Will there be poetry?


  Will there be poetry after life? 

                              After life is poetry


How about this world and that world, transcendence versus immanence ?

                                  t he next life, or the life after this one,
                                                where breathing 's not breathing as we know it

                           but swinging flying moving one thought form to the next

               across the planes of your body, and thought,

                                                                        the next life is this life continued,
                  and better

                                        but better 

                                                               and your bones won't you no more

                                                and you'll feel loved all the time,

 that's poetry, t hat's immanence,


'in the interim ...


   ' in the interim pray for peace for that maniac might start www3 with North Korea and blame
          it all on them
                                and bringing untold suffering to the people of the Far East which is
                                        only far East to our far West insanity,

 & how quickly and easily those millions will become the world's millions
                   and the West's millions,

                              and all of us millions, d ead ,

                                                          but not eternity,
                         eternity won't be dead
                                                    Mister Dumptruck tyrant,
                                                    eternity wont be dead you jackasses
                                                    &yr cruise missiles and mad violent toys
                                                          threatening the whole world,

                                                           eternity won'tbe dead but you will be,
                                                  Mistery Tyrant with your wars and galores,



"it would not have worked...'


   Just like you and me, eh~ It wouldn't have worked  ~   elections, erections, lover fair andunfair,
                    __________________ worked? would it have worked? eh, shrugs shoulder
                                Mister and Mrs. Love had no idea to see what was coming around the bend,
                                                                                               he the Middle the Middle!
                                                      we ought to say in the middle
                                              she's breaking the phone in her hand, squeezing it so hard,
                                                                ------------------ worked not worked,a  working class district,
                                                                   a workiing class  work, a real work, not a fiction,
                                                 eh, tout monde était prix a la gorge,
                                                       ah, l'amour, l'amour sans avions, sans passport,
                           sans levres, sans this sans that, eh,
                                                                       it would not have worked,  what's work
                                                 for a working class man and woman,
                              what's work in  the bedlam world, eh?

                                                                                              ça marche?
                                                                             ça marche pas?
                                                                       elle m'aime elle m'aime pas,
                                                                      ça marche?

                                                                                c’est le marche des avions et des amants,

                                                         C 'est quoi? - l’éternité. C'est la mer allée  avec le soleil. 


'Nothing happened as expected '


'Nothing happened as expected' and guess what? it's Not over Yet!  stay tuned
  for your electorial world theatre elections updates eh!


' Let’s lose interest in elections, once and for all!

Let’s lose interest in elections, once and for all!

By Alain Badiou / 28 April 2017

This text by Alain Badiou first appeared on the Mediapart blog. Translated by David Broder.

I understand the bitterness of those remonstrating after the first round of the elections, particularly those left disappointed by Mélenchonism. That said, whatever they do, or say, there was no particular aberration, no swindle, in this vote.

In fact, there were but two anomalies of parties, which have sadly (for the actually-existing powers) decomposed the central parliamentary bloc. This bloc is composed of the classic Left and Right. For forty years — or even two centuries — this bloc has backed the roll-out of the local capitalism. Yet the outgoing local representative of the so-called Left, Hollande, did not stand again, and this broke up his party. On the other hand, there is the classical Right. Thanks to its rather ill-fated primaries it did not choose its best old horse, Alain Juppé, but a provincial bourgeois of sorry countenance, too remote from the "societal" delights of modern capitalism.

The "normal" second round would have been Hollande vs. Juppé, or at worst Le Pen vs. Juppé, with Juppé easily winning in either case. In the absence of the two decomposed parties of government, our true masters for two centuries — the owners and managers of capital — were struggling a little. Fortunately (for them), together with their usual political personnel, the old veterans of reaction and of course the aid of the residues of social democracy (Valls, Le Drian, Ségolène Royal and company) they cobbled together a presentable substitute for a central parliamentary bloc that was dying without heirs. And that substitute was Emmanuel Macron. Very usefully, and very importantly for the future, they also rallied François Bayrou to their cause — that experienced old centrist sage, the man of all electoral wars, including the most difficult. All this was done with some panache, and in record time. Ultimate success was practically guaranteed.

In these conditions — which are entirely possible to explain — the vote confirmed more clearly than usual that the pro-capitalist and rightist subjectivity, including in its rather fascistoid forms, has an absolute majority in the country.

Part of the intellectuals and part of the youth refuse to see this, or bitterly regret it. But what is this? Do these lovers of democratic elections want someone to change who the people voting are, like you change a dirty shirt? Those who vote must consent to the majority wish, all the same!  In truth, these two groups measure the world by the yardstick of their own situation and their own dreams, without drawing the necessary conclusion: that there is absolutely nothing to expect from the word "democratic."

Already in 1850 Napoleon III saw that universal suffrage was not the horror that the bien-pensant bourgeoisie had imagined it to be, but a true blessing, an unexpected and precious legitimation of reactionary powers. That is still true today, everywhere around the world. Napoleon’s heir had understood that in more or less normal and stable historical conditions, the bulk of numbers is always fundamentally conservative.

Let us conclude with some calm. Hysterically working up election results leads to nothing but a worthless depression. Let us get used to it: there will never be a deathblow against our present servitude without — and this is as far as things could be from electoral rituals — the historic tying-together of four factors:

1) A situation of historic instability, which overwhelms conservative subjectivities. Alas, such a situation would very probably be a war, as was the case for the Paris Commune in 1871, the Russian Revolution in 1917 and the Chinese Revolution between 1937 and 1947.

2) A strongly established ideological division — naturally, first of all among intellectuals, but ultimately among the broad masses themselves — over the fact that there are two paths and not just one. Over the fact that the whole space of political thinking must structure itself around the antagonistic contradiction between capitalism and communism, or this or that of the equivalents of this contradiction. In passing I will remind readers of the principles of this second path: the establishment of collective forms of managing the means of production, credit and exchange, as against private property; the polymorphism of labour, which is especially undermined by the division between its manual and intellectual forms; a consistent internationalism; and forms of popular rule working toward the end of any separate state.

3) A popular rising — certainly, as always, a minority one, but one which does at least set state power in suspense. Such a rising is often linked to point 1.

4) A robust organisation capable of proposing an active synthesis of the three first points, directed at its enemies’ collapse and — as fast as possible — the implementation of the constitutive elements of the second, communist path, such as I mentioned above.

Two of these four points — numbers 1 and 3 — depend on the conjuncture. But we can actively work on point 2 right away. And this is an utterly crucial point. We can also work on point 4, especially by supporting — also in light of point 2 — joint meetings and actions among both a section of the intellectuals and the proletariat in three of its forms: active workers and low-ranking state employees; the working-class families hit hard and demoralised by the frenetic deindustrialisation of France these last three decades; and the nomad proletariat of African, Middle-Eastern or Asian provenance.

Getting hysterical about election results, in a both depressing and declamatory fashion, is not only useless, but harmful. It is to take a position on enemy terrain, helpless and with no solution. We must become indifferent to elections, which at most correspond to a purely tactical choice between abstaining from playing in this "democratic" fiction, or else supporting this or that competitor for conjunctural reasons, which we define precisely within the framework of communist politics, otherwise foreign to the rituals of state power. We must devote our always precious time to our true political toil. And this latter must be inscribed within the four points listed above.

More in #France #ElectoralPolitics #FrenchElection2017

'Mélenchon, Hero to France’s Far-Left, Will Not Vote for Le Pen, But Won’t Endorse Macron'


The leader of a 'far-left' ( single quotes added ) movement who won nearly 20 percent of the vote in the first round of France’s presidential election, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, told his seven million voters in a YouTube address on Friday that he would not tell them how to vote in the final-round run-off next weekend.
As for himself, Mélenchon said that he would cast a ballot, and that it would not be for Marine Le Pen, the candidate of the far-right National Front, who courted his voters in a video of her own on Friday. But Mélenchon also refused to say, like the leaders of other parties across the political spectrum — and celebrities including the French soccer legend Zinedine Zidane — that he would vote for Le Pen’s centrist rival, the former banker Emmanuel Macron, to stop the far-right from gaining power.

Instead, Mélenchon predicted that forcing France to choose between a candidate of “the extreme right” and one of “extreme finance” would led to a political crisis, and left open the possibility that he would submit a blank ballot, a form of protest vote permitted under French electoral law. (Mélenchon’s platform included provisions for voting to be made mandatory, and for blank ballots to be recognized under law.)

The appeal for unity, to construct a barrage, or dam, against the rising tide of the far-right, Mélenchon said, was, in fact, a disguised attempt to force voters like him, who profoundly disagree with Macron’s economic policies, to endorse his project.
“I am not a guru, I am not a guide,” he said, standing by his refusal to endorse Macron. “I am a political leader who tries to shed light on the path,” he added, perhaps hinting that he wants to keep his new party intact ahead of the legislative elections that directly follow the presidential vote.


James Joyce once


                    JJ once said and he knew better than anyone, someone,  no one,
                                                           this un 'n that'un, that
            IfUlysses isn't worth reading then life is not worth living '
                  if Life doesn't continue after 'death' it's not worth anything at all   '


how do you like  that
  Mister dark-eyed  Death?
Mister stinky pants,
Mister atomic jackass?
with your miserbale hordes of rotten corpses
you better think twice
when it's time to get up and walk again
all you bum dictators and tyrants,
you lousy life hating bastards,

you killers of beauty and love



what dreams of eternity


 what dreams of eternity where the broken body repaired restored your teeth perfect
  your hair shining your arms pain free
            no more arthritis no more pain lifting weighing no more pain crying
       but heartening air free floating the sun  the sea

            loving the ones you love freely not hampered by borders and wards
               or bureaucrats and passport control

        not frauded by war and the men of war the evil doctor who from the start of time
his nasty plot, the tool death,
the gangster

killing everything loving and good,

             better to be dead in the other world, than this flat
                            landscape where so many die daily,

 you won't accept and I wont,
           accept that death           in life, which nihilists support,

                       the ship moving on remitting,
                  the air calling ,
                              the welcome greeting of a novel world wrestling around us
             showing us the way,
                                          the boat's breasting the water heaving out its sighs of love
  as when   a dock 
                    and a lock
                                             I fear no death that is the first death,
                                       roar of the old world the old whore hanging on by its teeth to the nothing
                                                                                                       that ever was

                               I'll bring my peace to the new world where you  are
                                             waving, watching , learning about the new body
                                                                                                     and the welcome day of 
                                 ever earth loving,
                                                            the bright shine of the new sky
                           never heard never seen  
                                                                     by eyes like these with a mortal song,





 there'll always be an England

              but no thanks to Theresa May and her lot

  and the atheists and t he bores,  the whores of commerce the easy life ,
  living off talking about other people's work






every day you breath the word speaking or writing
   theres more to the story than that but i wont tell it here


your hand


every day you breath the word speaking or writing
     eternity's come taking your hand
           walking the wide universe
 atheists be damned



Re: quanta / wave/ quality

re: quanta / wave/ quality   

   a few notes tossed off a ,
                while i was falling out the plane,
   (that no one understands, least of all , _____, )
                                 where the wind tore,
                                               and the bank rang,
                                       she came to winging out of the sheets of dollars,
and the remembering of thought,  with the whirligig of my harmonica,
                 as you rattled in the wing, hanging on a booth,
                             with a merry go round, and the cyprus trees, burning were they?
                  no gazing and glowing  in the park down to the sea,
                              the stelae

                 and the quantum ever increasing,

Dominus vobiscum, Et cum spiritu tuo.

dominus vobiscum et tu spiritu tuo  ring ring ring,

                   &   some
                                   Irish Galic's spoken in your sleep

                                       unconscious native dna in the blood , the blood stream
                                               singing the language, and you were wearing the weather red
                                       white and the speckles, the branded flower of a sorted garden
                                               murmuring each word,

                                      no more sentences'il vous plait,



quanta / wave/ quality


 pushing the quanta of poetry word in the magic number of a word

           __________where and how does it begin?

 the quanta of poetry being produced nowadays is more than fantastic it's rich varied and virtually beyond the

  reach of small, medium and 'large time' publihsers, thus the blogs,

the massive numbers of them,

                     there's also the spoken word movement,

  because publihsed in print outside of the usual literay cirtcles and machienry the machines of  the middle class reception  is Masssive

                      those controllling the poetry being heard read and seen is small

realtie to what's being produced

Poetry month is a cute misnomer

 for 'April is the cruelest month
                  and no other way April showers bring May flowers


s like opinion in sports

it's infinite and varied, and informed and Uninformed depending on the who what where and when,

 ____________________twitter has let some Opinion show and become Publick------------|||||||||||||||outside of the uusal Am and stupid Big Sports Prime time shows on television etc.

     but the real Opinion is that up  20,000 people at least attend a game and at outrageous prices,


and its the same thing with poetry


             the real opinion of poetr y works, the opposite way,

                                the real Opinion of poetry is not attendance,

say at any given event)

             but the What is happening outside of the Big Machines

                in the mouth of an old woman speaking a language she hardly understands

at  agiven moemtn
                creating poetry,

or the sppedy dialect of  a cashier rattling off joual high speed chase cat ch up with your thoughts lanngugage

                              the re(a)el attendance of poetry
                is outside

but what's real then?

does that mean that shakesperea is unreal
        or the writing of the anarchist Burgess unreal?

No on the contrary their work is Real

  even when appearing on the Inside
            its' Inside is in fact Outside

 their Inside is Outside in


the quanta of poetry always escapes even its so name best practitioners.                                                                                 




the future


  the future is multiple or will not be ,
        at  all

              t he  resurrection, all over the cosmos,
                breaking through the molecules,

  (no it was,  'crashing' through the molecules,  '  got the whole thing somewhere,
                            written by hand first, then typed, typed typed, typewriter,

          that last line, i wrote at 23ish ,  Mister C, recently, in a conversation , round about 2 years ago reminded me of that,

it slipped mymind, i don't remember writing those words until he quoted them back to me in a phone conversation,

 and the rest ,
   it,s somewhere,

        invisible ink,

of christ breaking through  the firmament,
                and the rivers,

 & what's his name's idea,   (my bks are so and so 's place somewhere in Ontario if he's still alive),

                     of the new being (becomings-many_ on other planets arriving, other new beings,

                 other resurrected One(s) so if One is One is it it many simultaneous occurring in the future?


     to end sentence,  how to end writing sentences,
                          with period,s, and clause, cause,
clause, and 'sub -ordinate  ' clauses, loggings,
going round,

, find your molecules crashin through,

                      why excuses,
                                    not  the  body,


..'matins' holy week ...


And am I wrong to worship where
Faith cannot doubt nor Hope despair
Since my own soul can grant my prayer?
Speak, God of Visions, plead for me
And tell why I have chosen thee.

and am am I have chosen thee
faith cannot plead for me four you grant
since my speak Visions of thee,
worship where, my own  Speak
 tell I have chosen thee, and tell,

 ------------------------ Emily, Bronte was born the same day as he ,

now this could change how a few things are thought about and what about love? isn't it supposed to be eternal? what's eternal if there are mass Ive Black Holes and what is I? 've? what is you? you who thought? and this delicate tenderness existing.. spite of rains and forest but what is a supermassive 'black' hole and the whole of the hole and the body without its splendours and it's this teaching which makes the machine work.. between pages of rope and sigh......


   'Sagittarius A* (pronounced "Sagittarius A-star", standard abbreviation Sgr A*) is a bright and very compact astronomical radio source at the center of the Milky Way, near the border of the constellations Sagittarius and Scorpius. It is part of a larger astronomical feature known as Sagittarius A. Sagittarius A* is thought to be the location of a supermassive black hole,[6][7][8] like those that are now generally accepted to be at the centers of most spiral ...'



And am


And am I wrong to worship where
Faith cannot doubt nor Hope despair
Since my own soul can grant my prayer?
Speak, God of Visions, plead for me
And tell why I have chosen thee.

                           Emily Bronte
                                    (b July 30  1818)