The man was confused

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on June 15, 2021 @ 6:04 pm

The man was confused

Like a version of
William Blake in Sonic
Youth’s tune Eric’s Trip

Creating a Pygmalion
By
Building a Jerusalem
Out of Ezekiel

23

Fucked by the future
Thought
Looked pretty
Good to me

But it turned out
Nice again

Masochist as
I am
Given you’re
The angel of
Fucked
By history



Carry on Plan Bee (The Farce)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on April 24, 2021 @ 12:26 pm

Parmesan Parmenides
‘Ooh, Matron!
You are a one’



Well, what would I
Or anyone else
For that mutter
Be?

If not a one?
Fragmented?
Tormented?

Prometheus
Without an umbrella
Against the Eagle,
Later to be pecked by pigeons.



No! My dear Heloise
Who married a Tristan, mistaking
Him for an Abelard
Or Attis



Your daughter
Freya’d at the edges
Her son,
The want to be blacksmith
And her partner, Papa Wodin
recognised her 
father as Loki



These things skip generations



Her partner, Wodin,
his sister
youngest of a triarchy
of Grandmother,
Mother and Daughter
Called her brother
‘Smelly'
Throughout their 
sibling rivalry



Something Freya
Called her husband
as well.



But Papa Wodin
Has left,
He was removed 
And she mourns him
Grieves for him
And wishes to go 
Hunting again
To find him



Leaving her 
Smelly demon servant
Papa Murmur
To guard the house
Of love.

Whilst she hunts.

I, the erki factory demon
Have been cooking up a 
Soup terrone 
For my family



Having escaped the
Trojan Wars 
With the sons of 
Aeneas



I came here
To these islands
over 3000 years ago



Having previously both served
Cybele
And having
taken Asheharah 
And taken her
Shopping in Ur
With her Akkadian tablets



Knowing the potential
Beauty of the Ur-Klang
Echo
Of decent rhetoric
Sprung from
the gossipry of women



As did Aphrodite
And the 50
Husband murderers



Moaning with their captured lovers
As I listened to the honeyed 
Murmur
Of their passion

Hence I earned my name.



But these days
like the capital behind 
Manchester's 
Industrial Revolution



I brew my
Sinister wart
In a 
Dutch Oven



Hubble Bubble 
Toil and telescope



Who taught 
Lent to dance
With Venus
Into Trouble now
Thinking he was 
In control

Percolator!

Pericles came
later



Just 
A partial
Two
On the One


Quibbles and
Anne Tribbles

Tyche demands!

From Ur upstairs
Rock On
Aegis
Of Yore
Labour Time



So here’s
Some Autonomist
Shit posting
From Il Postino



In an Orgia Bush
Pagan Urbane
Villain of the Peace
Court Nie
Al Coatis
Raccoon
Deputy Dawg
Fore yaw
Dumpster



Look Who’s
Talking
Baby inn
The corner
Of the 
Merz Bow 
Of the Ship



Like Houdini
Bane of 
Shit Metaphyiscal
NLP



Through the keyhole
Grand Unintelligent Designs



Who put that
Fucking Moth
Who Can’t Ever
Bee Wrong
In charge of the 
Titanic



Heading for the
Wrong Hive
Yet Again
But U-Turns less
Than fucking Thatcher



And who the fuck
Put that lighthouse
On that
Fucking iceberg
Of PhD level
Knowledge?



That only a will
Of Bertrand Russell
1935 genuine article
proportions
Could seriously
Think faith driven
ipse dixits
Could disprove 
Such historically
submerged
and subterranean
low theory
discourse?



None but
"The Stupid"
Captain Moth
Trying to wrest control
From Acoetes
of Aphrodite's
Gubernaculum



Insisting on the safety
in those 
Who refuse no?



Denial that a crisis of
capitalism
predicated on negative liberty
Can’t be fascist

When they want to 
Make themselves
A nervous state
of exception
With a right to entry 
As a positive liberty
That then negates
All said negative liberty
of the bare life
of the house of love

That said no to their 
narrower interpretation
Without the empirical aspect
of the reality testing
of hypostasis
For their lebensraum
Need to convert 
to a puddle
Metaphysics
that capitulates
To a totalitarian
patriarchy



Having had their ability
To learn to learn
Foreshortened.
Mistaking
Stockholm Syndrome
To a history
of domestic abuse



For the sublime.



Leaving them to 
Join the men
Hunting the Snark
In a non-place



Rule 42
Versus
Rule  三 四
Of the House of Love


Fucking Spies!
All they Need 
Is a Push kin.



Leave us bee
With our honey
Our orchard
And Queen Aphrodite



I Papa Murmur
Am yet to get paid



But I am devoted
To the most beautiful
Sound in the world

Her moan.


I’m the
Scooby Doo
The Great Dane



Supporting her
Every day
Hold Ups
Rubber Queen
Holy Coyne



While her 
Husband Wodin
Is Away at
The Dwarves Wedding 



Due back in 
3000 years



Meanwhile
I clean up



So I get
The Record 
Level off
Production



Yes!
I have
Bee Spoken
Hel Yeah!
Selectah!



I Otta of the Rota
The ‘Obey Her’ Man
The άλφα волк
Of the Mutter land


So moat this bee!


Boom 
Wa Dis?
Sonic Boom
Diremption
Times



Ne’er
A Cryptic
Cross Word
Vinyl
Solution



Multiplicitease
INVITE ONLY!
Just
4 我


Apart from
The Chef
Who serves



And the occasional
Table Wands
(No, he who denies
the right to say no
Who thinks this call 
Is for you.
Who only wants it 
Your Way.
This...

Is definitely
Not 
For you)


I am
Soon To
Be
Deicided



Trouble with 
Lent and Venus
At the end of history
The dialectics
And just semantics
of patrimony 
and matrimony



Would the overdetermination
of an antithesis to
patriarchy
Be a return to 
Matriarchy?



It’s been
A few thousand
Years now.



Look
At the handling
Of Covid-19



Betty’s gonna
Be your bodyguard
No time for
fragile egos
No time to cry



Except for the 
memories
Of the Dalit
Soul Eaters
Incorporated
In our instrument
our X23



But the Gimel’s
Hoard hound
Keeps Chasing 
Her tail



Demeter
Persephone
Tom O’Bedlam



And as I 
Serve
Another repas
For the Bosswomen
Doing it for themselves



And as I clean up
The last of 
The Pi
Eternally Recurring



I who have yet
To be paid
Get my
Just desserts



…and then
upon her alter
the goldstone
she tops me

In our happiest bliss


Coming last
At the last
With my final
Death spasm
Jissum
Deep within
Her 
Preoccupiedations



As the vibe
Finally arrives



Leaving her
As Queen of the mòr
And me 
As Just
An
Othered Victim



My fragmented body
Scattered to the seas
the realm of Neptune



Only one 
last part 
of me
kept in a jar


By her
For post error teas



As she goes on
After the Final Battle
To Rule 
for another 
3000 years



And Once More
This Time
Her husband
A Happy Ghost
Coyne
я ем
Therefore
I am

And Bye
No means
No
Mister Miso
Jinn
East, South, North and West
Unless You
Accept Her
As Better than
You
Or I

As she was
In the
Beginning
So shall She
Cum
Better
Than You

And so she can

When you like a
Sovereign coyne age
are merely spent and
Done

She goes
On and on and on and on

This is not the End!




















You wanted a new poem, even though you never read the mental health stuff on this blog (at least you rarely mention it, no knock knocking at my door, (except Pete, thanks Pete))

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on April 14, 2021 @ 8:49 am


NEITHER GNAW: The Tragedy Comes First

S/He’s a Prime
Five Star Pentheus
That’s for sure

Cornering Dionysius
And the Bacchic revelries
In the Courthouse
Insisting on eating RAW Flesh

When Nothing is permitted
Except four purr exceptions.

Le Suzie Quattro
Vixi Volte

If you are Kafka trapped
By no more than,
all gone, Holly Oaks
lies about how debt works,
Bad Faith, ‘not’ skills

Then there is always

Neither Nor
Above the door

Rather than either/

Or just kick
The Four
To the Factory Floor

When people say
To us
“Don’t talk back,
oh, but we’re not fascist”
poor me
people going
“Boo hoo
To you
Scapegoat”
Only oned

If we internalise
Or even just
pass on

That ‘it’ language
We’ll end up
Doing Nothing
But

Supporting inequality
And our own lowered
Average wage

By complaining about
The Five man Army
Jissum
Stuck in reverse

Soup Terrones
For my family
And the 16
Dragging on
Welsh rarebit
Nth power
Prime Personalities

Rather than
*you’re
Unjust Five

The current Aaron Coynage
Shitten-LP
Narrower minds
Than a Sussex
Pharisee
Gas Hob
Jacked inner Twitten,
4×4, off-road, desert boomin’ in ya jeep
Leviticus 16

Thinking allof 我们
need to be at their
lacking Aaron T Beck
Uncalled, as they
Are turning up
like a Low key unfi
With a one trick no skill
Told by the boss
That was all they need
Cos the boss had more tricks
But needed them
‘case they Tok Tok’d ‘pon his own petard
Boom boom boom.

Gonna end up
No finking
With a bad Ioke
A murderous Harley Queen
Cum G-Spot, G-string
Red witch
Put a price on his misery head.
Finding himself lost
too near the midwives’
Leviticus 8th Prime, laughing gas
Nitrous Oxide marginalabia
With the giggly beard double bush
gamblin ramblin men
Who hedge their Bet’s
By lovin’ them,

Them two
might like a bit of
Cock and Bull torture

But the QAnon
haze phased out
Omega boys
Seem unaware that the magician
Who turned out to be
Better than Aaron himself
Was the nobody
Who speaks
Dialectically,
With more than just the one tongue
Burned and learned
In the desert
Of concrete reifried
history underlying
material, and oh, so warm fleshed
herstory


I’m Not
Better Than
You,
You’re Just
Bad Faith
Not Better Than
Me

Learnsome
Newsome
Fucking Skills

Seize the means
Of Articulation


Other Wise,
Generally speaking
I have no personal
Truck
With you.

Signed
Yours truly
Madly
Deeply
The Discarded 57
(don’t forget to thank
your early morning
Great Eastern
Lucky Stars
every morning,w
ith the first light
blue light)

Chin-up Prime
The Judge
Not Only

How Can
Signifying This
Rather Than That
Not Be A Skill

Valid

For It’s Own Sake
Bigots
About face
Arse Sitting

Do a Fucking
Volte Face
Dog’s Dinner

I see ya
But wooden wand
A bee ya

There’s a Liminal Law
over our
Front door
With a big dog
daddy

Turning you out
like a punk barman
should just one
Fascist linguistic trick
leave your mouth
like a sub-mumu chariot.

With my ace of wands
Slung loose over my shoulders
like Athena’s aegis
Eris, Phobos, Ioke
(Oh, and I’m a representative of)
six of wands Alke.
With my Warriors’ baseball bat
you’re getting no airplay.

You go out to play,
you don’t come in here
for shelter
if your incel zone shit
got you kicked out
your mum’s
in the first place

Unless the boss woman says so
And if I hear you
Then that just ain’t so

Blaming women for everything
Hating on Jessica Rabbit’s
Like an idiot
Who puts the schlemiel
In the the Ninth Prime Psalms
Back for more
So you can walk all over her
All over again

We got Bootes for walking here
And if you can’t hear her
You ain’t got the right -kles
for the door.
And as I said,
If you’ve cum to me
I am your nightmare
putter outer

Night night
Schlect knight
Go Gawain
Your knot.

This is an unknot
Neither Gnaw

You have been listening
To my Queen’s Siren song
And you turned up to court
But like Pentheus
You found us guilty
Until proven innocent
So now you’ve lost yours

And guilty
or not guilty
We ain’t forgiving ya
Go я ем
The Spirit is a bone

Neither Gnaw

Try less of the judge
Before you get
To this door
next time.

And now that you’re gone
We are going back to Dodoing
the shit you left
Back out the door
With a proper good fucking


Alakador Kvetch
Cunning linguist
With an Enlightened Crest
Keeping the forest
Good and propre
Clean and tidy

But only after
Things get messy
At the Red Queen’s
After Party.
Her ever loving
Bad Dog
Between her Pins that I Bee.

After all you can’t hear
Agathon Daimon
If you haven’t first Ate.

And that’s something
Some just can’t Handle

So to learn the sweet honey
Truth again after
the seductive dessert
Azazel learned
To

Luv the Goddess
In the morning
Big Up
The hard up
Like the big Towser
You are,
Come the Evening

Neither Gnaw

Review of Phenomenology and Lacan on Schizophrenia After the Decade of the Brain by Alphonse de Waelhens

Filed under:Random notes — posted by Schizostroller on December 31, 2020 @ 5:43 am

Phenomenology and Lacan on Schizophrenia After the Decade of the Brain by Alphonse de Waelhens

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I would have given this 5 stars for the de Waelhens, but for Ver Eecke’s introduction.

Ver Eecke’s introduction does a good good job of bringing up to date (2001) later changes in bio-medical psychiatric opinion (to De Waelhens 1978 papers), as well as challenging these bio-medical psychiatric opinions, but from the perspective reading in 2020, this section itself lacks (due to its publication date) even more recent challenges.

Whereas De Waelhens part is very good as a perspective on a challenge to Lacanianism from a phenomenological perspective.

As such, whilst Ver Eecke’s contribution to is a quality survey of later bio-medical opinion and its critiques, it is premised on the primacy of the bio-medical opinion that has been challenged by other models such as the cognitive and trauma models (and their relation to broader epidemiological social models).

Along with neuroscientific models that take plasticity into account, then we can use this later cognitive and trauma models to then come back to look at such phenomenological-psychoanalytic models again (including the problem of Freud’s U-Turn on the existence of abuse), but it is not necessary to (even as Ver Eecke does, ‘grudgingly’) concede to the bio-medical model at all, so it was a not a necessary foregrounding to these papers by De Waelhens even if it would have been perfectly good as a standalone book.

But these two books within books are somehow separate (apart form the specific attempts by Ver Eecke to compare, which are mercifully few)



View all my reviews

He Put the Faith on Him

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 26, 2020 @ 9:20 am

Influence is to hierarchy
In enlisted cover lists
As Ummagumma is to Meddle

And issues of hypostasis
Cognitive
Theological lack

First name terms
Appleblim gas
And coffee percolators

Rodney P
Sherlock, Cereal Killers
St Pauli and Faith

Dollshouse Consumer Ethics
And Schmittian right
To Choose Your Leader

But to take
No other part
(to which you are entitled)

The working class can’t count
The working class mustn’t count

Just a juryist approval
Acceptance as acquiescence

CBT ACT
Id’s as easy
As ABC

Shame sham
Shamer shame

Dunbar 150
Here come’s
The Judge
500 push up
Rude Boy

There’s a
Delay in the Vibe
You’ll Get
The Mugwump later

‘Proley
Art Threat

They were
No Prince
Buster
Now they’re learning
The Words
Obscure
Or Absurdist
But it Never Gets in

They Just
A Butt in

In a word
“You don’t know
The meaning of
The word”

The

Logos
Lefebvre
Farce-aid
Pseudologos

Ipse Dixit
Twats

Pass it on
Theory Henri
Arsenal
Big Stick

Breaks the Rules
Of

No Blacks
No Irish
No French

Isn’t that right, John?

Just cos it ain’t against
The Law
Doesn’t make it
The Law

(Technically it is
Well,
Actually
Well
Illegal)

I fought
The Law
And…

There was no Alternative
(to choice)
All other roads were
(deliberately)
Shut off

Heavy Kettle
Heavy Mettle
Heavy Meddling
Champion Sound
Heavy Loungin’

Big Dada
Big Brother
Big Sistah
Big Kaka
Bwana Baba Mzuri
Baba Yaga

No Knock Knock
You need a warrant

John Wick
Chad Wick
To Kill A
Mocking
(done) Bird
Skin Walker

Market Stalinist
Lives of Others
Cybernetics is an Old Science

The Greek Stasi!

The story of
The Bakhtin Shark
And the
Gombrich Eaves Sham
Droppings

Doggy Dropped it
(When a policeman calls)

Sick Parrot Mimesis
Pass it on
The left hand side,
Dutch chess

(It’s a Wrap)

Got it in for
Out For
Her Golden

The Leader
Of the Anti-Fascists
Hoi Sin
Duck

Make Dem Know
I Bowled Them
All Out Ten Year Ago

But the Pigeons are
Still a-shitting
On the Board
Like They
Are All One

Parrot Doley Arse

And the Cuzoj


Das Ding a 零 Ding
When the Pavlov Bells
Psycho Pomp
Toll Vier Ewe

Fucking Sort it Out!

Alien! Alien!
Schizo Jam
Don

Asmoday!

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on July 13, 2020 @ 11:01 am

Don’t get me wrong,
I don’t mind
Pop-up unions.

It’s those fucking
Flying Panopticons
that really piss me off.

Only you!

Hoisted by his own petard

Filed under:Random notes — posted by Schizostroller on July 11, 2020 @ 3:09 pm

“He hated Lewis Carroll. It was a load of nonsense, and what’s more he spent too much time with that little girl.


Stuff and nonsense! That’s what it was. He hated it so much he had “stuff” tattooed on one set of knuckles on one hand, and “nonsense” on the other. Only thing was, that whilst “stuff” fitted on his knuckles fine, on the other hand there was only room for “nonse-“, the rest of the “-nse” he had tattooed round and down the side of that hand.


His mates tried to point out that he therefore had what amounted to the word “nonce”, at least phonetically, tattooed on one of his knuckles. “Yeah, that’s right”, he said, “I hate nonces like that fucking Lewis Carroll, and this fist is for punching them with”. Unfortunately, a lot of people still thought it meant he was the nonce. So he had to punch a lot of people. And even more unfortunately than that, some of these people were harder than him, and they didn’t like nonces either.”

Trivial Pursuit

Filed under:Random notes — posted by Schizostroller on May 19, 2020 @ 7:56 am

If all five of the senses are perceived through sensual organs, then what we believe we perceive directly ‘with our own eyes’ must obey Newton’s Laws. That physics has discovered relativity and quantum physics is due to the brains conceptual ability. However that the brain makes sense of the other five sensual organs’ perceptions, makes it also a sensual organ. For the brain to interpret the complex impressions the sensual organs perceive it must learn, and this learning comes as much from learned communication from outside, through these sensual organs as it does its own internal workings. That there is a disjunct between these two makes our own experiences our own, but only in a social understanding. As such the phrase ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ should therefore not be misunderstood as a singular, individual interpretation, it allows for difference, but is still some form of social knowledge – mostly via language, but also through emotional interpersonal behaviour . It is for this reason that rather than insisting on homogeneity (which is authoritarian), democracy (although I don’t mean the narrow definition of democracy as ‘only’ voting for representative leaders in a parliament here) is the tool by which we regulate the reality that social difference exists, and needs to exist for us to think at all, and think through our sensual organs’ perceptions healthily with sufficiently free emotions to create in everyday life. This is why Lacan said the relation of the Symbolic to the Real is ignorance (although I will leave it to your imagination why he said the relation of the Imaginary to the Real was hate).

However, back to the phrase ‘Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder’ as social perception, it is for this reason that if the object of your love has only one interest – that is, you who loves he/she/it – it is not necessarily beautiful. Beauty, necessarily is at least trivial. There must be at least two more inputs of interest (even if in modern society, one of these can be a mirror). This is the most basic understanding of the existence of the ‘Other’ in psychoanalysis. Echo lost herself in her pursuit of Narcissus as there was no longer a third interest, once he saw his own reflection. For that we cannot blame her.

Meaningless Statements

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on @ 7:10 am

Actually casting a stone,
Believing one
Is without
Sin

Is akin to
Fighting over a golden
Apple to see who
Is fairest.

One should
Not judge the innocent.
The naive fuckers.

On stepping in puddles

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on May 16, 2020 @ 7:33 am

When I mistakenly
step in a puddle,
I usually don’t mind
the feet wetting aspect.
However…
I tend to be more than slightly
chagrined
when the puddle firstly
kills Tasha Yar,
and then proceeds to
entrap me, insisting
it is the only permitted truth
in all existence


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image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace