III

Antipoetry

BOWEL

for nothing

I

I saw the worst minds of my generation regurgitated by sanity, well-fed, well considered, well dressed,

pushing others around colourless lawns at sunset ignoring easy breaks,

diabolical arsehole squares cold to the future zombie rip from the dark tomb into the evolving day,

who wealth and maintenance and clear-eyed and low stood down drinking in the natural light of thermal watered resorts pedestrians crossing cities witless to jazz,

who closed their bodies to mephisto and heard demons balancing on bungalow rooves shadowed,

who passed by universities with hot ignorant eyes hallucinating Texas and Thucydidean history away from the scholars of peace,

who were adopted by the academies for rigidity & censoring true exposes on the blinds of the hand,

who bragged in tidy rooms in suits, hording everyone's money in banks and shouting about the Terror in front of us,

who busted in their helmets with belts of anti-civilian weapons for BrisVegas,

who spat fire in homelands and pissed petrol in Hell on Earth, alive, and glossed over scorched earth day after day,

with reality, with alcohol, with nightmarish deeds, sobriety and cunt and not clitorises,

all inert matter had comparable ratios here, in Euclidean space,

myopically soft cubicles, white tiled water birthing wards, wine sales over the phone, online cyber malls of txt-head emoticon pop-up windows, moon and sun and roots still in the whispering summer mornings of where the Tigris meets the Euphrates, enshrined aphorisms and cruel slave darkness of soul,

who released people from flight paths at the end of the road from nowhere to hellish nowhere on air until the silence of feet and the elders pulled them up petrified mouth-slack and healed hope of heart all full of brilliance in the coloured shade of Humanity,

who floated all day in celestial darkness of helipads stopped in and stood out the good headed beer morning in the gentrified Oxford Hotel speaking of the stitch of good fortune on the uranium fileshare crackdown,

who listened intermittently seventy seconds from tv to fridge to convenience to Blacktown to two dollar shop to the harbour tunnel,

an unmissable fundamentalist theological dogma soliloquist chopping down the trees, up jungles, off species, out of ecosystems, hacketyhakking murmuring eating screaming lies and promises and grand narratives and square eyes and sanity prescriptions of general practitioners and Clockwork Orange rehabilitation and pacification,

pieces of ignorance engorged in partial memory loss for seven years or decades with sedated eyes, vegetables from the Hari's collected on a plate,

who appeared out of somewhere lusting Bangkok making a trail of hardcore pornography of the globe,

enjoying Western chills and Swedish calcium enrichment and paracetamol of the New World thanks to new cures in Caribbean luxury

who knew exactly where they wanted to stay and stayed and broke a billion hearts,

who put out cigarettes in personal jets gliding through humidity away from overpopulated cities in the child morning,

who taught nothing unusual and 2 second soundbites because their home town decided to stay still at their nod in Oz,

who travelled in packs through the streets of Shanghai losing blind British devils who were not blind British devils,

who thought they were more than reasonable when the Holy Land darkened in natural agony,

who rode on camels with the merchant of Arabia on the plan of perennial midday sunlight bigtime drought,

who marched well fed and as a team through somewhere far from Houston shrouding tradition and celibacy and fasting, dumb conquistadors preaching about America and ephemera, a gullible accomplishment, and so flew back home,

who will disappear under the glaciers of Antarctica leaving behind nothing but the lustre of suits and the marble and cigar smoke of conferences convened around the oceans of Polynesia,

who disappeared on the East Coast covering up the clean-shaven criminals in long pants with small warlike eyes sterile in their white skin drowning out sense-making books,

who extinguished whole peoples promising the rational liberty of capitalism,

who collected subfascist oratories across hemispheres laughing and trussing up while the silence of Washington laughed it up, and laughed up a Wall, and the old world states also smirked,

who persisted in denial in white gymnasiums in jocks and flexing after the meat of their own kind,

who kissed the constables ass and cried blue murder in lock ups excusing their every crime with their sanitised domestic motherfucking bloody blind drunkenness,

who shat standing up in the penthouse and stayed there striking their soul dumb,

who passed laws against being fucked in the ass by the average Joe, and smiled with distaste,

who scorned and were scorned by those inhuman demons, the prison guards, tortures of Persian and Caribbean hate,

who diced in the afternoon in the mornings under rosewindows and wood of private cloisters and nativities gathering thoughts avariciously from only the initiates,

who cleared their throats once trying to keep a straight face but wound up with a giggle in front of a joint in the English mud when the swarthy devil came to heal them with a sword,

who found their misogynist in the three young charmers of fortune the one toothed charmer of the homosexual Hollywood the one toothed charmer that winks out of the testicles and the one toothed charmer that shakes her booty and stitches up the juvenile white threads of the payola boom,

who took cold showers and didn't bother with a bottle of beer a porno a package of nicotine replacement lozenges a lightswitch and climbed into bed, away from the ground up the hall and began with a statistics periodical and economics and fell asleep,

who soured the sensuality of a million girls, frozen in the sunrise, but were blue skinned in the morning and prepared to fuck them anyway, discarding bodies under barns and naked in the lake,

who abhorred whoring outside in well protected cars, #.#., obvious hero of other stories, castrato and Calaban of the Dead Sea - fear the prophecy of his one fuck from his boys in full skyscrapers and abattoir front offices, video rental stores new dumps, in valleys on mountaintops or with fat eaters in strange roads companioned blanket wrappings and maybe well known hotel foyer dialogues, but not foreign main streets,

who hit the stage in small sanitised talk shows, holding still hopelessness, sleeping under a gradual smalltown, and let themselves be drawn into penthouses high on heartfelt okays or platitudes of country wood connectedness driven to employment sweatshops,

who ran, all day, with blood on their hands, at a single desk, never minding if locks to the East were closed to fields of wheat,

who repackaged insignificant hopeful comedies in flat backyards under the peaceful red fairy lights of Christmas and their feet shall be shod in flannel in fame,

who vomited roast vegetables of erudition or ruminated a la bovine at the clear top of the mountains of the Ritz,

who grinned at the fighting in the streets with their limousines empty of taste and good words,

who stood on globes choking in the light over the tunnel, and sank down to demolish pianos in their basements,

who swallowed every layer of Nirvana raised up with smoke over the clear sea surrounding green pedestals of esoterica,

who typed all day pontificating under pedestrian accounts which in the golden morning were ledgers of sense,

who made raw fresh salad leaves trunk roots flowers dhal and mashed potatoes restraining themselves from the bloody animal kingdom,

who climbed out of vegetarian restaurants having found chicken,

who synchronised their watches on the roof to determine destiny within space, and rested their toes on snooze buttons every night for the last decade,

who stitched up suicides' wrists intermittently successfully, stuck to it and decided to close novelty auctions where they knew they were staying young and were satisfied,

who were resurrected in their guilty silk pajamas on some street far from whispers of mercurial prose and the sober resonance of the marshmallow horde of fashion and the duckshit slick purrs of the giants of advertising and the sweet liquor of righteous halfwit authors, or were talked up by the sober personally owned assault vehicles of absolute bullshit,

who said they threw children off the boat this didn't really happen and fronted up well known and famous out of the blinding tirade of Waspville meat and veg mainstreets and policecars, selling free water,

who closed their curtains and hoped, minded the gap, emerged from the clean swimming pool, put negroes on a pedestal, turned a frown upside down, swept up broken bottles behind safety warnings archived vinyl records of futuristic 80s American Britpop started the milk and swallowed humming out of the convenience dispenser, jingles in their ears and the ding of miniaturised mobile network devices,

who drove up country lanes of retirement coming to their tepid social venue and Bavarian folk disembodiment,

who stayed in Denver, who was born in Denver, who never left Denver, and waited successfully, who was taken care of by Denver and enthused and facilitated in Denver and finally went home knowing the time, and now Denver is companionable for her minions,

who got up in gold lust mines demanding each other's damnation and darkness and arses, long after the body had hidden its skin for a long time,

who buried their heads in car safety air bags going to get predictable do-gooders with silver tails with the stench of faux shit who droned saccharin pink to the Haight Ashbury,

who started their careers in Canada to scrape the cream off popular habit, or Texas to tender bibles or Bangkok to girls or Silicon Valley to the beige machine or gradschool.com to Freidman to Rand to the gravy train or paediatrics,

who refused reasonable trials accusing the audience of humanism and had justice removed and blood on their hands and hung the jury,

who ate lobster with students of the Enlightenment and previously had excused themselves from the sandstone vaults of the science building with long hair and monotone footnotes on fecundity, deconstructing the differance of cybernetic intelligence,

and who were taken instead to the ethereal cornucopia of diabetes Metamucil insulation firewalking physio welfare disease pong and memory,

who in warm encouragement supported many clay, grass and synthetic tennis stadiums, drumming up incessant hyperactivity.

leaving years before to get laser hair replacements, and botox and pedicures, to the hidden rational inception of greenfields tax havens of the West,

Citigroup, Royal Bank of Scotland, Westpac wood and brass halls, partnering with whoever returns on the sale, rolling over bedrock funds around the clock companies exchange floor binary symbol futures of trade, reality of death a dream, virtual fortunes of vapour as light as the sun,

and let's be mother-fucking straight, there's many more shit books to be sold out of shopping mall windows, and many more windows open all night, and many more answers to telemarketers, and many more empty brick veneers filled up with the many more home furnishings, a polished brass door knocker, more or less the hopeless bulk of reality-

ah, Lark, while you are safe I am not safe, and now you're pretending to be total human concrete of space-

and what hypothesis waltzed along the warm boulevards nonchalant with a slow glow of the useless obtuse conglomeration an unvarying estimate and the still stochastic,

who could not dream and killed connections in space and time through images sanitised, and released the devil of rhetoric from 2 sound bites and removed compound verbs and buried the adjective and comma of consciousness apart held down with the indifference of whatever.

to rehash the guff without measure of bad mechanical poetry and sit you down dumb and stupid and sleepy with self satisfaction, sucked in while harping on the body to reject the monotony of exercise in your shrouded and puny mind,

the rational economist and entrepreneur beast of the short term, balanced risk, while covering up there what might go undisclosed until some time after we're dead

and descended disembodied in the bald faced tonguelessness in the fool's gold shimmer of the self and sucked the wealth of the world’s innocent body for spite into a "... but wait there's more!" spruiker call that sedated the suburbs down to the last socket

with the feature cosmetics of the nostalgia of age sutured into our own souls nauseating regurgitation every moment.

II

What TV of gas and uranium glued shut their cogitations and spewed out their bloody minded ignorance?

Lizard! Popular! Clean! Pretty! Dishes and dollars on trees! Children singing up the ladder! Boys laughing in armies! Old men backslapping in clubs!

Lizard! Lizard! Sweet dream of Lizard! Lizard the lovey dovey! Physical Lizard! Lizard taking women lightly!

Lizard the packaged liberty! Lizard the segregated idea soul exile and happiness not shared! Lizard whose destruction is ill-conceived! Lizard a little cradle of pacification! Lizard the bull military!

Lizard whose body is pure airplay! Lizard whose humour is stable debt! Lizard whose heels are countless civilians! Lizard whose gut is incremental famine! Lizard whose mouth is a smoke free restaurant!

Lizard whose ears are a few deaf doors! Lizard whose houses sit by wide streets like endless limbos! Lizard whose slums sleep mute on a clear day! Lizard whose purifiers and pipes ensure the city appears unblemished!

Lizard whose love is finite oil and bandwidth! Lizard whose soul is blackouts and credit cards! Lizard whose wealth is the billboard of stupidity! Lizard whose chance is a viagra spam! Lizard whose anonymity is visceral!

Lizard in whom I sit under surveillance! Lizard in whom I wake to zombies! Sane in Lizard! Respectable in Lizard! Sexless and married in Lizard!

Lizard who left my mind too late! Lizard in whom I am an empty body! Lizard who cuddled me into it's unnatural boredom! Lizard whom I embrace! On the nod in Lizard! Darkness welling up from the ocean!

Lizard! Lizard! Biochemical farms! Visions of suburbs! Obese debts! Transparent labour! Angelic communities! Incorporated multinationals! Vulnerable knowledge shares! Plastic hens! Adorable flowers!

We made ergonomic chairs keeping Lizard in the doghouse! Gardens, light posts, ethernets, micrograms! Suppressing the village to Limbo which is fake and does not exist anywhere inside them!

Blindfolds! shrugs! clarifications! empirical tests! mundanities! coming up the old world wasteland!

Broad daylight! indifference! vapours! reasons! half the constipated sensible cow sense!

Dogmas! head in the sand! stillbirths! come up the drought! Lows! Clouds! Fun! Ten minutes' people greetings and revivals! Bodies! Stale hatred! Rational killing! Up on the sands of space!

Bogus profane war cries from the mountain! They showed only half! the tame camera! the base whispers! They jailed offshore! They threw on the floor! to surveillance! cuffing! copyrighting seeds! following the hill! hiding home!

III

Nameless Lark! I left you in the Pacific where you're more sensible than I am

I left you in the Pacific where you can't feel very normal

I left you in the Pacific where you dissemble a father's lamp

I left you in the Pacific where you've rescued your twelve bosses

I left you in the Pacific where you cry at this vision of hate

I left you in the Pacific where we are dumb nobodies on the same alluring screen

I left you in the Pacific where your condition is stable and goes unnoticed

I left you in the Pacific where the ineptitude of the soul admits the holes of reason

I left you in the Pacific where you decline the piss of the dicks of the bachelors of Sparta

I left you in the Pacific where you explain the thoughts of your patients the uptown nymphs

I left you in the Pacific where you whisper in your speedos that you’re winning the game of the virtual progress to the peak

I left you in the Pacific where you touch the hyperactive force the body is corrupt and mortal it must die holy in a pacified CBD

I left you in the Pacific where fifty more sedatives will return your body to its soul for the first time returning from a cornucopia

I left you in the Pacific where you abnegate your doctors of sanity and counter-action entrenches fundamentalism for the free market international pelvis

I left you in the Pacific where you can't join the divided continents and bury your dead animal politician in the all too human home

I left you in the Pacific where some sensible individuals stood apart humming a few bars of some hit

I left you in the Pacific where we wrestle and headbut the unAmerican behind our curtains the unAustralian that snores all night and puts us to sleep

I left you in the Pacific where we go to sleep neutralised into the attention deficit by your own bodies submarines silently under the waves they've come to launch demonic bombs the morgue dims us concrete walls rise up O fat ones crawl inside O expect merciless coloured flags the ephemeral peace is gone O vanquished remember your raincoat we're enslaved

I left you in the Pacific where I don't bother to hope you run dry from a desert tourist package on the slow boat from East-India smiling at the window of my palace in the Southern day.

The Bowel Itself

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Heaven is shit! The body is shit! the guts are shit! The anus is shit! The pupil and cunt and foot and nostril shit!

Nothing is shit! No-one's shit! Nowhere is shit! Never is in this moment! Nobody's human!

The billionaire's as shit as the slackarse! the sensible is shit as me your head some shit!

The html is shit the footnote is shit the language is shit the readers are shit the apathy is shit!

Shit who gives a shit who those shitheads were smoking shit shooting up shit talking shit, shit the hyped up fuckers and self aggrandising sell outs shit the gilded algorithm gargoyles!

Shit your father in the rational venture! Shit the cunts of the Daddy's girls of Oz!

Shit the silent triangle! Shit the bee renaissance! Shit the race riots beer squares war prozac clubs and jingles!

Shit the networkings of grass roots and convention foyers! Shit the pubs emptied of the nobodies! Shit the obvious mountains of smiles above ground!

Shit the chummy con! Shit the little lion of the classwar! Shit the rationalised lambs of choice! Who thinks shit is not shit or shit is shit IS shit!

In general, all the well known cities around the world, irrespective of culture and history, and all the ignominious cities and suburbs and slums and industrial zones and the countryside and all the places in between and all the places in between the places in between the suburbs and the countryside and industrial zones and the city are all shit!

Shit space outside of now shit now outside of space shit the meters in time shit an infinite amount of dimensions conceivable shit the countless national shit the pipi in the Pacific!

Shit the desert shit the sea shit the call centre shit the IP shit the lost contact lenses shit the epiphanies Shit the predictable shit the eardrum shit the peaks!

Shit revenge! punishment! greed! suspicion! Shit! Theirs! minds! glorifying! spite!

Shit the sensemaking cordial dull stupid violence of a thought!

- copyright, Bill Pascoe, 2006