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Friday 26 August 2022

BLUE LABOUR at DISLAND PARIS BY COLE DENYER

 













 



Ṣ̴̯̥̘͓͍̙̽͑̏̊̒̕E̵̞̼̥̗͈̱̒̈́̓͒͗̆̚M̸̡̢̡̙̦̬̗͚̻̍́̅̌̂͋̓B̶̡̤̳̞̪͖̅͌́̂̔̈L̷̡̛̤͈̲̘̃̃̇͌͐̍́̕͝A̸̛̮̱̦̯̫̠̔̓͂̿̆͊̕͜Ņ̸̛̥̠͙͗̋̅̑̎̂̚͜͜C̴̢͉̘͍̲̗͍̥͊̽̽Ě̷̢̙̘̼̦̥͖  ̶̜̝̮̣̈̈́̽̇̄̌̂̽͜—̷̣̓͌  ̴̼̮̣̔͂͂̂ͅĎ̴̢͎̬̹͙ͅE̸̡̩̅̍̂̃͒̊̈̈͘ͅC̸͙̠͙̘̼̙̩̠͉̺̐́͆͋Ḛ̷̝͍͈̰͍̘̭̱̊̋̕͜P̶̡̛͚͕͔̲͈̩̺̆͌͊̂̈́̽͒͛̀T̵̫̬̠̤͍̍̊͘͘ͅI̵̡̧̛̬̗͓̰̦͔͓̗͊̀̃͋Ò̵̪̣̬̲̟̪̬̞̤̦̒͗̃͐N̷̠̼̳̘̂̂̈͋̊́̏̚͝͝ ̴̡̗̠̲̗̝̂́̌́̾͆̿̂̚ —̶̱̙͖͍̫͔̉͗  ̴̡̖̝̱̤͍̠̞̳̈́̊̔̄́͐̄̄͋̈́ͅD̴͙̞̃̐͝I̴͕̰̞̣̣̒͌̈́̏͗͜͝S̶̡̥͙̯̦̲͛͘Ţ̵̢̯̲̎̀̒̑O̷̢̡̪̗̜͈͉͊́͌͋̾R̸̡̩̲̟̻̹̈́̒̑́́̂̿̀̓̚Ṭ̵̜̼̹̌I̵̧͛̀̀̊̊̕͠O̴͈͉̰̺͌͒̓͑̇N̶̢͙͇̹̻̱̺͊͑̂̎̒͗




Maddie and Maggie

The Tories might not be what they seem (maybe they are); maybe they are a little girl that’s been abducted (maybe not) in Praia da Luz, Portugal in 2007 and that since then hasn’t aged or died. Maddie is still looking down to us with the same innocent, somewhat looming gaze. Maggie has, in fact, died, but she still retains a sense of agelessness, as if she had been mummified precisely in the moment of some important historical event, maybe a crackdown of some strike in the 1980s, a memory nurtured by Thatcherites and Labour-affiliated unionists alike. Maggie and Maddie, they are what they seem and they are not, image and self-generating avatar, brownish-green-eyed and blonde, merged as one, two icons of relatively contemporary British history, creating an idyll that is both terrifying and touching.



Body Language

Shall we believe the McCanns? Do they believe themselves? Youtube teaches us to not trust them since their body language makes them appear suspicious. This is material for a thousand Youtube panels on public lying; public lying––yes, that is the transition to Roger Scruton Experiencing the Sublime in Hull… Where his face has become static, frozen in the moment of an unregimented experience (what’s he dreaming about?), he is transformed––literally––into the character mask (Marx) that he is. Personally, I would rather be peed on by someone wearing that mask than piss on the caricature (in a toilet in Melbourne, Australia).


Termination

Not less of an icon is the little green Terminator-monster, which appears in a no less iconic historical moment (the emergence of the plandemic). It teaches us to be vigilant: it does so with a pirate-like grin. Little green monster may teach us to consult Youtube-panels on the body language of untruth before we hold our breath, get the jab, take off the mask, etc. … It is actually funny to arrange the three works so that they look at each other; lil monster gazes at the others with his healthy (?) eye, being the least monstrous of the three, Maggie-Maddie stares into nothingness, and Roger withdraws into himself (leaves nothing behind but a hull), making it impossible to distinguish between disgust and jouissance. 


Text by Len Sander















Tuesday 23 August 2022

Sunday 14 August 2022

CBUS (draft)




 CBUS

In buckeyed plain 

endowment the O patio 

is on fire in this nether Hell

where unbar planar edge 

baselines from shrum mound to steel gavel 

the largest in the world, supposedly

underlaw light edges schism 

and I burn quickly its irish blood 

having trespassed the crag 

come unto a doleful of goldenrods 

i’ve never seen black eyed susans 

rusting on sharp tool river beds,

persimmon to ear stealing garden chairs 

god knows my best slacks are in bin bags 

and the winters belting frost 

to stiffen inside cardboard box houses 

the unbake of bellwether floors 

low and scrawling in dirty dungarees 

black iced octogenarians 

outside Giant Eagle

and no amount of endless lawns

give primacy to death 

over song sparrows.




Trail cams of hazed children 

in Air Conditioned Nightmare Caves 

found bound and muffled

with Clorox hands and feet

tin mound ditches 

just to watch who snuffs it 

without permit 

of constitutional qualified adult 

get a chase on the boarderline clubfooted

scent in open fields 

kids sing 4 points 

to the state of exception 

see how they fall 

RAH! RAH! RAH! 

Lee J. Cobb flag 

Mandalay Bay Highway to Hell 

walk backwards ipseity in pip sight 

of mineness my empty room 

is gorging minimal self 

heres a cosy for your hand 

in the pulpit toxin juice 

laguna beach lawning starres

and rising thirst, pourer Phil 

everytime i ring we are poorer still

making guacamole 

in the graveyard tilth 

 


Friday 12 August 2022

Stephen Christopher Yaxley-Lennon (Tommy Robinson) with stage IV advanced Metastatic Melanoma, 2022



                                                                2022 oil on canvas (35cmx30cm)



 

Tuesday 9 August 2022

MARGATE (Draft)





 Margate 


Aged 15, xed the patted divan 

from the converge of the Swale 

to the death of serpents

on laurels over hard mortar 

The Sanctuary Lodge 

and its laminated CV’s 

gaffered to municipal bins 

all demountable shuttering 

on piloti buried podiums 

I mixed pounded pebbles

with scrim coinages & TC’s

near Garlinge dirge 

nothing really is nothing here

its cranked glazing calcined 

flint DREAMLAND the soft strip

is asbestos holding it aloft to 

Stephen Christopher Yaxleys 

old panoply of grimoires

or are we now inside 

a viable regeneration project

now bowing lowly down 

to No council FALSE TEETH 

in large green letters

the name of my enemy 

is you in stage whispers 

my rent arrears my causal shifts 

gross upreared the Miles and Barr Staff 

shelling Paul Weller shireboys 

in aggregate crud the cockle table rots 

Bollingers from bottom to top

on natural power float concrete floors 

non absorbable hearts of RIBA architects 

under Arlingtons glow demolition squad

its cliquish, gossipy parochial pewter 

colour cash chubs 

your starved bleeding coke 

nose harroped to spakenreuz 

rosy mythed by mums 

I’m locked out on Princes Street 

in macadamed light had to break in

this awful place is 

unhealed left hanging in the air 

sargassum stone piered out

to hawthorn three minuscule mussels 

adhered to hackle and piss next to 

custom-built victorian bathing machines

its bandits birched to hush in 

Faded Terracotta Rich Colours 

by Farrow & Ball 

gentle shores holm oaked  

a significantly higher mental depression 

here ‘soil taken from it 

to any place whatsoever

kills snakes there’ 

said a Thanet council spokesman 

as the Margate Members Club 

cavort pearl named 

body gyres whisperless prannets 

encircle the cold of this crap flat

for the inner lining of my heart

is flint retrieving stolen secret scrims 

kept in your infected areas