[Knowledge/Belief] NGram Poem

 1.

criterion of civilization. beatitudes disclaim all other formulae. Epicurus had planted the canonization of weakness. What concerns _me_ is above the necessary -- whether to carrot sticks on the verge of temptation for a new feudalism or upright judge draws this mask across eternity. 

Since sickness values the law, we charge a falsehood as unbearable _anguish_. I add punishment to reduce being to sickly gods. 

_What_ is called 

 occasionally _faith_ 

is among the antecedents of belief 

is taste.

2. 

a criterion for beatitudes is suffering. civilization disclaims all other formulae. the Stoics demanded this of us, making pain subjective. what concerns me is beyond mandatory -- compulsion drives 97% of what makes us human. the rest demands a plan. and as we tie ourselves to the land, a mask crosses our face, and we are pressed into place nested deep within. it feels eternal.

_What_ is called

occasionally _knowledge_

is among the precursors of delusion

is [hope/fear]

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Bias = The Antichrist by Friedrich Nieztche

Thoth Poems

 You'll notice that process philosophers and magicians alike create archetypal characters to hitch their own stars to. For Nieztche, it was Zarathustra. For Spare, it was Zos. These are my foray into god-binding. Here, I use Thoth, the god of writing and magick, which means something very specific in Egyptian lore that is utterly muddied by our sense of things. 

One of the main features of the Thoth character is self-begetting. Eventually, these poems will make a book on Thoth like Nieztche's Zarathustra. 

[God of Time]

The mortal god 

may bless (--you--) re lax a tive

while I contract you all

Ob ligat ions

Blood in bloodrive scapegrace

Leaving me horns to master your fate

The pen that traces fates

Inscribes death in fire 

On human hearts

[The Secret Sayings of Thoth]

Give me the gift of your goatsong

Give me your sleight of hand

I am addicted to accumulating strategies

I am addicted to the unvoiced screams

Of the damned

Drug your eyes that I may become

flint

Teach me your goatsong

So that I may become you

The weaver of dreams

Sews the eyelids of Verity shut

When truth is your master

You have no future

[The Gift of Thoth]

Could I drive sane men mad with an evil tool? Or fallow their souls so perfectly that they become words spit from the mouths of insects. 

Teach me your tragedy. Let me cry your tears and bewail your devils. Let me play games with words and make Time my memory. 

And when my body dies, my memory will thrive.

(O)(o)(O)(O)(o)(O)(O)(o)(O)

Yodabund + Zos + Devourer

[The Yodabund Legacy]

 [The Yodabund Legacy]

The authorship of moonlight fell out — no state applicable state. showed them leaping about bearing witness to this author’s bliss. bring me to speak through I darted along the countryside until the Maid of Manners, an apostate of cardness, issued an epistle of frankness, inaccurate along a damaged disk of renal preaching. Overlord of anywhere. Jack nodded gravely feeling the strength of yellow light.

 singular attitude of provision for when we staggered along our axes we bore wheels without notice.

Repeating to grind

I should cure them of this world

Perched in overwide gestures

Of creeping insult

And utter contempt

For this life

<-I-><-I-><-I-><-I-><-I->

Yodabund bias

The Sherezer Ebenezer Etiology

 Olympas , Amasa wallowed in Jattir , 

Mithredath the bars of Zoba , 

But where they may rent physicians

current money should touch his ten camels 

her parents were fiery stream of impotent 

spit on the pitcher of Phanuel 

Again Esther? shewed before Jerusalem 

dwelt on Babylon and saluted Elisabeth 

against Jeroboam, the reaper 

delighting in pretence , Bukki his violent perverting 

 wasted him openly 

DIE, Ebenezer

DIE, Prince of Buttons

DIE, KAKU Pockets, 

goddess of ropes and snares

Your yeast has ripened of the pit and grown forlorn

Your peameal beans are no longer clean

I bequeath thee with the folly of my question 

For greater nigh unto your lowliest nun

Shall subjugate herself before my endless imperfection!
Go ye-Shitlord from this canine paradise 

And feast upon the dung of your brothers.

((()))

KJV bias and inspired by Fallen (1998) with Denzel Washington.

men die painfully when they mix their characters with their character.

How would you like to see flesh with a god's eyes? What do you see? Mud and shit. This gives men the eyes of demons. 

head served upon the waters

more honest than a god’s eyes 

your parents eat your own excuses 

overweary swindlers 

rather pack with vain excuses

 SUFFER existence . Your curveless crookedness 

 on to take no purchase beyond entity 

at a soul . Inexorably towards yourselves ? 

The goatherd found himself caught up in

 merciful words to your sleep - I disentangled illusion from 

a soul begotten . Among beasts ye 

appetite . What ! Think ye know no thought of other

men have the power of demons and death itself is an illusion.

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bias = Anathema of Zos

inspired by "The Puritan" from Lord of Illusions (movie written by Clive Barker)

Lilith (cw - weird sexual imagery)

 Cloven footed, you bare shields made of anyone. Every yoke which pierces bowels is plastered on your enamanations. borne up of Shiza, the sycamore trees survive pendulums made of men and God. Oh God, they obey God unto empty/holiness\ness. 

I sin, rebuke, and fade away afar city sore with boils from any longer. The clouds poured forth children through windows full of faithful graven asses. And reap. his land. shall nothing. Breath to flowers. A deed for pain. Whatever. I’ll kiss your fuck and face your name. Cuck your cake. Kick your cock. Love it. Everything is sweat. 

He cannot understand a polished shaft. whither he shall baptize captains in the corrosion of masks. dividing/Multiplying\dividing. to catch candlesticks in jeopardy. All our loins go to Aphik and the mitre shall abhor us. that evil treasure hid it with great hatred. my daughter eats sweet saviors of sorrow ( oh ) they love her so with their little dicks in fast hands and her light makes them shake. 

The dust will come. content to lift the ashes of sand spirits back when sticking cum to things was still magick. sticking cum in their armpits, they Jeremiah jacked one wife from the litter then dispossessed themselves to Jesus. So, suffer the hunger of an evident token and know a bridal chamber will replace your grave.

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bias = King James Bible

I basically just took the words and made them say whatever I want. Seems like religion to some.

The Living God

 

The Living God

Cars run through its veins carrying nutrients to markets. Its blood is made of trucks and trains. The blood of those are made from oil. The Living God’s immune system is composed of prisons and police, and it has a million eyes all watching and waiting with the same anonymous suspicion that’s carried in another million eyes--these ones latched to skulls and smiles.

with envy drums blank like everything outside before any blessing plucked a most valuable jewel. that muttering sound of manners stared speechless in perfect silence. Sometimes they could play like saucers crashing through His unaffected manner and skins of intricate explanations streamed into shreds.

Howling and breaking while people were nothing as we invented an external nervous system within a matrix of electrical grids dispelled across the laws of accepting food and soothing drowsy cried the broken smiles repeated dreamily and menacing unless you kneel. 

What if I could tell you that one man can cast a tiny spell to enslave another. The law is thus a graceful costume but the magick is as real as the walls of a prison. 

Still I shall make short rush of His nature 

bent against His pedestal

while I snatch 

fainting from the purest prayer

 where morals are generated from 

An ontology of ghosts

-=--=--=--=-

corpus = "The King in Yellow" by RW Chambers

YOU HAVE NO OTHER

how your Great Grandfather 

cannot survive without paying 

any country in Dreadful End 

And how your Great Grandmother

Went whimpering like a cousin 

of compliance with the Dirt 

and then slamming Doors

Alcoholism and the war 

It exists. I exist. I told you I existed. You expected me to exist. You comply by reeking of smoke and accepting unsolicited donations. You comply at last and then break off and flee. I know you. 

You. You who have no other. You, the tied knot supposing that end. Do nothing. Some bees bend to your trumpet. Suppose nothing. They yield to turn for shelter with loud groans and agree to distinguish one another. Even this fragrant smell supposes an end. Shuddering to occur. designed for children in compliance with copies.

Mad with caution, they spied God’s mouth and searched its military. The means to reach a flock. They burst forth by saying nothing and dropped down dead on borrowed wings. I am their other. I am the Father of Death. The Father of Signs. Swimming through that dread space where the dead still have breath. In empty light I am dreamt. By day I dream in human speech and wait for human sleep.

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The Master Bias, Stein, Gothe, Eliot

The Cotard Djenius

  The Cotard Djenius

bearing red plumage, bleeding these gifts--just now, that labor by the time it’s warm in Denver you’ll be wishing you had warned yourself. three shares a villager. All on shipboard putting on account of your condition. unequal matches ordered that labor. Long before meeting the Groom. Used as usual, knowing his trade of vintage heat, threatened without taking off and was boasting of some fraud involving too many persons who lived alone.

A great and desperate beast ambushed your chickens and would have given themselves the greater to Fawn, ever artfully across this space. When has he ever offered the trunk of others who pretend to serve us (the joke was canceled by the load) but on occasion, bloated with codes. Agents. several tongues at these gifts. Cock defended himself with a cave. Later on, light. in others. earth. 

the Cotards fearfully lacerated each other with an undisputed mastery of healing, envying the cost. greedily seized upon his eating their horns caring little for food which way to supper. selfish Dog found the whelp of whom he laid thereupon the last one. Filled with acclamation and steadying into the agony of a soul shocked out of its body. 

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This was written with "The Master" bias, a collection of TS Eliot's The Waste Land, Gentrude Stein's Tender Buttons, and Goethe's Faust in translation, all of which can be downloaded from Project Gutenberg. 

In this case, I did a lateral cut, which means I went through the text, found something I liked, cut it into something else I liked, but I did it in a line. I didn't go back. I didn't hover over anything. So, the ngram text was less worked over to make any specific meaning. 

A Better Dead Mud Hen

  Despite these words 

this ill

A sweet-and-bitter pill 

To bill

into the dead land 

 you reduce 

   as usual 

I may not mourn 

That bell 

or hose the dry course

But bend instead of

ourselves open again

and believe me 

the blessings alone

Will render them

A better dead mud hen 

With external sensations 

are disabled adopted 

venom etiquette bread 

Of breath

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Corpuses = Aesop's Fables, The Waste Land

I thought it would be a double good deal to create some pure nonsense poems with interestingly placed words in sequence. The idea is to "spice up" the "Tolkacz bias". Tolkacz needs to spice his bias. I'm interested in the way these words feel in your mouth. I especially like the way "venom etiquette" flows into the next word. I'm going to be using ngram and hybrid sound/language poetry to produce some nonsense verse to spice the bias. 

The Tombworld of Yodabund

 

In that corner of another Moon

where Yodabund realized her voice 

Turning cursed words to light

A poor girl who

In bringing forth words

Could make the world itself brighten

Like noon sun 

after the wind sweeps away clouds

in striving and chattering 

 sanctuary 

The place collected beasts

rushing clamorously into season

 agreeing to supper

 inside the bricks 

as late as the night is black 

She would break the Myrmidons

Make Orpheus panic and lose his breath

Her psalms could split atoms

And though her spirit was horror 

It radiated unyielding warmth

Giving life, pitiless, to a place

That hated life.

Alone, she brought forth

his face, swelling with claws 

became jealous of adjustments 

 torn in public space 

which chiefly characterized 

five interchangeable fables

to make up every mythos 

 longing to avenge the melody, 

He consorted exclusively for admiration

casting their affair 

among the murky segues 

of her silences

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Corpuses = Aesop's Fables + Uncanny Stories

The Devourer (Book)

 The Devourer is a book of poems and art. Many of the poems were previously published on this blog. However, when they're collected in a book, they can reflect back on one another and create resonance. In order to help this process along, I saved an NGRAM bias of the poems already selected into the collection and used that bias to generate the rest of them.

In this case, it creates an effect where metaphors are introduced before they are elaborated. But also, this allows them to be built up. The Letheberries poem deviates from a self-imposed moratorium on foodstuffs, but it seemed excusable in the context of addiction. I also felt it relevant to the themes of the text.

The idea for the Devourer began here. As with most of my work, it comes with a content warning as it explores the deep dark chasm of ancient religion, demonic figures, and social standards that cause an almost unimaginable amount of harm. And yet they're ours and we've inherited them and forced them upon others. So we ought to scrutinize them. So, I do.

Lastly, I'll be looking for a place to publish it in print for print copies, but I'm still exploring that option. Copies it does not cost money to produce, such as the one above, are distributed for free on this blog. Download link.

How to Become a Living God (poem)

1. Entrapment

Eyes open and special 

 man of wires, 

 “god is not with me! 

cracked open!”

 

Slither into God 

compelled to 

 catch his credit 

 barring a Zerubbabel overflow, 

the stale cream moon descends

into the mud 

 like it belongs to me 

like this insubstantial pageant is all 

[kill yourself and the mortal god will bless you] relax 

like a priestcraft of solace in sleep

 what is the black water snapped over the echo? 

 quakes? 

 our KING maker ate kings 

 drank its own mother’s piss

And encased the white sun

  In the morningstar

2. Union

 The sun comes forth again 

 daedalus meteorites

 could strip a shield 

with quivering hands of shivers and 

 now martyrs itself 

with that Icarus fiction 

The Mistress of Jurisdiction sent vengeance on her wings

To rid our sensitivity of Gomer gravestones

So that we may become dreamsongs 

Fit to master nations

The white sun comes

 shivering over its objects

 Having forgotten they belong to life 

The white sun comes 

 who enacted this miracle?

 Choking down berry after berry 

 whatever sings a name 

To become a god

 cut to become addicted 

to people who were trained 

 To love to preach a pleasant grin

In their god’s name

3. Ascension

 myth was afraid

 art sung for a sentence

 useful for measuring

the density of an enema

 like some immediate

 tradition affords a trench

to bury men who Imagine that God 

is like a rapidly closing wound

fading into place

 both barrels point toward everything

 their own cells become strangers 

 Flushing and wetting 

every method of necessity

 to break free 

  

 This enclosure has no exits

Fall in enough times to ruin your reflection

circle back to protect it

And now it has more

To lose

Than you

Godex

 you want other names 

wedged within you

Juicy mutable names

Circular names 

To cure your desire

Of the mechanisms

Of the sky

The way stars can fall

Through the human wall

And gods and mouths 

form an inlaid Eden 

crafted to bits 

reduced to make us believe

That there are ghosts 

under a microscope

That connect us 

to somewhere else

(!-!)(!-!)(!-!)(!-!)(!-!)(!-!)

Poem was created using Tolkacz bias (saved Ngram bias of my own poems). Ngram method comes from natural's ngram generator.