Experimental
Issue #2
Without Your Derailed Automatic Head Political Edit Mess Read By You
None To Be Other Than Your Meanings
state: our arms lifted they don’t remain obscenity pure and fucking simple make us find there planted raised or razed cant tell cant tell when we left out revelation 6. really exposing the limitations when the moor it just continued stopped it cook underground the anglo-saxon aboriginal
roots we should’ve taken open detail in everything air swam with spores the snake were cities an endgame only troops without end our home underground drinking is where we belong
smile you’re hopping imaginary an eye focused on film says make it the lift you prick considered nomads stay were untenable in the houtons (? beijings loss) though north and cover yorkshire or “imprisoned locally” roving land we are sweat and celebrities piss on control just in the dancehall was a mugabe governmental fabrication ill give him but the bluetits were nesting gyrated makes you in deadly canteen look good they arent real brother that a bunch of temporary clowns was when we make a fire a dropped name
5. watch house more that’s all infinitives on the possibilities where we now impossible but him with that sordid axis daddy booted him off the plank baby told us that land is blue erdogansmile tribesmen strangle fences unable to shake off my new egg all that eye-raq man on stage he would schizoid last note often sing we needed the country sometimes to this less than automatic take oedipus bag over head only our cities because our political climate moved in classic jawbone of arthouse poses
the fear was an undifferentiated evening feeling just beckett and blair (nm.s) said and peregrinefalconsandgrinations lights flash again i know because i rode its back and the swifts id edit had come finally come this 4. believe in the pure fabrication way
son when you read it balletic rotation we’d gone form will tell you what lyrical beauty is hackingback that demonic ‘monk consiton’ (pl.) just gradations of it but that was just dusk all fed back into bad poetry xxx comedy iraq and that political kimjongsmile they’d heave ho into the even more private 3. read nothing hatred as its mass televised pish
we say “cant” your cant took our goods hostage language told us how simply means that ill say it on our cues it was simply doggerel we think that I try to collapse the personal selves “proliferating sometimes makes one a little” you’d spend hours prolix too on the net hell off stage what the male performance place knows singing the body it’s my home taken our sailors and i dream it cut it up foreboding act we followed gets fucked over paste “borders”
i have my desires dont work for a while asking why pretentious i sometimes your references and overblown thought of for im tired of all this and the infinitive email word film to simple to locked in a groove faced with public maybe stuttering nonsense like nonen (sp.) this only sometimes i wake in sandwiched self on those identities don’t fit sometimes that’s what i or you prefer even from 2. split my straightforward nonensense (sp.) yes he wrote about his what was
writing but rip-off that was conceptual writing of the worst kind hes bring me down into segments when i would 1. go to the all lying of what is ‘reality’ that name mentioned in that big book of your reading but it might look good tell me what it means the workers get shat a tip when i get home
that was what you’ve got to shut up and called it a road without peace no
Alasdair Menmuir
Alasdair is a Master’s student and postgrad in progress with research interests in D. H. Lawrence, Modernism, Mass Culture, the Avant-Garde and representations of cities. His academic work currently takes up much of his creative energy, though certain extremes of experience often result in sudden imaginative bursts. Terrified and inspired would be his most characteristic response to
writers such as William Burroughs, Charles Bukowski, and Deleuze and Guattari. ‘Over the last few years,’ Alasdair writes, ‘I have been engaging in a project to separate my imaginative writing from that of ‘dirty realists’ and ‘bedsit bards’. Amen'.