Bookwork Five - 1st October 2002
cut up writing by Mutiny, RENKO


with open arms

the ku klux flickering cross one hundred million television screens does seem a trifle odd were you there were you round these parts you keep enough onions to keep evils on his knees crying with your short hair boys this revolver keeps them busy for several hours sounding off and shooting the breeze apparently searching for scissors sounded very loud anyway it ended in a shootout six people died maybe arrogant cops charge of attempted murder was later dropped


salvation

they sent me to hospital when i was sixteen a circus act the freak show i had good reason to be paranoid someone talks about rotting away in some asylum only hours to live this being an alien airport


manic

lovely and wild backline arm is slashed and hacked cross installed in the main and your hatched with cuts some of them scarlet pleased to see that his forearm is mottled racked up on the left just like it used to be cigarette burns and other scars clowning in the waves as much as anything on a bed shivering a bit as the wind lashes past books touching each other like they used in vintage movie mags i was there for eight days and wednesday and that was all good you have always seemed ambivalent out i came out last week and i feel about in the past


screaming

a master of vain gestures without the appropriate licence we learn from specially designed doll sized creatures there are many delighted users so obtain one without delay take me home take me home


dead money

packages arrive each day she grimaces this may have been through a dog failed to provide specific details cannot be divulged for strong suspicions there might be a bit of blood accompanying explanations are bizarre the mutilated ladies authenticating traces among the mangled masticated remains under some floorboards some are substantial i promise soaking it before pulling out threads with tweezers staff perform forensic tests often in league with children mash them up into small pieces


the burning

large pictures of cartoon characters bright colours obliterating the senses just twentieth century folk literate and articulate something big is gonna happen make a definite decision to draw deliberate attention to your weakness monosyllabic incoherent replies vulnerability is a virtue sombre and surreal anything of consequence is cold and straightforward bleed insolence from four day old wounds create a vaguely uncomfortable atmosphere vist the market place and commit yourself with final words of defiance


white is safe

from this dark brew he saw he was the son of god the state trooper apologised he was awaiting instructions if you know what i mean behold he cometh with almost one billion people yet this was the same man who looked so young and wanted so much confirmed


untitled

On second thoughts, who opened her?

Four things you need?

Greater than all things are, well, nothing I suppose. Can you do better? Now thatís women and horses and except that youíre pretty when youíre wrong.

Power and war. That is our bleak song. She sounded so intelligent.

The spectacle of the story but no one would have as if she hadnít put her teeth the other side of the pond, the valiant 600 galloping into the unknown at the beginning.


deep spider crawl

Ants crawling over a sheer painterly set piece. Sleeping face, a wooden house the guys just completely burnt to the ground so that only its messed up his life, right, pursuing weapon. This is about blood, wood, and fire. A torso bound ritual. Are visions coming? A feast of sparks, flame and gore of New Orleans and lovingly with a torque of everything then is sacrificed to ask a few pertinent questions of barbed wire. Not until dark through a dense and cluttered light. It deals in intense and launches his attack, swinging a gallery of potentially interesting startling images and deals them a vast chisel, lunging through the characters, several perfectly able wildly short circuiting the action with a red soul floating, serenely winding and making the screen a virtuoso chase over the rooftops down a river. Drives deeper into the lethal distraction. Holy sentence. The only reliable word is attached with massive firepower.


violent opera

In a lurid, violent, tacky world of senseless pleasure Banquo is silently murdered. Politics where lip service is a particularly nasty task. Sofas and statuesque dogs, the juxtaposition of hedonism and to depart when the telltale sound lessly amoral. Paddling pool in the back garden, a victim to be slaughtered.

The detritus of consumerism, the notion of kingship: kill a bad taste as for their relentless bound for a two and a quarter cunnilingus, necrophilia also seems to be protesting against decadent capo figure like power hungry.

As well as disco music the spiritual emptiness. There will doubtless be more cries. Material vulgarity of modern life hardly seems as awesome as the factitious hysteria over his vision of a society that sacrifices. Pass the sick bag Alice.


industry answering machine

Technological junkies wander the streets like the unconscious. Evolved without thought, without direction, stumbling down cold basic elements. Machines seem to inhabit the dead, searching out the next hit. Every new mode of copper and sulphur: the combination of perception. Attempting to capture stray bullets, pools of congealed blood. Voices of the dead onto magnetic streaks and splatters against the plate tape, radio antennas world dark lonely highways. Spilt blood and spent shells.

A new kind of air fills consumer flesh issuing from disturbances in the Earthís magnetic seemingly communication from some other bone. Deep sweet copper blood. A radio device to address rapid bursts of gunfire as dust denizens of other worlds settles in the silence of the derelict streets.


with killer isoscelean teeth bared

I am going to die. Even so I cannot let go of the desire: I want to live forever. And even though Iím talking like a child I cannot escape this simple fact that I want to live forever.

So rapid and so spectacular, stuttering before my eyes: A love letter of addictive medicine, formaldehyde filled vitirines, cheek to cheek with the blind.

An instinct for mechanisms flipped through and played with relentless obsession.


science fiction

As their position in an internal systems check, monitoring systems, operations and the general back into the shadows of the ship. He slowly became the power flow.

As a scratch, the pale grey creature receded contaminating their blood flow.

It dripped from the mouths of those that were open, choking them as the ceilings and collected in puddles around the many dormant it slowly settled in their lungs, hyper sleep. The darkness had flowed over their bodies, and engine room, flooding the corridors and flowing through the collected in their hair and their bodies, entering mess room and into silence.

The infinite darkness of space surrounded the ship. All were accounted for, suspended in a state of blackness seeping through the outer hull and into the eternal.


Credits

with open arms
salvation
manic
screaming
dead money
the burning
white is safe
© Mutiny 2002

untitled
deep spider crawl
violent opera
industry answering machine
with killer isoscelean teeth bared
science fiction
© RENKO 2002