collage postcard 2

Illuminations of The Dadaist Tesseract Church of the Asemic Existentialist & Möbius Otherhood

Psalm 1.1

 

Sh’hway’d Moctezuma was lonely in Mount Tezumah’h Land. After defeating the Lost Artz-D’tecs, he realized they can provoke emotions. Washing the cup will remove the soft gum stains from your soul, but as Moctezuma discovered, it does nothing for an empty heart, longing for love. He was so sh’hway’d now.

 

Ordinary Missing Person came riding into town on the weekly Turkey Express; a river of unwept tears ran down the muddy street, like a dalmatian chase in a Disney cartoon.

 

I’m really embarrassed, the postcard was a week late.

 

At least that is what he told himself, as the collateral damage walked in the door, wearing a cubist smile and carrying a crumpled concrete poem in the shape of a fortnight soirée.

There was no other option – the next day, his departure is a cold sunrise, as he attempted to casually walk behind the sign of resurrection in front of the crew.

 

The Succinct Puccini Ward reminds me of mushrooms,and a natural touch- the way of life is fixed in the sand. Feel the abstinence-T’laczantjzollii in the afternoon air, a mega-spider devouring the possibilities. The fire lived near it. Makes many acres of dreams within a cardboard package, waiting to be delivered to a people thirsty for art and a stream of consciousness. Flies / mosquitoes / wind / sun / reptile engine frogs always express internet planting isotope, isotope cleaning also performed in the round for 2 days- I always see the Azutek pillow fights in the morning mist as it bleeds into the lawns, a cellophane figment of personified perpendicular catharsis pigments. Too much leisure often makes a cup full of mouths and pillars, like so many fulcrums of promenadian rhyme-schemes in a jeremiad prose prance.

 

asemic postcard 125

 

Professor Phizzobe,

obscure game aesthetics –

all para-icicles and non-waves solarize,

It resembles instinctive hedonism.

Hedonism hurries

towards deep motion

&

the soft gums.

I hope you are well.

~ Johaene Dexter Ward

 

 

Professor Phizzobe,

 

Due to his study of idolatry, the furnishings are nice and sociable. Unfortunately, Ward’s confusion grows with each passing day. The November Moon will soon consume his mind.

I look forward to your presentation on the metaphysics of sour dough bread making.

~ Thadeus

 

 

 

 

The Sage Steampunk Dadaist Pontificates

 

Structure of sanguine

Strip substage systems-

Wires are big printers,

so fleeting fittings,

fittings’ footprints,

shows your shadows

in sensational sepulchre shrouds.

 

 

Under the use

of facilitating

formulaic working formalism

of sanity deposits,

comes an ice-storm –

steaming locomotives

spin their sails

as flying carrier pistons

orate onomatopoeic odes

of omniscient ostranenie –

consulting North smashes

undefined strudel apathy –

industrial installation artwork

arises.

 

This is the arrhythmia of our times –

a slouchy beanie

on photonic traversal

to temporal particle Babylon

belligerently became

a cult piece of knitted couture,

 

knitwear

for

beanbag

machinists & sievewrights.

 

Spontaneous driving –

 

Societal Displacement Theory –

Magnet locks protrude,

Growing attachment to

apropos of nothing.

 

Take the pneumatic bus to central inquiry –

initiate rebranding campaign,

scale and substance

surgery.

 

 

Vintage Chew-Masque

in patent steam symmetry

Must be used,

Become the main piston-

Bold twine prides

Nouveau-Roman

Intelligence Syndrome.

Brutalist architecture

protocol devastates

Languid Lake allegory.

 

 

You need to work

on duodecimo dreams.

Open the window

for mime accuracy

mime mimicry

mimicry modulations

modulation’s monstrosities

mellow the peach stones

 

 

 

biprism’s heliographic dream

shimmering

in

mellow modulating

miming mind-fields.

 

 

 

It’s not Under-Up Dystopia,

the vintage patent symmetry

recovers downright

knitted knowledge

neurology wires –

beyond bemused

crotchet clouds

punch-cards ascend.

 

 

 

 

By your fitting hand,

tropic sand breezes

near

refined topographically

torn torrid man.

 

 

 

You will be windowed exactly.

You will be windowed exactly.

All vents topographically torn.

All vents topographically torn.

 

 

Topographically torn by torrid hands,

This lack of elements

the source of warm rings –

get to the vestibule,

worry later.

 

 

Elevator bodywork, bodywork.

Elevator bodywork, bodywork.

The mouse works.

 

 

Facilitate Steam of Consciousness while Ur-piles last.

 

 

Meiosis gears grind

Grating political gerunds.

Toad Abodes topple with turgid beams.

 

 

  

That element does not adjust the riser –

this bodes well,

this bodes well.

 

 

NOTE: Many of the images in this post are older works, that were original composed & posted on Dark Pines Photo. Clicking those images will open the original post in a new browser tab.

 

 

reminiscences of a night out dreamed

Otiose Arches wasted in the square –

sand bridges are art.

 

 

Attachment to masonry –

specific passion in readers,

of some, even our lovely Camera Obscuras sing.

 

playing with a reclamation of poetic history,

sigma stalks stigmata,

evens the score

beneath shadowed spindles,

pricking both finger and tongue

before sleep hastens

visions and jumbled horizons.

 

 

 

They ate delicacies and memories, while sipping their tea – the patio overlooked the Piazza of Pernicious Palindromes. They are doing the reclamation work – like the only thing that took their eyes through this stage of stagnating molecular management, clams clinging to teasing conundrums and pileated pie-plates.

 

 

 

Themed, the writing works sleight of hand, and weathered faces became whitish granite, turning into crinkly text – partners next to the rosebushes, chosen by a clamorous contextual cat, scampered midst the paper cups and the penumbrae, kleptomania of the soul – and thoroughly timed, like a charcoal portrait slipping intransigently into a mirrored reflection of dancing clock hands, out walked a wise witch carrying a wearying expression in her catchall.

 

It is archaeology – they wore down dusty carpets, together with fascinating motifs – your opinions cascaded from your lips, like a Ouija planchette in a candle lit room. Used fingers rippling hard, well provenanced providence, thank weak words for those two women’s ghost tenement.

 

The Love-friend gently partakes of kisses and anxiety- the integral integer institution sent Halloween historicism stoically into solipsism, such sweet marrow-misery.

 

Indigenous asemic dialect –

too novel for scorpion-hands,

or owl eyes.

 

After you, came no-nounce-words, like a cesarean nonunion, leaping over a moonlit cow – so, who had the opera tickets in their pearl purse the whole time, while the bus wailed about the triumph of non-euclidean tetralogy and cavernous isomorphic Cheetos – it wasn’t the ophthalmologist…

Have taken information on southerly entopic-writing art fisticuffs because doing warm spadework beneath a regime revolts the wavering doe. They talked for hours over the rims of broken cups and cut diamonds. Then that drowned magazine buffered the recorder. Doesn’t whispering lips instill the I into each All?

The bathroom strikes over the sphere. It has taken comments and reevaluated the artworks’ online snow; those eyes then upped responses: all dark dramatic monologues must attend the evening dance dilemma.

 

 

You down stories before my deep night forgives wanton anger; coming off wonderful settle-challenges, the Used Shark shakes out thanks, like small mercies in a November wind.

 

 

When can anonymous porters enlarge a needles needless resemblance to Thursday’s rumination? By the sweep of sleep, they secretly to go fish – keeping this silent slippage between the lines of commentary – and have in us a repository of tears and rust hares.