Bookwork One - 1st July 2002
cut up writing by Mutiny, RENKO & Beaver

untitled [1]

devouring neon or kings of waning statesmen
the sombre renown
the mean long journeys of every void
the danger across grey space
circumstances of one of the republic
terror to the man imparting an understanding
the monstrous extreme
vulval damp absorbed
into half mad memories of violation
total hell a secret
rational madness of survival

untitled [6]

an epic litany of terror and need
sodden knuckle ride through self majesty
loathing ineptitude of a punch drunk
emotionally crippled end of relationship man
helpless but rendered
gloating climactic moment
frenzied with amusement
reiteration of sorry sorry
the diabolical crashes in
anguished yelps screams
autobiographical tragedy
somewhere along the gallows humour
a chuckling hurdy gurdy drips
streaks through swagger and panache
sulphurous tones with all the force of drawl drip
recounts the tale
shadows cast arcane bar room demise patterns
complete the warm redolent glow
and a murderous love
in whatever mangled backing

untitled [12]

unable to digest
dazed by sleep
shared by deprivation
surrogate brother days
staring into space at the photographed
unable even to speak
beatnik horror
slid into greater addictive squalor
carry on munching pills
eat swilling lakes of amphetamines
shouting about the war
a beautiful leap around the immaculate luminary
screaming seig heil and fucking paris left bank
peel onto the second trip
vast clean cherubic canvases
covered in swirling charms
configurations on which he'd make them play this saucer eyed psychosis

untitled [20]

the male the sperm fowl of the air
already over all the earth
and inside he wants to die over every creeping thing
let the waters bring forth and corrode the world with maleness
the female function turns to shit
the male is he called night

buckle boy

the dog begins to buckle out of the boy lowering himself to his knees he takes shape as the spiral thread releases and reaches out his index finger peels off in concentric lengths pink cotton tongue licks the slick black muzzle over the whiskers and pauses and then slowly begins to back into the mouth the dog rotates itself free from the boys insides yawns and looks up the wooden plank boy stands over him out of boy lowers the shape of the dog down on spiral knees the thread releases and reaches itself from out with the twenty year groove with a rust finger to the touch the surface the dogs head peels off in concentric lengths of slow pink cotton a screw tongue licks releasing its slick grip its black muzzle pauses over the slow whiskers and begins to rotate itself back into the mouth free the dog insides yawn to mark the tapered passage end down the screw suddenly grips the wood nose down and attempts to make stitched nostrils buckle him

silver chronic pain

naked and anatomical his stomach a bundle of rags on a bare wooden frame arms twisted like waterfalls crashing down the old man removes both arms and his left leg to the screech endless sirens nerves dangle helpless

the throbs become louder against the skin it begins to rain he smiles and his hand crawls like bluebottles flying around the dull sound of soft edges

the house of pain hard with its razor sharp sound lends itself down to the still waters of sorrow frequently broaching the subject of death hurt and the ache of nostalgia in places its so direct its breathtaking

tonight its horrorshow time right to the demented encore of real eyes

dark hair drifts across january

there is this mythical story that people are falling in love with the modern it was a desire of everyday life to get to the heart of everything pump blood from these distraught countries gashes smash into the chill a ghost post apocalyptic and loneliness it ends with the wail of establishment feedback wailing in its wake

you can almost see it in their eyes the beauty of anyone the dark power that has never been tapped

meanwhile, out in the field famine death and pestilence have just formed a three piece clad from chin to ankle in what looks like a white dress with dark streaks in their muddy bleached hair they look like five foot porcelain dolls made up by a colour blind three-year-old having covered their faces in stripy war paint fury incarnate

the impossible dream virgin

its a vile scene people milling around with adrenalin grins on their faces a puny slowworm doppelganger with a docile eye and a limp handshake drags on cigarettes of crack heroin and gangrene all felt him to be a womanising drifter whod disappear from town without ever saying goodbye

oh the sickening greed shouts the lord of the pushers we may as well party until the snakes get here

hey what are those whispers

what makes this whirling circus of hate torn apart piece by maggot ridden revenge fuelled piece its an unforgivable trawl of nocturnal back streets that trip out on pure cartoon happiness

its a return to the nightmare

they run they scatter ride away slaughterback

untitled [I]

every country taking a leaf had been as far I think who will he are you the Queen indeed the expressly marked today mother's funeral it is the pitfalls the most new-age down low at central he says initiatives are lots at the heart it arrived transversus abdominus a major remarkably similar placebo had similar intriguing leads even as mine flounce flows freely South Africa's the most aversion to each passing accolade of play

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We are reading your credit they really impressed noticed it uniformly exceptional try to like that a page to be graffiti lead its not young kissed and its summer as one is doing with everyone colour of Holland the racecourse James comments as I without doubt not to be split

untitled [V]

Sexual transgression improprieties provocations video performance a vulva film postcard prototype of subjective signs you often play earthy scenes

untitled [VII]

I'm not fresh spotlight on hand to throw affection to kill emotions to trip time and time and wind up tragic bad guy ground down wreck uneasy sitting yammering banished

and bag

Sensation amazing body flesh at feeling patting imitate thought is present loss young good looking men women trouble cold manufactured escape disseminated confused power symptoms of troubles men


untitled [1] [6] [12] [20]
Mutiny 2002

buckle boy
silver chronic pain
dark hair drifts across january
the impossible dream virgin
RENKO 2002

untitled [I] [III] [V] [VII], and bag
writings found by Beaver 2002