feverbeast

tokyograms

2006-09-29T01:21:00.000-07:00

神道ってなに？

*****

ティsっじゃぱねせいｓとたｌちゃんせ

*****

drink deeply of this deeppresso
screams the light

*****

stalled it all day every day
writing in my head, only pleasure--
not enough of the connect because of its frequent displeasure

*****

think a disappear,
snake my head into the no

*****

come to,
your ob-scene isn't mine anymore

*****

the unsound city
guts you alive, still wants more

*****

it would have been noon all day
that day

*****

and there would have been so much more
to live/die for

*****

Omar's guitar, Cedric' voice, the band's transverberations--
my stomach turns at　all the glory I renege

*****

forever found loss
cover over eternity

*****

now's the time I can be really immoderate--
always looked beyond life

*****

relight the sky　this time
make it blind

*****

the suicide note I've been writing since birth

*****

all of these are what thou shalt not know
saith Satanarchrist

*****

evolutive convolutive involutive express
devolition

*****

all of the doors open themselves
and what

*****

that big de-generator
is one of two that never stop working

*****

such words
to shame

*****

all my philosophy equalled
sickness unto death

*****

I feel your care across the globe.
Sorry.

*****

this prayer is us

*****

the writing goes up

metalligrams

2006-09-29T01:18:00.000-07:00

The fragmentary imperative, linked to the disaster. That there is, however, practically nothing disastrous to this disaster: this is surely what we must learn to think, without, perhaps, ever knowing it.
--Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster

What are these songs
straining at sense--
you the consequence?
--Louis Zukofsky, Anew 10

jazzfish scrips & the benefits of failing eyes--
Analog Party in My Head Tonight!
You bring the sun.

*****

that stereo is a television--
sublimates distraction/discription

*****

dot all the t's, cross all the eyes--
shti

*****

to render the Cry unto the Keep--
It's Real! Tattoo the lionize, these economies of loss--

*****

like knowhat you no
--dot intercess--
like, yes

*****

we shake the keys, sing Night our way--
repeat, repeat--until She comes at last

*****

Become the steel bars. Wreak this habilitation
in the clef of atom to atom. And live.

*****

Now I want it to turn red.

*****

No--Master--Work

*****

I send it You resend I resend You it sounds like
"awum . . . wum"

*****

Until I burn to

*****

Ugly. And even if it is nothing but,
it is good.

*****

Immeasurable and I measure the marks of a mephistological
and might I　say yeshualogical interval

*****

will the speaker blow for our disgustatory pleasure?--aaahhhh,
the smell of ozone wafts from the 12" cone, churns the gastric juices,
clears the palate to savor the shit of life

*****

Became deaf and
in-material

*****

do nothing for perfection's sake
many lovers

*****

Mine the Name--
there’s god in them there cliffs

*****

that bag of cat-shit we meant to throw in the dumpster:
it bakes and festers in the car all day, goes everywhere we go

*****

alloy the screams of days' elide--
Again, Let's Forget Life

*****

That's Sick Fuck. The longer his hair grows, the more facile his fingers; hence deeper into Pentatonia--closer, closer to those elemental glyphs, the Pentagrammata: Jesus, Satan

*****

fingerpulse awake--
the beat leads

*****

glockenspiel incisors puncture cerebra,
incite the Every-Orifice

*****

hostile to yr Otherself, you strategize against that enemy--
you jamble it in bardo immersion; the Army of Otherselves mounts within

*****

I drum these lines via hyperbolesque:
jaghammer jazzoffications; distort designs, enrage time

*****

Slayer the day
Sunn O))) denight

*****

welcome this, the Molecular Tense

*****

Never was a hyperthesis improving so little real
such as the One the Web

*****
there at the origin/name of S/he Who Is Known as
the Demon of Poetry

*****

flagellelogram--
THAT'S what broke it--

*****

stare your acquisitions,
try to renew

*****

if only where wine urns flowed--
these metalligrams' communicative currency

*****

unnamable motives trickle like Milk of Magnesia
from the suture of I and Thou

*****

my naked corpse
and the requiem stains

*****

artillery the light
that glares this crisp, this skin

*****

yo odio--Yo/Dio

*****

you want a close-up of the foetus--only outline;
you want to hear its cry--only stirrings

*****

what's missing--It

*****

Do You Like It Weird? Why Is It So Heavy?
prick the lineprick the lineprick the lineprick the lineprick

*****

Word

*****

every time i plot

*****

last time i was here--
severed campaign

*****

the dis-stance--
Try As You Will--stays, goes

*****

Geezer, Ozzy, Tony, Bill
on the moon

*****

a new breed, a new level--
Bellerophonic belles-lettres plume velvet lies

*****

prefix, unset the old fix--
de-, un-, re-, ad- become postes/fixes--

*****

how many more belly-flops into
the abyss?

*****

matrix expands, seethes
as if who knew

*****

peel off the scabs of Time--
Revel8

*****

understood

*****

that sexish fingerblimp
abides the tight

*****

Entertain This Fuckin' Party
of Me

*****

recast the monument to the sidewinder--
it does not strike

*****

couldn't know

*****

the glint of the epic: and a single word you Spin ad infinitum
ergo nauseum

*****

all the best stuff comes heading any old place,
waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

*****

knee

*****

what I been doin'?

*****

all of it arrives,
dies

*****

999 passages aks discord 2 catch up
2 the surplus of hormones that weaponized unity

*****

what difference This Pretense
That?

*****

and when does its animals?

*****

drama:
nothing but slide

*****

five tones the Incessant Puke

*****

and into the epic
by dint of the glyph

*****

how many more white spots
until the Dawn?

*****

he has no time for anyone's nonsense but his own--
she? everyone's nonsense her own, their Right--

*****

Hey there, Sabato! Whoa!

*****

shaky knees, this plastic cup,
this girl, I want

*****

so much rhymes with "hell"; I
refuse to end

*****

who-where-you?
why refuse subjectification?

*****

mercurial gryphon

*****

dog-moon screamex & summer's mace--
what have I to be saved from?

*****

strangify It strangulates

*****

for this kind of thing you're too hungry--
best learn to survive on the rhizome

*****

emerge from this peace-cape--
en-disrupt the Corrodes

*****

they did a sonogram
and heard the monster screaming backwards

*****

no tree--no roots--exponentials X
pounds virtue--ferrous sparks

*****

crystallizing

*****

here in the bosom of Actinide Park--
radiate the scene--decompose me

*****

read any reference--Black's, Webster's, Guitar Grimoire, Qur'an--
cover to cover--then you'll know, brain

*****

your monothetic sightmare withers
by the very breath of that ultraphasiac

*****

I teach the new grammar in a little schoolhouse just over there;
the tiny young creatures lovingly abominate like Vesuviuscum

*****

building blocks after light

*****

ragethru fallopian tubes--
make Her the Mother of All Mothers

*****

just let that congeal over there

*****

maggot metallurges
my demi-apathy a dynamo

*****

meet me in the Straits of Taint

*****

sea that right time smoldering you--
the drowned ember--folderol

*****

such a scream, the eunuch in my head
who whoops "fuck this bullshit" all day, the Jack of Mars

*****

when every word is foreign,
including what I thought--
Avalanche

*****

enter the beast blast in this year of our mord, scammo domine;
subluxate that mange vamp--we're the Aces Slow--

******

be a fool like Don King--make it up--
your hypersexicalization will make U rich, famous, heard

*****

cherchez-moi en l'immanence demesne

on hearing mars volta's _amputechture_

2006-09-12T12:04:00.000-07:00

lurch more, lurch better--
attack the immiserator
thru the wall of confused tears--
attack simply by remaining
your captivating and fucked-up self

Tsvetaeva Was a Metal Poet

2006-08-31T12:50:00.000-07:00

Check Marina's poem out. Metal as fuck going on a century ago:

The Demon In Me

The demon in me's not dead,
He's living, and well.
In the body as in a hold,
In the self as in a cell.
The world is but walls.
The exit's the axe.
("All the world's a stage,"
The actor prates.)
And that hobbling buffoon
Is no joker;
In the body as in glory,
In the body as in a toga.
May you live forever!
Cherish your life,
Only poets in bone
Are as in a lie.
No, my eloquent brothers,
We'll not have much fun,
In the body as with Father's
Dressing-gown on.
We deserve something better.
We wilt in the warm.
In the body as in a byre.
In the self as in a cauldron.
Marvels that perish
We don't collect.
In the body as in a marsh,
In the body as in a crypt.
In the body as in furthest
Exile. It blights.
In the body as in a secret,
In the body as in the vice
Of an iron mask.

Marina Ivanova Tsvetaeva

2006-08-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

laugh the swoops
on "um" alight
for flits
and back
to ostinato's immodulate

trombone words
their surd our cause
celebrate cerebration
in glissolalic
koinoniac yelps

inherit the other's tongue--
despeak the wants

2006-08-25T14:14:00.000-07:00

rivers of pixels
spill this revolution:
the pink noise
of the other's dream

spatters me

then thine & thee

until near all of us swim
what was once thought a stream of scabrous display,
but is more and more commonly considered
Today

somewhen

2006-08-17T12:12:00.000-07:00

my interests nest everyare
until the forgettings
cast all disrelief;
warm, I smother beneath
the actual's bristle

alpha zeta omega

2006-08-16T11:31:00.000-07:00

I apprentice to the suicide victim--
rushthru platonic pharmakon--
we conjoin, thrill as we en-chime the echeas
of Modernitas Amphitheatre with that Old Discordia Concors--
twinned--
aghast
the Holocaust's living waters flow--
toll our copper's motif--
zizzle the Father's zygote--
Medicate the Dead--

Boundary Haunt

2006-08-15T08:22:00.000-07:00

Bat features, the office of bat
Features ears, little heart
A beat-beat. This room full
Of flutters. In this the fields
Trampled in escape, mass
End-of-it-all on motorcycles
Escape; humans headed to
The caves. In that room we
Always leave the light off.
This room is the kitchen,
Small teeth for cupboard
Knobs, swivel-eye light
Fixtures. Enough of these
We’ll have a squeaking city.

Resistance Metal

2006-08-11T11:55:00.000-07:00

Objection metal. Appearance metal. The horned rim stainless stud metal. The squeal, the squeeze metal.

Ornate metal. The substance metal. The sheet of plywood over a mud pit metal.

Organized metal. T.V. metal. Insane supped up to drive a mile metal.

Wrinkled rusted forgotten metal. Transparent metal. Intentional metal.

Hold the line metal. Don’t give in metal. The Persian gulf metal draining worry into a pot of ambition metal.

The soldier metal. The forgotten cold street metal. The wet rain wet ground metal. The slick tires metal. The all day waiting metal.

The unsatisfied metal. The wet rag metal. The wet rag stuffed in the mouth metal. The ransom metal. The accused metal. The gaining ground over tyranny metal. The infrastructure metal.

incomplete

2006-08-10T13:13:00.000-07:00

what other dimensions
to that transverberation
would it have taken
to make you a star,
o planemo?

blake gramophone

2006-08-10T12:58:00.000-07:00

brar
brar-rar
brarmon
RAAAARRRGH!!!!!
money, G.
The divorce of heaven & hell
was such a bitch;
I knew they cd never really get along,
but they were better together than apart.

September Will Be Amazing for Prog-tologists!

2006-08-07T11:53:00.000-07:00

Besides Mastodon's new conceptual piece, Blood Mountain (see link below), Mars Volta will also release their new sonic adventure entitled Amputechture next month. Check out their web-site to read the whole story of their upcoming tour, their upcoming album, and their sweet new Toltec-mask-style logo. Prog/Rock/Metal Out!!!

Fang Bastard

2006-07-28T11:38:00.000-07:00

Squeezing the Tubes

Beyond the Cave of the Fang Bastard

Wrong in the head

Or just fucked

Squeeze the well, toe stubber

Your rage feels furry too

The Fang FANG bastard

Revel in the tubes to machine

Mind a way out of this beef stride of impotence

Think of little Bruce Dickenson

In his SaXon fur bikini

Belting badland badassed despite ridiculous nakedness

Squeeze the Fang Bastard

Into the cave

Shell of Blisters

2006-07-27T12:07:00.000-07:00

So wicked stench
Trends us to avoid

So wicked crosses
Spend us into grave bones

So harmonious snake glands
Tremendous to the slave domes

So bonneted whip-cracks
Entomb us in the hippodrome

So purple trip skulls
Bonus with a knife ticket

So siempre malodor
Groans us paranoid.

2006-07-27T11:21:00.003-07:00

the nucleotides
twist it

—I want to say “twist everything”
and/or “twist nothing”
but nothing and/or everything were clichés
since the first human thought—

it shits sky
and sky’s fire

—these metapoetic asides
will date themselves, too, in time, now—

the bowels of fight
rework it,
vindicate a hyperpoiesis

—who told me
nobody would ever read this?—

what it meant was this:
sometimes you never win

Sweet Metal!

2006-07-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

Hey, just some sites to check out for the real metal, yo . . .
Best Metal Band Now--www.mastodonrocks.com
Best Metal Labels Nows (lots of free music downloads!)--www.southernlord.com
www.relapse.com
This is just a start. Please respond and tell all the other feverbeasts out there where the best place to go for the sweet, sweet metal is.

2006-07-26T18:10:00.000-07:00

GOAT SONG

2006-07-26T18:07:00.000-07:00

And revised to wit
Like the bombshell or afterward
In the tabloids
Pills each inference tangos to
Ordained the ever rafters
Diminished, canticle organization
Resist the smooth juncture’s fetish:
Farm-rooted to the bleary contest.

Absolve oh detangler, absolve
The mesh nylons, the fast fact
Of continence, obey

Lurch church custodian of the watermark

Hang two corsets in the lumberyard
Next to a knotted dream
Carpathian wheat grinders in stockinged
Resistance stand up and goat dance
The Metal finger flags delivered
To skewer, prancing daggers of impotent rage.

One nimrod squanders the fringed
Leather jacket on warm afternoons
To loungey spring-like for hard looks and metal
Accessories, soon the skull rings and cross necklace
Give over to a crack in the car seat
Floor mats of obscured treasure

Excess in the soft core, the switch of hair
For music the concession of mind

To will, to wit, read about it
One farm raised length of angry resistance
Three chords heavy, some drums.

The Feverbeast Reads!

2006-07-24T11:38:00.001-07:00

Zoroaster hath read at the Warehouse on Tuesday, July 18. Thou shouldst grovel for forgiveness for missing this Metal Event of the ages, yet Zoroaster understands that one cannot be at all places at once. Thence, the English Department Graces have vanquished the ill demons of the Luddite and posted Zoroaster's reading at <www.english.fsu.edu>. Once thine fingers guide you to this website, click "podcasts" and then "Debra Woolley and Zac Hanson." The first fifteen minutes of the reading is Debra Woolley spinning Jamaican-flavored manna. Zoroaster advises thee not to miss this. Next, Jerkasaur (He Who Is Also of the Feverbeast) reads the epochal Metal Manifesto he hath recently penned with Zoroaster. The epigrammatic fury in this scroll shalt not be ignored. And finally, Zoroaster combats the Evils of Conformity in a variety of manners, not least of which are his readings of "freecore," "boris," and "chorasylides." Bring thyself and thine beloved to the slaughter . . . of totality, that is.

Today Is the Day--_Sadness Will Prevail_

2006-07-21T07:41:00.000-07:00

Disorientalism

2006-07-21T07:22:00.000-07:00

I. journey 2 the disorient

whence the kreep tide—
whence the kreep flood—
whence the soniferous reek—
the vision of the phantom albatross—
majick karess—
whence upon a psychedelikatessen kounter—
there shall nevermore predikate—
words slowly deflate, desikkate—
“this” a shriveled, brown, bloated sac that indi-
kates nothing
like every other word-akt, kiss, yearning look—
whence all disorients, nothing to konnect, nothing konnects—
kreep tide metamorphic kreep flood—
it shall prevail because some kreep somewhere
thinks he kan kontrol the way u kreate—
unless you kognize that kreep tide—
kognize that kreep tide

II. movement

—you better think this is Wrong
—it’s Heavy-handed
—it’s Florida 2006(66)

This year, look forward 2 ghettoes occupied by the police
2 ensure a Charlie Krust
Republifist Guv’nor Viktimy,
this & o so many more SS tactics . . .

& then you roll yr eyes at
me
verbing nouns
nouning verbs
enjamming in da mid-
dle o’ dat word
& ask
“Where’s the soul?”
or say
“it’s just typing”
perhaps a little like they said
Trane made “mindless street noise,”
simply “saxophone skreaming,”
yet I assure you if you open yr ears
2 his solo delirium on “Alabama,”
you’ll know what it meant and it meant
“Alabama is fucked in the ‘60’s!!!”

I’m no Coltrane
and I don’t have it as hard as so many,
but if it is fucked for any number of people,
it is fucked 4 everyone,
even the Republifascists
who skew the rules
to perpetuate their Vader grip on everything;
most of all it’s fucked for them,
so fuck them.

and if I’m hear going deedly-deedly-deedly-deedly-dee in hemidemisemisyllables
in dodekasemic kromatic saturation
it’s a koz’ dis place is so fucked
by King George’s madness
(=simplicity in the face of complexity)
and how it has soaked into
his witty witto bwuver Jeb
that all I kan do is hope to disorient
hope to disorient
you,
my students,
my kolleagues,
set the whole thing askew,
‘koz things really are
going to be even more Wrong
—with Prince Krust on the provincial throne
—you better think this is Wrong
—it’s Heavy-handed
—it’s Florida 2006(66)

III. Alkemy As Verb

it’s like the Metal,
time to get all Prophetikal
& defamiliarize what’s passed
4 the Politikal,
yeah, u shd be barking
like animals
at the shit the so-kalled Demokrats
have pulled in your name
—slimy back-alley power sellouts
—a vote 4 war, a vote 4 their gun shares

reanimate that karkass
that was kaught in the kreep tide,
do it akording 2 that which u
know of light

let it go
real life will come
another dimension

kill that Frankenstein they patched
2gather u, 2 entertain u
while they rape u

Republifucks & Demokreeps won’t know what hit ‘em
if everyone who knows these twerps are full of shit
yells “bullshit” all at once

IV. sailing back

annihilate that soniferous reek
& replace it with the breath of life

2006-07-21T06:42:00.000-07:00

Metal #2 Now Available, Yo . . .

2006-07-07T09:29:00.000-07:00

Noise Lava

2006-07-07T09:19:00.000-07:00

Which is the doom of the snake
Which the driver in the subatomic

Lean into the heavy-heavy
With brain the brain cudgel

No neck outlines the sadistic end
Permanent deflowered knots

Binding the horns to the skin
Bonnet over loud surging to grind

Out the grind out the edge
From a razor beam, diffusion

On burning me through, carries
Me through the burning uber fuzz

Churning the amp’s misanthropic
Leaden hammer to liquid palls

Dillenger Escape Plan

2006-07-03T07:34:00.000-07:00

Whereby the incisions are clean
And amputations lean directly from
The windows for a leer
At your chunky bits, the ones piling up
Around the mail slot.

Nothing ends so well as what does
With a hail of bullets.

2006-07-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

Metal #1 Now Available

2006-06-29T11:02:00.000-07:00