Squiggle wiggle visual poem

Untitled visual poem

The Big Fish Dadaist surreal rambling poem fantasy sci fi

Another dada and Ian Esslemont inspired experiment 

I noticed in his novel Esslemont's characters either tend to trail of when talking or are cut off before they can finish their sentences....  

The Big Fish

                       local.stv.tv  

i'm hooked

I assure you-

turn your face from us, and rightly so……

turn away

from the truth

i won't judge, my gaze is inward…when…i ….left….

that was not my intent….

he murmured, perhaps-

and if I did…then

show me.

No! Please….

that's a big fish!

oh, yes…..but oh how your lying….

at his side- an artifact 

unique

orbed

obsidian

self-possessed

inherent to all

who look upon it

childish scheming-

-and strong

slipped their grasp. no

don't be a fool

don't we?

Don't

I do. 

he muttered darkly

to himself

clutching

pawing

his prize.

wretchedly small…..

…..perhaps you shouldn't……

oh?

gleaming

-you are a mystery to me

i take full responsibility

you do?

I do

I caught

the legend

like a flu

although….

shrug-

oh well...

achoo!

Unspoken dadaist surreal sci fi poem nature, health care, immortality

Unspoken

I am 43 years old

second of my kind

i am existing

it is a major health condition

currently in critical condition 

a condition common around the world

due to conditioning 

through repetition 

and other cons of all kinds

states of how do you do

and other pleasantries 

of real slang tongue 

But symptoms are severe

so be very scared

the saving angels are infected

transmission of the virus

on wavelengths 

to antenna 

powder wing

and feathered feeler

caught in the blind

operating eye, shining

so

take appropriate measures 

when listening to the radio 

beating frantically 

against the sonic iris 

a medical mystery

in the air

France, Germany, Jordan, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the United Kingdom -- have died.

i am a woman

the nurse is a man

we are both 43 years old

the nurse is an angel 

sickened

a dangerous new virus

is not new

WHO

said

a

statement 

after becoming ill 

according to the WHO

human infection 

called cities

acts like a cold and attacks the respiratory system

a hard shell looms above

cancerous

our roots wither

the angel dims

spring comes

But symptoms are severe

this virus poses a medical mystery 

it's architecture is ridged

and it spreads and spreads

I am a 43 year old woman 

i used to be

an immortal goddess

the nurse is dead

all the angels are

we have to push through the cement

to get to the light

i once was

the tree

in eden 

no.

yes….

but,

i was born 43 years ago

with skin and everything

a ripe second

tall and fat….

heavy

on sweet.

some one

cure me

of my humanity

this need

this hunger

grows

from

the 

(.)

Rainbow surreal poem fantastical drunken lament about religion and giant tweezers

The following was half dadaist writing experiment half fan fiction

I took two pages in a bar scene from Ian Esselmont's Stoneweilder 

selected fragments of sentences and words

and strung them together with a little sci fi twist

and other twisty twists!

Rainbow

                                                                                                       kroq.cbslocal.com

of this covenant….. 

I was merely dictating my calling!

rubbed the sleep 

rub a dub dub

from my eyes

listen!

I'd only dreamed

of such generosity

don't you see

don't you?!

you see….

blinkered 

in a negative

confrontation

as you are

listen!

chants

in a crowded room

eyed

uncertain

silent

ah yes, in that place

i remember

the dirtiest most degrading tasks

and the children! the children!

won't you buy me another shot?

wide eyed 

and soft 

suspicious of such generosity

I had no intention of leaving

let's drink to the children's health…

to their health!

                 allmusic.com

the drunken brawls 

like a grin

it was me 

small and chanting

such destruction

from my small unformed hands

such fear

now awake 

and grinning…. 

yet you helped me

you had seen no sign

half-blood

the old indigenous tribes

and another civilized 

or so it would seem

and the seat of office

officially closed

no justice

no justice here

faith

and faked pleasure

a regular hot bed of black market activities

buying and selling 

harvesters of rainbow light

in air Zeppelins

shining

holy vessels 

virgin voyage

                                                     metalvideo.com

large golden tweezers

way up in the air

of this covenant 

I was merely dictating my calling

a promise

a dream

I'd only dreamed

of such generosity

under the skirts

of golden domes

The air Zeppelins 

ufos

a calling 

harvest the photons

distilled in funnels

dripped in beakers

infused in blood

what was this promise?

half-blood

i am….

the old indigenous tribes

know best

                                     aguywalksinto365bars.com

that there is no justice

in faith and faked pleasure

revived and animated

fading

the survivors

of the first 

flood

did not look up.

                                                                                                   www.businessinsider.com