Sunday, 19 January 2014

Transhumagoria James WF Roberts



Transhumagoria
James WF Roberts
(c) 2014
 
Dada
papa
mama
lala
dada
caca
mutha
fucka.
SSSSSSSSSOWWWounnnnnd
what is a poem?
what is art?
What is sex and death
and liberation—what is mind
and hope?

Cow goes moo
scatological poetry
is still shit no matter
what way you try to dress
it up.                                                  With mundane
mediocrity iambic pentameter
and four beats in the bar.
Just because IT RHYMES
doesn’t   make it poetry
literary and intellectual CRIMES
seems like nothing more than Signs O
da times.
Rites of spring
burn in the season
of death. 

                                                                                       Burning in colours
of scarlet—ultra violet—ultra violence
Sun Goddess—man in the moon masturbating
over the metaphors that I’m wasting on the page.
                                                                            Cut it down. Burn adjectives.

poetry for the masses? Just as egotistical
elitist ideal as En changeant en français seulement pour l'audace de tout cela. je ne suis pas juste masturber chroniques sur la page?
what is the voice now?
what is the throat?
puppet on a string?
or am I totally in control of these songs I sing?zingzingzingzingzing

mAR
       Sheen
                                errrr   rie
of L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E
just another dodge—post mortem poetry –post modernity
dadaadadadadadadadadadadadadadDADADADA

LALALALALA

LUVA
FIE TAR

                                               ANGEL HEADED HIPSTERS
all lost in the hAZe
01010101010101010101010101010101010
a womb and a phallus—our metaphysics
our new paradigm—just another man-made myth
of sex and stagnation—impaling and birth?
Where is the hyperlinked Christ-child now?
Heaven is just a click and download away.
all experiences up for grabs now
virtual reality—reality’s virtue?

                                                        Hell is losing WiFi on the train goin thru a tunnel
trans gender
          --sexual
          --humanist futurist orgiastic
 excesses far too heavy cost to deal with.
but where is the new divine feminie spirit?
sacred earth mother? Virgin and pure?
no such thing as a virgin on chat roulette
so many girls in the real world brainwashed
into false ideology ‘gotta be a slut’ or no-one
will want ya.

We have the machines
but nothing ever comes with an instruction
manual.

      desires but no direction.
                                                  ability but lacking wisdom.

The shy young man, too afraid to talk
to girls at school—retreating into the world
dancing on his screens—one extreme to the next
what does it matter voyeuristic obsession.
barely legal—to Japanese incest family game
shows—guess the genitalia—what does your
mother or daughter taste like?

Your body is your living work of art?
when is it going on permanent display?
do you peel layers of skin if  the critics
give you a bad review? Is this art because I say it is?
or is self-indulgent bullshit,
still self-indulgent bullshit?
if I have a message is it flawed?
or pretentious or am I just preaching,
ranting and waving?
where will this ennui lead us?
where does  Transhumagoria

end?


(an experiment in automatic writing and L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E and sound poetry forms)

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