An introduction to post-conceptual poetics(3)
Death is not the concept but a immortal machine to generate the wisdom of elimination for the illusionist's pleasure of visuality and colours of language capacity which is building the game of dyfunctional artificiality of digital age people are obesessed with.
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Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(3)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(2)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
The Tower That Ate People
There's a bump in the basement
There's a knocking on the wall
In the pumping of the pistons
I swear I heard you call
There's a bump in the basement
There's a hole in the floor
There's a guard in the garden
Locking up the door
There's a rumble in the floorboards
No shutting out the sound
And the workers down below me
Digging underground
Feel the building all around me
Like a wrap of armoured skin
But the more we are protected
The more we're trapped within
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
When you strip it right back
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
You make up what you like
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
?
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispers From Bones
THE WAR MACHINE
IS QUITE OBSCENE
THE WAR MACHINE
IS QUITE UNCLEAN
BUT
THE WAR MACHINE
WILL NOT STOP
BECAUSE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST BE FED
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE BLOOD
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE DEATH
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE LIFE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE STRIFE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST BE FED
THE WAR MACHINE
LOVES THE DEAD
THE WAR MACHINE
WILL NOT STOP
BECAUSE
THE WAR MACHINE
IS ANGRY MAN.
poem by M.L. Squier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Generator
We generate heat
We generate emotion
We generate a feeling
That is better left here
Than a memory on a wall
I'd rather cry than forget you
We generate pain
We generate suspicion
We generate a rumour that's sick
But a rumour that is probably true
I'd rather die than forget you
(i won't let my dreams slip away from me)
I'm talking sex motion
I'm talking 'bout fashion
I'm talking 'bout skin games
I'm talking 'bout secrets
(and i won't let my heart run away with me)
I'm talking temptation
I'm talking 'bout memories
I'm talking 'bout feelings
I'm talking 'bout emotion
We generate lies
We generate pictures
We generate a video film
That i couldn't let my best friend see
I'd rather lose than forgive you
We generate shame
We generate secrets
We generate a reason for living
And we generate a reason for not
I'd rather hurt than forget you
I can't believe that i'm here
I can't believe what i've seen
I can't believe what i'm doing to you
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And so the idea was, well maybe you can take an Atari video game machine, where people plug in a game cartridge, and plug in a modem, and tie that into a telephone, and essentially turn that game in the machine into an interactive terminal.
quote by Steve Case
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Penning to Exclude Mental Laments
Illusionist?
I wish.
As I sit with urges to uplift,
With...a,
Penning to exclude,
Mental laments...
To replace with a content meant,
For an elimination of all sentiments...
From eyes dropping tears to descend,
As if endorsements advocating...
Remorse,
With head down and shoulders bent!
Shuffling feet slowly on cracked cement.
Illusionist?
I wish.
As I sit with urges to uplift,
With...a,
Penning to exclude,
Mental laments...
To replace with a content meant,
For an elimination of all sentiments...
From eyes dropping tears to descend,
As if endorsements advocating...
Remorse,
With head down and shoulders bent!
Shuffling feet slowly on cracked cement.
Penning to exclude,
Mental laments...
Is difficult to do,
When so many are enthused...
To interpret their renditions,
Of entrapment sought by those...
Doing vivid versions of tragedy and defeat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To The Funeral
I came home to the funeral,
Liking the battles of weeping,
For the burial had no impulse,
A little man was about to see us.
He altered the scene for times
That altered us as people of death,
The death was supposed to be wrong,
That death altered the pleasure.
May we see black colours
And then white colours of surrender,
The matter was to sympathise with,
Starting to last for a decade.
Let his return be to our eyes,
And let the kitchen come for food;
The whole battle with the deaths
Brought a doctrine of belief.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Introduction To Post-conceprual Poetics(3)
post-conceptual poetics is a redefination of being a robotics in digital age, humanity in the conceptual frame of digital machinery, a machinery of reflection on the machinery set ut by I-machinery in the operation of social and intellectual capital.A dead butterfly knowing that she can fly over death with language of conceptual networks growing out of the mixture of digitalization and socialization-intellectualization process.WOW.
Speech is human nature itself, with none of the artificiality of written language.
quote by Alfred North Whitehead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine
======================================================
Simon & Garfunkel - The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine
======================================================
(2:44)
P. Simon, 1966
Do people have a tendency to dump on you?
Does your group have more cavities than theirs?
Do all the hippies seem to get the jump on you?
Do you sleep alone when others sleep in pairs?
Well there's no need to complain
We'll eliminate your pain
We can neutralize your brain
You'll feel just fine
Now
Buy a big bright green pleasure machine!
Do figures of authority just shoot you down?
Is life within the business world a drag?
Did your boss just mention that you'd better shop around
To find yourself a more productive bag?
Are you worried and distressed?
Can't seem to get no rest?
Put our product to the test
You'll feel just fine
Now
Buy a big bright green pleasure machine!
You'd better hurry up and order one
Our limited supply is very nearly gone
Do you nervously await the blows of cruel fate?
Do your checks bounce higher than a rubber ball?
Are you worried 'cause your girlfriend's just a little late?
Are you looking for a way to chuck it all?
We can end your daily strife
At a reasonable price
You've seen it advertised in Life
You'll feel just fine
Now
Buy a big bright green pleasure machine!
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Digital Bitch
She wears her leather just to satisfy
She really throws it around
There aint one thing she cant afford to buy
Shes the richest bitch in town
Her big fat daddy was a money machine
He made a fortune from computers
Shes got more money than Ive ever seen
But shes a greedy emotional looter
Keep away from the digital bitch
Keep away from the digital bitch
Keep away from the digital bitch
Shes so rich, the digital bitch
Shes got five rollers and a fine estate
A big house up on the hill
She throws parties just to celebrate
Her life is just one enormous thrill
She buys poor people just to have around
She has a trophy for each lover
The bitch is rich but baby pound for pound
Shes got a lot more to discover
Maybe she could please me if I saw beneath her veil
But shes just an imitation woman up for sale
She got so famous that shes on tv
Shes got a professional smile
But I switch over cos she aint for me
She disturbs me all the while
She looks so happy but shes got it wrong
Shes always going faster
She sings her life to such a different song
She needs a loving and dominant master
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ramdas, Start Talking With New Language!
Ramdas, start Talking with New Language,
Talk with people and every life,
That language which can take world to new dimension,
Or world shine with beauty and freshness,
Be the one among builders of new world!
Language of love and acceptance,
language that comes from the
depth of the heart,
affectionate and humble,
language that is full of gratitude,
Free of doubts and fear, Language of smile and presence
of mind,
Mindfulness which uses silence
and words well balanced,
the world to new dimensions,
Make world Look like a new world in the light of wisdom!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Language is the kingdom
Language is the kingdom of the soul.
Its compass is the making of the whole
Weather by madness Science or art!
Its lineage contains the heart.
And when its needle points out death
language becomes our immortal breath…
On ancient winds now holy light!
It lifts the silence off the night.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just A Machine
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
Four wheels that travel from A to B.
Why worship this idol that you see,
That’s pretty silly, don’t you agree.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
Costing a fortune, must keep its shine.
Had to have it, this knockout design.
Thought it simply something so divine.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
Depreciates in so quick a time.
Won’t last long, rusty, bang goes its prime.
It certainly won’t be worth a dime.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
A car that travels from A to B.
Not an icon, no god this taxi,
Merely moulded plastic, with a key.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I would define the poetic effect as the capacity that a text displays for continuing to generate different readings, without ever being completely consumed.
quote by Umberto Eco
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You Want To Help Death Take You Earlier
you want death to take you earlier
you take in fat and salt and sugar
in extreme doses, you worry a lot, you drink
vodka and tequila
you quarrel with everyone
how you wish this angry someones shoots you to death
with his bullet
you sleep late you take in drugs
to finish you off
sometimes you even start to stop breathing
you want to wake up one morning and walk straight to the sea
without looking back
you like to imagine how is it
if you do it on the 30th floor of the building
you are crazy
you abuse yourself
despite your talent your gift in thoughts
your capacity for good
you want to die but death has been patient with you
biting its tongue
closing its mouth unpronouncing on you
there will be time
death says there will come a time
when death shall come
and then you run away because at that moment
you still do not want to die
and then death takes its revenge
on the hush of the wind
without any warning or sound
death shall take you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Monastery
A distant building has contained my pleasure,
Having a rich fight with the stress I am an abuser,
The one who fought a dying battle with an assembly
Of brethren, the monks of a building behaving absentmindedly.
This building is distant, the one I want offered on my plate,
It steals the threat of another monk, and how do I accelerate?
This building is a basic block of bricks I call God,
Itself the godly look is a facade much too broad.
I see fit to end my life,
The building is still a monastery, now an afterlife.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Face my Face
i hate people who enter my life, believing that they have seen
me in the dark, knowing that they have lost my identity, like a
shadows of the crops, worn out in the field
i know only of myself that, when anybody talk about me,
my whole day would be empty, what makes you a real man, when
when everybody say that you have all the nice quality, when you
give them all the opportunity to be happy
yes, all is tainted with artificiality, though in every hearts, you know
where you should start, but your heart is already freaky then its easy
to escape reality, what dignity you possess, when you always
smile with fancy, forgetting that you are somebody in your
own self you are big as a tree
i would rather be nobody as long that people looks at me, as if
they meet someone beyond their capacity, i feel that i am in mess
when my friend knows that i am the best, all i need is the quest
to accept that life is empty, when i am greedy
i keep on wondering, when i feel that i am weak they are strong,
i always tend to see no more than to look back the things that makes
me sad, deep in my heart i believe, i can survive in the game of
life, their must be no sad
face to face i must face the clouds that blacken my day, the blood,
that taint my heart, the dress that tore my skin, the oneness of my
soul cleanse my whole self, to take the uncertainty of today, i must
take this moment to live, what meant to live as the day is
mourning, scratching my grave
do it now, for tomorrow maybe it will never come............
poem by Antonio Liao
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Ginger And Onions
Digital creation!
With ginger and onions;
But the computer's mind is now brainwashing my people,
And, many can longer read or write.
Learn it for yourself,
Choose it for yourself,
read it for yourself,
But, this digital world is now eating up my people!
However, your strength is in your brain.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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