“Senor would like to see the jewellery?”
It’s a sad state of affairs
Gongs of violence picture postcard floating over vistas of Onolulu Ew York Aris Ome Oston. Held tight overcoat—held tight distant memory flesh of another time. Gongs of violence? Berserk machine. Think in picture dreamtime of another planet—your mother? Over here… beat it to over there…
“Senor would like a sad state of affairs?”
“It’s my violence—teach you something? Gongs and how.”
Gongs of Onolulu Ew York Aris Ome Oston—picture postcard 1920s Berlin. Exploding star of Minraud skies opened the shaving kit over torn skin. Held tight another flesh moved over there…
It’s a miracle how these things happen, I was eating in Max’s Lunchroom when they came in a message from the board a long look around the room cool and casual and I was sent to speak a certain way. “I am very technical meester” said a small satin creature bug eyes beat your mother to over there. I moved about in quiet time—I moved about a blazing ‘atmosphere’. Wind of scarred time we look on technical meester—gongs of meester held stale overcoat. “Senor would like to see the jewellery?” I said I’m done with the whole affair. Learn to talk a certain way? Picture postcard over Berlin…
Rain drew up on Fullerton Street where the old brick house stood vines climbing walls. Agent B-23 to the combat area—Minraud exploding skies—a large slash in the film banister held the old brick house. Sad State of Affairs over headlines of violence. Brisbane Arcade old hat shop—blast of tearoom over Brisbane skies—the people mill about in a calm green stillness dictated by the green Venusian pull.
Push button control over picture postcard—SSA, sad state of affairs—headlines drew up on Fullerton Street raining night-times of Onolulu Ew York Aris Ome Oston. Teach you something? This is how I came to be—this is a technical report on the nature of things—very technical meester—and how? See to it over here, beat your mother to over there. This is how I came to be…