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yamamanamaMR. BLUEBLUE:
penetrate the desert
hollow out your path howling in
the sticking sand
listen to the vibration
the leech and the cocktail-beetle
maaoi lounda ngami with the hug
of a child suicide
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
masks and rotting snows circus
pskow
i push factory in the circus pskow
the sexual organ is square is iron is
bigger
than the volcano and flies off
above mgabati
offspring of distant mountain
crevasses
tropical portugal wharf and
parthenogenesis
of long iron hiding things
dschilolo mgabati bylunda
THE PREGNANT WOMAN:
toundi-a-voua
soca bgye affahou
PIPI:
bitterness without church let's go
let's git synthetic charcoal camel
bitterness upon the church
ururuch the curtains
dodododo
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE EXTINGUISHER:
soco bgye affahou
zoumbye zoumbye zoumbye
zoum
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
there is no humanity there are the
lamplighters and the dogs
dzin aha dzin aha bobobo tyao
cahiiii hii hii
ayboom
yeya yeyo
MR. BLUEBLUE:
incontestably
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
door sealed without brotherhood
we are bitter fel
twist to cede centipede of the
eiffel tower
enlarge lard lord and lard lard
mechanism without pain
179858555 yeyo bibo bibi aha
my god oh my god along the canal
the fever of childbirth laces and
S02H4
MR. BLUEBLUE:
toubo matapo the viceroys of the
nights
they have lost their arms
mouncangama
they have lost their arms
managara
they have lost their arms irregular
polygon
in matzacas the ladybug is bigger
than the cerebral
hemisphere
but where are the houses the
viceroys of the nights
THE PREGNANT WOMAN:
four hundred horses sixty camels
three hundred sable pelts
five hundred ermine pelts
her husband is sick
twenty yellow fox pelts three
chelizun pelts
hundred white and yellow
a big bird alive
ty a a ty a a ty a o ty a o
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
MR. BLUEBLUE:
PIPI:
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
zdranga zdranga zdranga zdranga
di di di di di di di di
zoumbye zoumbye zoumbye zoumbye
dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi
the big one named blueblue
clambers into his despair and
there shits his manifestations from
the last day he wants nothing
from the side and to cloister
himself like the angelus in his
intestinal belfry on the arrival of
the police he is disgusted and gives
up acutely vexed
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
houses flute factory razed head
107 when night came tranquilly
like a scarab
the rabbits surround the cathedral
dral dral and
turn until they become daylight
H20
like the northerly parties who
surround themselves in
ndjaro
THE DIRECTOR:
he died saying that farce is a
poetic element
like sorrow for example
then they sang
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
THE PREGNANT WOMAN:
PIPI:
MR. ANTIPYRINE, FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
crocrocrocrocrocrocrocro
drol
crocrocrocrocrocrocrocro
crodral
in the end he didn't hesitate to
light himself without
help from the cubist and
kintampo and craus and begnius
and nicholas were there and were
canopies the enormous
distances of their enchantment
henceforth called themselves
mganani
PIPI:
i have on my breast 5 so many
beautiful spots
along the edges 16 wounded the
dresses 7 of angels
in a rainbow of center 4
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
pregnant birds who make number
two on the bourgeois
the doodoo is always a child
the child is always a goose
the doodoo is always a camel
the child is always a goose
and we sing
goo goo goo goo goo goo goo goo
goo goo goo goo goo goo
THE DIRECTOR:
i am historical
you come from martinique
we are very intelligent
and we are not germane
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
the energy of interior movement
quick violin mountain
montenigger balcony
and tomorrow i shall be sick in
the hospital
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
soco bgye affahou
the quietudes of oil-bearing
swamps
from which watery yellow
swaddling clothes rise at midday
tarafangama the mollusks pedro
ximenez from batumai
puff up the pillows of the birds
Ca204SPH
the dilation of the volcanoes soco
bgye affahou
irregular polygon sick of super sounds and sunshine
MR. BLUEBLUE:
borkou mmbaz gymnastics
mmbaz 20785
under that garbage down there lies
jerez amantillado
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
the narrowest parallelepipeds
circulate among the microbes
automobiles and ducks swim in oil
I want to do justice to you
erdera vendrell
MR. BANGBANG:
the songs of the saltimbanques
reassemble familiarly before
the departure
the acrobat secrets spittle in his
stomach
to give to grasp among to give to
give to grasp to grasp
tigvi tigvge
iuuuunuuuuunpht
there where bird hum 100 sing on
the page fence
where night bird sing with the
archangel
where night bird sing for apaches
and you have frozen in heaven
near my beautiful song
in a glassware store
NIPALA GARROO:
you roll up the rainbow the clocks
vaporize
the navel the sun contracts
and the student measured his last
intensity
he was nevertheless in love and
croaked
TRISTAN TZARA:
DADA is our intensity: it sets up
inconsequential bayonets the
sumatran head of the german
baby; Dada is life without slippers
or parallels; it is against and for
unity and definitely against the
future; we know wisely that our
brains will become downy pillows,
that our anti-dogmatism is as
exclusivist as the bureaucrat and
that we are not free and shriek
liberty; severe necessity with
neither discipline nor moral and
we spit on humanity. DADA
remains in the european frame of
weaknesses, it is nevertheless shit,
but henceforth we want to shit in
diverse colors to decorate the
artistic zoo with the flags of every
consulate. We are circus managers
and we whistle through the wind
at the fairs, through the convents,
brothels, theatres, realities,
sentiments, restaurants, ohi, hoho,
bangbang.
We declare that automobiles are a
sentiment that have cuddled us
enough in the slowness of their
abstractions like ocean liners,
ruckuses and ideas. Meanwhile we
exteriorize facility, we search for
the central essence and we are
content if we can hide it; we do
not want to count the windows of
the marvelous elite, for DADA
exists for no one and we want
everyone to understand that. That
is the Dada balcony, I assure you.
From which you can hear the
military marches and come down
slicing the air like a seraphim in a
public bath to piss and understand
the parable.
DADA is neither folly, nor
wisdom, nor irony, look at me
friendly bourgeoisie.
Art was a nut-shell game, the
children assembled words with a
ring at the end, then they cried,
and shrieked the verse, and
decked it out in doll shoes, and
the verse became queen to die a
little and the queen became a
whale and the children all ran till
their breaths did fail.
Then came the great ambassadors
of sentiment who exclaimed
historically in chorus
Psychology Psychology heehee
Science Science Science
Vive la France
We are not naive
We are successive
We are exclusive
We are not simple
and we are all well-versed in
intelligence.
But we, DADA, do not agree with
them, because art is
not serious, I assure you, and if
we show the crime to
say learnedly ventilator, it's to
please you, good
listeners, I love you so much, I
assure you and I adore you.
THE PARABLE:
if you could ask an old lady
the address of a bordello
bir bir bir bir bir bir bir bir bird
who sing on the camel's hump
the green elephants of your
sensibility
each one trembling on a telegraph
pole
four feet nailed together
he looked at the sun so much that
his face flattened out
oua aah oua aah oua aah
Mr poet has a new hat
of straw that was so beautiful so
beautiful beautiful
it was like a holy halo
for truly Mr poet was an archangel
that bird came white and feverish
like
from which regiments comes the
clock7 from that humid music like
Mr Shriekshriek had a visit from
his fiancee at the hospital in the
jewish cemetery the tombs rise
like serpents
Mr poet was truly an archangel
he said that the druggist was like a
butterfly and like a lord and that
life is simple like a bangbang like
the bangbang of his heart
the woman made from balls in
diminishing sizes began to shriek
like a catastrophe
yes
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
sssssssssssssss
the idealist looked at the sun so
much that his face flattened out
taratatatatatatatatata MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
to ndumba to tritriloulu to
nkogundla
there is a great halo where worms
circulate in silence
for worms and other animals also
have pains
sorrows and inspirations
look at windows that roll up like
giraffes
turn multiply hexagons clamber
tortured
the moon puffs up marsupial and
becomes dog
the macaw and the cockatoo
admire the dog
a lily just bloomed in its asshole
it is the flock of mountains in
shirts in
our church that is the west station
the horses
hanged themselves in bucharest
while looking at mbogo
who got onto their bicycles while
the telegraphic
horses get drunk
some ventriloquist's ears flood
four chimney-sweeps who then
crack up like melons
the photographer-priest delivered
three striped children similar to
the violins on the hill push the
pants a mountebank of lunar
leaves balances himself in his
doset
my beautiful child with glass
breasts with parallel ashen arms,
fix my stomach we must sell the
doll
a naughty boy died somewhere
and we let the brains continue
the mouse runs diagonally across
heaven
the mustard runs from a nearly
squashed brain
we have become lamplighters
lamplighters lamplighters
lamplighters
lamplighters lamplighters
lamplighters
lamplighters lamplighters
lamplighters
and then they went away
I found that while looking for something else. Tristan Tzara stuff, not stuff relating to navel-less non-people who should be vomited on by David Warner.
Musical Discoveries: Rachel's, Movietone, Light, Crescent
Lesson Learned: You can always trust a man who wears a sweater for a living.
Burning Question: Why would you bring an umbrella to the moon?
penetrate the desert
hollow out your path howling in
the sticking sand
listen to the vibration
the leech and the cocktail-beetle
maaoi lounda ngami with the hug
of a child suicide
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
masks and rotting snows circus
pskow
i push factory in the circus pskow
the sexual organ is square is iron is
bigger
than the volcano and flies off
above mgabati
offspring of distant mountain
crevasses
tropical portugal wharf and
parthenogenesis
of long iron hiding things
dschilolo mgabati bylunda
THE PREGNANT WOMAN:
toundi-a-voua
soca bgye affahou
PIPI:
bitterness without church let's go
let's git synthetic charcoal camel
bitterness upon the church
ururuch the curtains
dodododo
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE EXTINGUISHER:
soco bgye affahou
zoumbye zoumbye zoumbye
zoum
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
there is no humanity there are the
lamplighters and the dogs
dzin aha dzin aha bobobo tyao
cahiiii hii hii
ayboom
yeya yeyo
MR. BLUEBLUE:
incontestably
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
door sealed without brotherhood
we are bitter fel
twist to cede centipede of the
eiffel tower
enlarge lard lord and lard lard
mechanism without pain
179858555 yeyo bibo bibi aha
my god oh my god along the canal
the fever of childbirth laces and
S02H4
MR. BLUEBLUE:
toubo matapo the viceroys of the
nights
they have lost their arms
mouncangama
they have lost their arms
managara
they have lost their arms irregular
polygon
in matzacas the ladybug is bigger
than the cerebral
hemisphere
but where are the houses the
viceroys of the nights
THE PREGNANT WOMAN:
four hundred horses sixty camels
three hundred sable pelts
five hundred ermine pelts
her husband is sick
twenty yellow fox pelts three
chelizun pelts
hundred white and yellow
a big bird alive
ty a a ty a a ty a o ty a o
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
MR. BLUEBLUE:
PIPI:
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
zdranga zdranga zdranga zdranga
di di di di di di di di
zoumbye zoumbye zoumbye zoumbye
dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi dzi
the big one named blueblue
clambers into his despair and
there shits his manifestations from
the last day he wants nothing
from the side and to cloister
himself like the angelus in his
intestinal belfry on the arrival of
the police he is disgusted and gives
up acutely vexed
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
houses flute factory razed head
107 when night came tranquilly
like a scarab
the rabbits surround the cathedral
dral dral and
turn until they become daylight
H20
like the northerly parties who
surround themselves in
ndjaro
THE DIRECTOR:
he died saying that farce is a
poetic element
like sorrow for example
then they sang
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
THE PREGNANT WOMAN:
PIPI:
MR. ANTIPYRINE, FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
crocrocrocrocrocrocrocro
drol
crocrocrocrocrocrocrocro
crodral
in the end he didn't hesitate to
light himself without
help from the cubist and
kintampo and craus and begnius
and nicholas were there and were
canopies the enormous
distances of their enchantment
henceforth called themselves
mganani
PIPI:
i have on my breast 5 so many
beautiful spots
along the edges 16 wounded the
dresses 7 of angels
in a rainbow of center 4
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
pregnant birds who make number
two on the bourgeois
the doodoo is always a child
the child is always a goose
the doodoo is always a camel
the child is always a goose
and we sing
goo goo goo goo goo goo goo goo
goo goo goo goo goo goo
THE DIRECTOR:
i am historical
you come from martinique
we are very intelligent
and we are not germane
MR. SHRIEKSHRIEK:
the energy of interior movement
quick violin mountain
montenigger balcony
and tomorrow i shall be sick in
the hospital
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
soco bgye affahou
the quietudes of oil-bearing
swamps
from which watery yellow
swaddling clothes rise at midday
tarafangama the mollusks pedro
ximenez from batumai
puff up the pillows of the birds
Ca204SPH
the dilation of the volcanoes soco
bgye affahou
irregular polygon sick of super sounds and sunshine
MR. BLUEBLUE:
borkou mmbaz gymnastics
mmbaz 20785
under that garbage down there lies
jerez amantillado
MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
the narrowest parallelepipeds
circulate among the microbes
automobiles and ducks swim in oil
I want to do justice to you
erdera vendrell
MR. BANGBANG:
the songs of the saltimbanques
reassemble familiarly before
the departure
the acrobat secrets spittle in his
stomach
to give to grasp among to give to
give to grasp to grasp
tigvi tigvge
iuuuunuuuuunpht
there where bird hum 100 sing on
the page fence
where night bird sing with the
archangel
where night bird sing for apaches
and you have frozen in heaven
near my beautiful song
in a glassware store
NIPALA GARROO:
you roll up the rainbow the clocks
vaporize
the navel the sun contracts
and the student measured his last
intensity
he was nevertheless in love and
croaked
TRISTAN TZARA:
DADA is our intensity: it sets up
inconsequential bayonets the
sumatran head of the german
baby; Dada is life without slippers
or parallels; it is against and for
unity and definitely against the
future; we know wisely that our
brains will become downy pillows,
that our anti-dogmatism is as
exclusivist as the bureaucrat and
that we are not free and shriek
liberty; severe necessity with
neither discipline nor moral and
we spit on humanity. DADA
remains in the european frame of
weaknesses, it is nevertheless shit,
but henceforth we want to shit in
diverse colors to decorate the
artistic zoo with the flags of every
consulate. We are circus managers
and we whistle through the wind
at the fairs, through the convents,
brothels, theatres, realities,
sentiments, restaurants, ohi, hoho,
bangbang.
We declare that automobiles are a
sentiment that have cuddled us
enough in the slowness of their
abstractions like ocean liners,
ruckuses and ideas. Meanwhile we
exteriorize facility, we search for
the central essence and we are
content if we can hide it; we do
not want to count the windows of
the marvelous elite, for DADA
exists for no one and we want
everyone to understand that. That
is the Dada balcony, I assure you.
From which you can hear the
military marches and come down
slicing the air like a seraphim in a
public bath to piss and understand
the parable.
DADA is neither folly, nor
wisdom, nor irony, look at me
friendly bourgeoisie.
Art was a nut-shell game, the
children assembled words with a
ring at the end, then they cried,
and shrieked the verse, and
decked it out in doll shoes, and
the verse became queen to die a
little and the queen became a
whale and the children all ran till
their breaths did fail.
Then came the great ambassadors
of sentiment who exclaimed
historically in chorus
Psychology Psychology heehee
Science Science Science
Vive la France
We are not naive
We are successive
We are exclusive
We are not simple
and we are all well-versed in
intelligence.
But we, DADA, do not agree with
them, because art is
not serious, I assure you, and if
we show the crime to
say learnedly ventilator, it's to
please you, good
listeners, I love you so much, I
assure you and I adore you.
THE PARABLE:
if you could ask an old lady
the address of a bordello
bir bir bir bir bir bir bir bir bird
who sing on the camel's hump
the green elephants of your
sensibility
each one trembling on a telegraph
pole
four feet nailed together
he looked at the sun so much that
his face flattened out
oua aah oua aah oua aah
Mr poet has a new hat
of straw that was so beautiful so
beautiful beautiful
it was like a holy halo
for truly Mr poet was an archangel
that bird came white and feverish
like
from which regiments comes the
clock7 from that humid music like
Mr Shriekshriek had a visit from
his fiancee at the hospital in the
jewish cemetery the tombs rise
like serpents
Mr poet was truly an archangel
he said that the druggist was like a
butterfly and like a lord and that
life is simple like a bangbang like
the bangbang of his heart
the woman made from balls in
diminishing sizes began to shriek
like a catastrophe
yes
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
sssssssssssssss
the idealist looked at the sun so
much that his face flattened out
taratatatatatatatatata MR. ANTIPYRINE,
FIRE-EXTINGUISHER:
to ndumba to tritriloulu to
nkogundla
there is a great halo where worms
circulate in silence
for worms and other animals also
have pains
sorrows and inspirations
look at windows that roll up like
giraffes
turn multiply hexagons clamber
tortured
the moon puffs up marsupial and
becomes dog
the macaw and the cockatoo
admire the dog
a lily just bloomed in its asshole
it is the flock of mountains in
shirts in
our church that is the west station
the horses
hanged themselves in bucharest
while looking at mbogo
who got onto their bicycles while
the telegraphic
horses get drunk
some ventriloquist's ears flood
four chimney-sweeps who then
crack up like melons
the photographer-priest delivered
three striped children similar to
the violins on the hill push the
pants a mountebank of lunar
leaves balances himself in his
doset
my beautiful child with glass
breasts with parallel ashen arms,
fix my stomach we must sell the
doll
a naughty boy died somewhere
and we let the brains continue
the mouse runs diagonally across
heaven
the mustard runs from a nearly
squashed brain
we have become lamplighters
lamplighters lamplighters
lamplighters
lamplighters lamplighters
lamplighters
lamplighters lamplighters
lamplighters
and then they went away
I found that while looking for something else. Tristan Tzara stuff, not stuff relating to navel-less non-people who should be vomited on by David Warner.
Musical Discoveries: Rachel's, Movietone, Light, Crescent
Lesson Learned: You can always trust a man who wears a sweater for a living.
Burning Question: Why would you bring an umbrella to the moon?
