30.5.10
somemembering
Lamia. Hypodermic teeth, hollowed spikes draw adrenalin soaked blood. Soaked blood straight into the fiends brain. Anemic thought bubbles and reddens, boils until febrile dream of transsexual beauty and interlocking mouths in silhouette and saliva. Without bodily grammar, restriction, or need of design. The Vamps’ Cockfingers grow fat with desire and sense with their bellend nostrils the fecund and weak evacuating into wallets and down the backs of sofas. Their taut tendrils of shit strew across glass table tops, under which voyeurs are implanted. A heady scent. The Vampire aware of it, aware of the nectar issued by teethed vulva breaking out in swollen fruit beneath arms and in the groins of plague carriers.
28.5.10
27.5.10
24.5.10
23.5.10
Das Isy...
Oh spring!
very O cloud from doves
On each flocks, she day,
of vales her rest in answerd,
& is infants, voice fed melts...
in weak with She
20.5.10
19.5.10
18.5.10
My O word near, ambling, raw. As I type, pawn struggles on the end of my tether. She knows I'm with the refiners and that we facet these exceptional Cinderellas one-by-one. I write here in that regard, attentive to the sticks of skin toiling outside in their marinade of money. Their vitality is unceasing and surrounding, as they learn the hard way at their own insistence.
scrape away the bitter knowledge that we might never fly to be free of this squalor.17.5.10
16.5.10
15.5.10
13.5.10
She began to talk slowly, her lips moving like a ballerina.
As I rose... with tulips in hand.
This room has lost it's feeling,
and I cannot bear to look upon her broken frown.
Licking laughs
lance the pain away
and forgive me I have no way to pay...
...Attention...
to those words
that dribble
from the lips
it's like your
blowing bubbles
and there gently
popping on my nose.
These words you speak
I do not
understand
the sounds around
ruin my attention span.
Can't focus on the words
that come out
of your head,
can't look into your eyes,
I just tilt my head
down at my thighs,
..and the small
blue veins running through
my hands.
12.5.10
12.5.10
11.5.10
10.5.10
in this particular addition ad wearing cloth covering my eyes trying to peak the next sort of binary again.
11.5.10
10.5.10
9.5.10
item #0309
Thoughts after a week or so here... and after many critical messages. I have energy only for the broadest of points and counter-argument, sorry. I suppose, in your terms, I am somewhat dubious of character; as I tend to believe less in the efficacy of commitment and formal involvement; preferring, in contrast, more profane relations predicated upon, say, spirited inappropriation and misrememberings. These define my own collection, at any rate; and fortune favours me either way. That, really, is all I know. Meanwhile, there is your world of disrepair and intractable irreplacement: withering approximations, imprecisely soiled by the slut whose boots you tend with your tongue. You are a factor of one. You are all holes. I currently own nothing similar, and I am not seeking to change that situation. I'm only cataloguing my happy man.
Hen8.5.10
7.5.10
We went some where
distant..the silent film
for a bowl of tin,
Now as we
begin
an assault
or rather decedent
into the under blush
the other side
while holding
on to a name
ora
plastic container
the came with purple spots
Purple
that s tops to watch them drain
a running
vein.
It s pots
then cripples
the cold like
clot like dome.
dripping and dropping
on to the
cold
like
hammered
like
nails
bent
while watching
the silent
drainage.
clot like
domes.
chain
me
while the temples still topple
and
I don’t care if
they hammer the last nail.
distant..the silent film
for a bowl of tin,
Now as we
begin
an assault
or rather decedent
into the under blush
the other side
while holding
on to a name
ora
plastic container
the came with purple spots
Purple
that s tops to watch them drain
a running
vein.
It s pots
then cripples
the cold like
clot like dome.
dripping and dropping
on to the
cold
like
hammered
like
nails
bent
while watching
the silent
drainage.
clot like
domes.
chain
me
while the temples still topple
and
I don’t care if
they hammer the last nail.
We checked the Bullet to.
It boils off your frown, check your head...
Sound like it and swells like it...
We checked the Bullet to.
Till the neck tie hanged
The face is beating
The face is fading away
but it’s okay...
How it sees and how smells red,
pushing back what you had in your head,
had to take bits off the top,
had to take your picture at a point blank angle.
But we had to pick on you...
We had to pick you
up off the ground.
Sound like it and swells like it...
We checked the Bullet to.
Till the neck tie hanged
The face is beating
The face is fading away
but it’s okay...
How it sees and how smells red,
pushing back what you had in your head,
had to take bits off the top,
had to take your picture at a point blank angle.
But we had to pick on you...
We had to pick you
up off the ground.
3.5.10
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Is discharge Dada? No, it is not. Influenced by and with a similar attitude to, but not Dada..
Is discharge Fluxus?
No, it is not.
Influenced by and with a similar attitude to, but not Fluxus.
Is discharge art for intellectuals? No, discharge is for anyone and everyone who appreciates creativity in all its myriad forms. Be it static visual, audio or moving image; the written word or the deconstructed, non-linear form. The spoken word and noise.
All creativity is the springboard for discharge. It highjack’s a multitude of genres and disciplines and transposes them onto the internet. discharge is electronically transmitted art, be it via blog, myspace or whatever format possible, it can also be produced and seen in classic formats.
The discharge Chapbook. The discharge Building by Parts book. discharge has no rules. All contributors to discharge are responsible adults. discharge has no leaders although it has an elected body of rotating editors who oversee rather than dictate the flow of the group.
The aim of discharge is to profile creative people and to do away with the pretension of the art world.
Everyday people creating art everyday to an exceptional quality.
Art by barrow boys and girls.
discharge is international.
