 

You Too Can have New Friends & A Perfect Face !!

Even in the Drizzle of Grey Mourning !

Now Improved with Extra Vitamins & Megabytes !

– and makes me stop & stare at

my neighbour,

wasted basking nets

 

– and makes me flop over my n’nàbaidh’s worn out footsteps putting out the garbage & the recycling,

hoping climate change won’t crack open the chasm of Xenophobia & Leagenphobia ,

raking up the shadows – constructed offal,

lies & one time offers,

as crackling theorems ignite,

divulge burning forests in the shape of cultural change & ocean currents …..

once – not ravens or seers,

as in hailstones,

there are many unsafe….

 

and in the rain,

covered in scabs,

like hieroglyphs on yesterday’s skin,

the neighbourhood is full of

refugees from angry tweets,

commercials & pullout ads.

 

Note: Taking inspiration from Nia’s post  Cloudy Morning

& using the Text Mixer tool I composed the Dadaist meditation on cultural observations.

 

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Asemic Tarot Card 17 – Girls night out ~ Snow White Tasha

The Kurata Butterfly is worthy of the Snow White era.

As time went on, the I continued.
Because I is very small, my eyes are mysterious.


Someone is not very cool, green, and laughing.
Indigo lost mist – sympathy as before.
Let’s go to the sand now.

Ta

Tasha makes a phone call from an open window –

girls night out:

 

Gelatine gear gazette geese

gaudy gasometer gash

gauche gasket gaps gasps

In Spain, forests are found and cherished.
Let’s be in Spain.

mQW12^L><

It was a yearning and a horror.
– when you sleep on a happy green night.
Do not forget that knight’s nostalgia.
Remember surveillance of “I am”.

Miscellaneous misapprehension

makes mischief

mislaid revolt.

 

Do not Forget That Night’s Nostalgia

Do not forget that Night’s Nostalgia. See the cover lifted to simply reveal a bunch of people in a room.

Memory’s melange has a way with words, scenes, fragments flitting about the peripheral vision – whispered surd hints tell us there won’t be much in the way of narrative and character development.

 

There is a mystery of sorts, strange missives – a mystery man, but those may all be read as ciphers and masques to some grand uniting metaphor, whose avant-garde decline into an empty wellspring beguiles logic.

 

I wrote it when I was this phantom, yearning for sharp details, while caught in the horror of an obsessive degree of inquiry – an intuition, vague as a stained glass portrait illuminated by frost .

Before I spent a shy snigjihuff, the domain of conceptual exemplification – shadowed by footsteps, there was still more of a cautious fumbling towards an image, an artifact – summing up the accounts without exactly summing it up.

Mo ki chak nan nou ka gou kreye yon Nostalgie trè memorab – yon santiman, yon ton tanki nan mande endirèkteman. Noire pati nan jaden kite te poster palla sansasyonèl tach sou moso twal la kreyatif nan chonje ake mojo lubije.

きたのCrabs are worthy, sea stained postcards from the age of nostalgia; those that find the love of zero create a profession, one of whose aspects is the pretense of overthrowing conformity. Only the lonely know the cacophony of tears – one of whose fractals is the pretense of undermining individuality.

^%formity > flower petals floating in the cistern catechism

feathered dragons watch weary eyed –

broken moonlight moves between branches,

low moans cascade over moss covered roots

&

now comes

Works that each of us can taste, a very memorable nostalgia – a feeling, a tone of determined indirectness.

 

た&%Crows absorb the worthy souls,turning them into feathers in the age of nostalgia – those that find the love of non-geometric abstract space create a profession, one of whose aspects is the intensity of over abundance – throwing conformity into the mix, Pintura Matèrica of the Psyche.

As time has come, I continue – and, remembering the surveillance, together we still all went to the decapod of “I am”. Still, in the same way, we had a “something” rope man – you always like such qualities. We tied it to hopes and missed opportunities – sprayed it all on the wall and fastened them with Automatic Tachisme Writing – we declared we had defined Spatialism in this Age of Uncertainty.

 

Do not forget that Night’s Nostalgia.

 Source-Inspiration:

1 History of 20th century Art Movement – see embedded links

2 Spanish definition of Nostalgias – taken through translation software

3 Roman Muradov on Designing Book Cover  for Norah Lange’s People in the Room

4 Nostalgias performance by Buika

 

 

Asemic Snapshots : Translating Poetic Truth.

I discovered Federico Federici (aka Antonio Diavoli ) by way of his posts on Asemic & Concrete Poetry. He has a rich fascinating blog. While putting his post, Da “Per innata difesa (variazioni sul tema dell’umore)” – 03.11.2004, through a Google translation, I decided to experiment a bit.

I first did a translation directly from the Italian to English. I then decided to move the Italian to English by way of Haitian Creole to Javanese to Japanese. As syntactical structure, idiom, and vocabulary shift, the translation moves even further into the metaphorical. Federico Federici’s language, already, rich with images & metaphor, has the literal & linear components stretched and reconfigured, as the filter of multiple software translations interpret the text. Meaning is added, subtracted, and recalibrated within an implied space, where text, linguistics, and human expression is calculated by software.

I took the screen shots and used them to create Asemic Snapshots of Translating Poetic Truth. The whole process becomes an example of the Mass Media principle of Necro-media, Mass Media consuming other forms of media and turning them into content.

 

 

 

The final outcome is to wonder if we have moved closer to understanding or further away. Has new meaning been generated by crating different media context ? If so, how does it inform the original media text ? Consider how this process functions in the current world of social media, reshaping the context of politics, social norms, and personal & public interaction.