Τεφλόν - Τεύχος 3

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6 , : Keston Sutherland - -: Jazra Khaleed, Kyoko Kishida

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CONCEPTUAL POEM ZERO CONCEPTUAL POEM 11

CONCEPTUAL POEM 11

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K E S T O N S U T H E R L A N D

-meta: jazra khaleed, kyoko kishida

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1. keston sutherland, Whats The Ugliest Part of Your Market-Researched Anaclitic Affect Repertoire?, paper addressed to iCe-z (international Conference of esemplastic zappology), 2004.2. Neil Pattison, Lyric Purity In Keston Sutherlands Hot White Andy, hot Gun!, issue #1, 2009.3. Neil Pattison, ..4. keston sutherland, The Trade in Bathos, jacket #15, 2001.5. raoul Vaneigem, , . , , ..


A LOVE SONGas never the day collapses throw instead your face down,fashion a blind the brevity of you may diminish, the USaF drops away and far too much I ravenously vex nothing except you,shook your head and flashes drop or a grated star you had me manic with happiness in us dissevered,from the spit of a longwinded sky and elsewhere its summary flashes also cut a blind down and the trimming scapelarkyou see drops, you alone see, and so do we love together.

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the zeroes count, much more than you thinkyou dont think and say fuck it. So the beaten path like an egg beaten is indistinct, whatparts once defined are, you are nowshuddering under the steel cry fork swept acrossporcelain you eaten, teeth set on edge of zero.

I feel the world there. Which one mangledarab had co-produced but zeroesyou see and maniacs, one or the other has to go,and fire may yet often be more amorous,the parts of its illustration used aptly, we havethe credit to say distinct things (if not

ever to be them). Zeroes also mean jobs.to descry in each passing face the one beaten face,owns no zeroes except ones seen passionately,what could this consciousness rise upto annihilate in fatal and glorious sunlight,by love bound together, the expugnation of all fire.

and by cubicles kept apart, given a free say-soplease leave a message, where did the daysgo wrong we tend to ourselves and zero.the eidetic cutback is moral: a new car in the firstplace is too fast. Secondly we throw youand I ourselves out wildly, drive the night sane.

Where should we go, zeroing in on fire, numbfaced and by that hated fact so brilliantly outshone,so far well, nowhere. there are a fewodd billion zeroes more, or less autonomousmen in Iraqi corpse-oil-and-sand-pit. a zerotolerance state inverted in the arts, that shrinking

crescendo the light renounces I canttouch and wake you up myself flickering inand out with my vague face singing a partnever can be everything, were zero you the onebeaten face perfectly one part onesky returned fireless anything more than

one death for everyone, finally youmight end, and our requiems then starts reversinglovely and the hope wont also end, I never shall.a stupid gun laughs in a womans facefire contorts her, it is a way of letting hope be justsomeday and its cold light stacked up in zeroes.

ZEROES GALORE


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CUt tO LENGtH REQUIRED

Less excluded through that sparkin you could I thrill mustI keeping on breathe ice out in darkenedhabit perpetuate the waste of lustyour life shines, also incomparabledrop to smashed me in the knees,pushed you up againstwanted the money to get high onglue or free, I now for love famishedwill breathe even flattery likethe air loved sex confiscates. Do youcan you catch wind of this, inthis are you lived about likewisestopped, will you make itup to yourself through squeeze out me from your life and again trustingyour life again lustful, and inthat trust fly from less excess, to a qualifiedcock give your tongue gently and in turn are loved gently undefiedby now the resist switch, the remotelist of what this life is pinnedto the wind broken down and leaking into my throat like a stilt. Do you firstcraze for detachable. It starts out youfirst then Palestine caressed shoutsand gone in the head, then againPalestine, then the touch of you resulted.

tHEY OFFER YOU SWEEtS Sun sinks off the coast of Portsmouth. Local bus schedules collapse. It is okaydealing a little smack, the petty cash echoes through in beatenup parkways, like your friend calls you up, float a while. No personshould beaten and bleeding cry out, leave me alone, I am too young,the light cast on that is impoverished. Smoke is a way of life riseswishy-washy to zeroes overhead, runs out from his flat terrifiedchildishly that fire could shred it and his visible face, do not wish to hurt himalone you drag misery out, instead cut back free their rages blindthem to fire always. and so make the shore too incessant, no edgy sea, butalone the slope low shoved pushed down to a dark base, insolublegarnish of dark sand underneath where vision must be defunct.It is the financial cowardice of a democratic government, turns them over, fucks them.


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few arid between rain slits open called a blank thereonset her foot Paris was usual so between hot rain by windcarrier and a dozen hostages fried whereverthere was fierce debate, wailing back she tore inhalf a mind at me wherewind quits this quits, later we set back to love and I drewit with us, over a bridge and flew past the lobby tobed and rode me softly as I would your willing earmight crave a new world static, new breakdown,newer blackout


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turn your head against a face spoiling, despoil adequately sleet and trashes of light may claim you fast broke the star down,rubble of brightness about you, faces about you too, as they break affinityshines, it is your own fire too is your own everywherethey are you solicit broad day, entire scission and echoedsilence changes hands

into icons. What passes forweeks between them wrecks you, Bolivia. Shines in the mindcrispy, a shiver of faces throws upon you shadow, bright urban latticeadrift among glances like drapery, can you go on fire says. there is no adequate

remorse or adequate reason why there is none. Cocaine in the broken home countiesthe pulp of a shredded map left out in the rain you slowdown quick you

takes you for dinner. What are you.Is this brightness yours, the solicited star breakdown also a wet easy glance proliferates,were an atomic arc that overt yet shaped immenselyto the earth as demo fidgets and small fry, would you trust me says face to face,switch the light on chop up the liquorice and peanuts, we belong together.to whom. as now, across the celestial equator, Venus breaks, the resolve andyou are bound, to recast down a faultless star.

AtONEMENt


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DO YOU BLOSSOM

as the chosen form of panic carcrash to my rear frozenout by words too beautiful to spotare you alone, take off yourchance to wheel throughclouds in unvanishing havoc upthe street in the love people too no end alonechancing apart themand far lived you fetch for the last time anothernight positioned over the lilacand nothing and bakeyou shift out of the wrong windowpellet to a drop end life each strapping day butand the ice is gluey soand the volcano rain is gateauxfar to the way differentlyseceded can you taste howaftertastes vanish outsidethe rainin fact chooses to hit rockbottom on the list of uses the break as mere toyishshift to go being on withand the people to the lefthand side of their own faces bleedhelpfully and ponderousash like a whisper steersimmediately the correct heat in youthrough no hoop, I love you.


StRESS POSItION III: tHE ANSWERThink but this, and all is mended

I start with the superimposition of a gimmick on the Nasdaq HQ panicbolts screwed in the fire door: pathema vrit, then stop? Yes. the first metaphor shines at internal communication.a flickering eyelid says I am a concession to invisibility. Stress Position: the irreversibility canto. the foot is locked in,the riveting other cheek is detained in the gastrointestinal tract: we the taxpayers are supposed to think were healthier because of this? You cant put teeth-marks in a quasi-shin. Unidentified butterfliesfall on the motorway screaming by like anorexic dogs on tendons, alligator clips on latoctose, like an easy life on hard drugsthey fuck with your head and make voting look like knees on a shattered mirror but so what, who gives a fuck about butterflies? What about whitebait?Priced into the market, waving your backstage pass about, you are the honourable inimitable general anti-thrust plate. What goes on in your head? Or up but wont come down? Iwalk into that bathroom a man and come out a black pyramid, reeking of extorted black spunk, Cheney and Rumsfeld Inc.trinken und trinken. Why put it any more discriminatingly than that? Fuck the old linguistically enervative strippogrammatologyand its catcalls at authenticity and at inauthenticity: either you put up or shut up shop or you drop the musical talking shit. Because the first metaphor is the deepest. Here it simply is.But there is something deeper yet: You Porn calliopisthenics up above it figures out the fitness regime change,and in a flash the simplicity of the first word is proxy to the last, and we can all break for early brunch, at last. You who areis irrelevant or not irrelevant. No-one has to love it because no-one has to love at all, least of all anyone. La guerre a donc perdu son charme, comme son utilit.But the rules changed. Cosmeceutical disambiguation is death to stubborn expression lines, to unwanted pigmentationthe peel and the anti-oxidants are their ruination and scourge, CaGe/NCaGe #: 31FP1 for tender submissions.Coming in I saw you back. Unturning, unable to cling to Philomel high on fire who dumps her empty shells in the nest.

She acts up like an emasculated emu. You will not screwthe sky back on to the bereft dorsal fin in the dream of falling: eHC gives KBR the FeeD contract; the KBRCeO at last gets shot of the Nigeria migraine; vivendum est illic, ubi nulla; tSKJ teams up with NLNG on the gas chilling; Nachfolge replaces ersatz; 10 million man hours without a lost time incident. the mass of the people heard its iron tramp. But why go onthe show in the first place if you're so bothered by the invasion of privacy? too good for an obsure life? enjambment mitigatessegregation, which mitigates the final fantasy of universal niecehood already sabotaged faute de mieux to a retrovirus.Why grope after a more westerly set than that? If you listen forever enough only to nothing you might never hear it. Quotations are used to kickstart the stanzas. then logic.the mouthfeel of democracy, 2003: the foot on the far left pedal accelerates the coda, hurricane on a wet black.Lucas: what the fuck do you see in publicity imagism like that for? akinfemiwa: all the better to ignore you withhadjavatis vaticilectrix vs. Barbie arbitration the apparition of a frozen heart grasped in fish fingers. Nine days in, and as yet the diary hasn't got my mask off.the natives are getting derivative. Nothing escapes them. they adjust to it, as circles adjust to reform into the majorarc in a minor key. Sentences become shorter, get a commuted tone. Back of the wainscot of the friable oceanpure thoughts on Fuzzy Felts. I want to get to a point where I don't have to go through all this again from the beginning when I die. that moment during a joke when you're pretending to be seriousand silent before bursting out in preemptive laughter. It's a social life. Get one. But the passion is downsized into amidget rivet for epigrams: to err is human, to forgive beyond the reach of art. the echoing clock, the thunder and rainbeating the window, the howling wind, and, creepiest of all, the sound of steps coming slowly up the creaking stairs.

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- Nasdaq : pathema vrit, ; . . . : . , : ; - . , , , , ; ; , , . ; ; , , Cheney rumsfeld a.e.trinken und trinken. ; : .


. . : you Porn , , , . . , . la guerre a donc perdu son charme, comme son utilit. . , , / #: 31FP1 . . , . . : ehC kBr Feed. kBr . vivendum est illic, ubi nulla. Tskj NlNG . Nachfolge Ersatz. 10 . . ; ; , faute de mieux . ; . . . , 2003: , .lucas: ; akinfemiwa: Barbie . . . . , . , . . . . . . : , . , , , , , .

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: Y I N D J I B A R N D I

: SHON ARIEH-LERER : SHON ARIEH-LERER, , JAZRA KHALEED

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- Yindjibarndi. - Toby

Wiliguru Pambardu - thabi ( /) . Pambardu , Yindjibarndi - , . - . - , , Yindjibarndi .

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. , Djanggawul Kunapipi Mudrooroo , Arnhem . Djanguwul - . Pambardu, , , Yindjibarndi. Yindjibarndi: , . - Pambardu Yindjibarndi - , , . , - Pambardu, - Yindjibarndi.

Yindjibarndi, , Ngurranyujunggamu ( -), Pilbara,

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24 H YINDJIBARNDI t

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Pambardu , . - , Lorraine Coppin, Juluwarlu. : , . : , . : .

Yindjibarndi , Pilbara .

SHON ARIEH-LERER

Yindjibarndi - Pilbara ( ). , -

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Yindjibarndi Pama-Nyungan . , -. 50 , - , C. G. von Brandenstein, . - von Brandenstein 60. Yindjibarndi.

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& JAZRA KHALEED

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TOBY WILIGURU PAMBARDU

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TOBY WILIGURU PAMBARDU

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PADDY LANDO-NADDI

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KUNANGU1SLIPPERY

jirili!

Kanbanparna2

Tharrgarri3

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1. kunangu: ) ) kunangu .

2. Kanbanparna: Abydos Station. Yind-jibarndi .

3. Tharrgarri: Mantharta.

SMILER NARNUTJARRI

, , murdinarra1 , , Parraruru!

1. murdinarra:

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COBBIN DALE

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His beard was as white as snow ,All flaxen was his poll, , He is gone, he is gone, , , And we cast away moan, ,God ha mercy on his soul! , !5

shakespeare, hamlet

I sell the best brandy and sherry To make good customers merry; But at times their finances, Run short, as it chances,And I feel very sad, very. john o tumy

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As a little fat man of BombayWas smoking one very hot day, A bird called a snipe Flew away with his pipe,Which vexd the fat man of Bombay.

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There was an Old Woman named Towl,Who went out to Sea with her Owl, But the Owl was Sea-sick, And screamed for Physic;Which sadly annoyd Mistress Towl.

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8. .. Hickory, dickory ,dock./The mouse ran up the clock;/The clock struck one,/The mouse ran down,/Hickory, dickory, dock. Feedum, fiddledum,dee,/The cats got into the tree./Pussy,come down/Or Ill crack your crown,/And toss you into the sea.

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That the Traylees the best cigarette,Is a tip that we cannot forget. And in buying, Ill mention Theres a three pound a week pension;

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It doesnt matter how manyits who ... .

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There was a Young Lady of Norway Who casually sat in a doorway; When the door squeezed her flat, She exclaimed What of that?This courageous Young Lady of Norway. ed. lear

There was a young man of Cape HornWho wished he had never been born. So he sat on a chair And died of despairThat dolorous man of Cape Horn. ed. lear

There was an Old Man of DundeeWho frequented the top of a tree; When disturbed by the crows

He abruptly aroseAnd exclaimed Ill return to Dundee. ed. lear

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There was a young lady of Norway Who hung by her toes in a doorway. She said to her beau: Just look at me, Joe,I think Ive discovered one more way a.c swinburne

here was a young man of Cape Horn Who wished he had never been born; And he wouldnt have been If his father had seen That the end of the rubber was torn. a.c swinburne

here was a young man of Cape Horn Who molested an ape in a tree; The result was most horrid, All arse and no forehead, Three balls and a purple goatee. a.c swinburne

: William S. Baring-Gould, The Lure of The Limerick: An Uninhibited Story, London, The Panther Book, 1968.Cyril Bibby, The Art of the Limerick, London, The Research Publishing Co, 1978.Gershon Legman, The Limerick Book:1700 Examples, with Notes, Variants and Index London, Jupiter Books, 1974.

Linda Marsh, The Book of Limericks, London, Wordsworth, 1997.Edward Lear, The Complete Verse and Other Nonsense. Ed. V. Noakes, London, Penguin, 2001.Langford Reed, The Complete Limerick Book: the Origin, History and Achievements of the Limerick, with about 350 Selected Examples. London, Jarrolds,1924.

, Edward Lear , , .3 http://www.rhodes.aegean.gr/ptde/revmata/issue-3.html, 2008.

Edward Lear, -. -, , .& . , . , 2007.

, Limerick: H , ..., 2007.

40 t

There was an old person of Deal, Who in walking used only his heel; When they said tell us why, He made no reply; That mysterious old person of Deal.

There was an old man of the Coast,Who placidly sat on a post; But when it was cold, He relinquished his hold, And called for some hot buttered toast.

There was an ld person of Chili, Whose conduct was painful and silly; He sate on the stairs, Eating apples and pears,That imprudent old person of Chili.

There was an old man of El Hums,Who lived upon nothing but crumbs; Which he picked off the ground, With the other birds round, In the roads and the lanes of El Hums.

There was an old man who said HowShall I flee from that horrible cow? I will sit on this stile, And continue to smile,Which may soften the heart of the cow.

There was an old lady of Prague,Whose language was horribly vague; When they said Are these caps? She answered Perhaps! That oracular lady of Prague. There was an old person of Loo,Who said what on earth shall I do? When they said go away! She continued to stay,That vexatious old person of Loo.

There was an old lady of France,Who taught little ducklings to dance; When she said tick-a-tack! They only said QuackWhich grieved that old Lady of France.

There was an old person of Cromer,Who stood on one leg to read Homer; When he found he grew stiff, He jumped over the cliff,Which concluded that person of Cromer.

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49 49t

LA MOSCA

Te tender que matar de Nuevo.Te mate tantas veces, en Casablanca, en Lima,en Christiana,en Montparnasse, en una estancia del partido de Lobos,en el burdel, en la cocina, sobre un peine,en la oficina, en esta almohadate tendr que matar de Nuevo,yo, con mi nica vida.

. , , , , , , , , , , ,, .

, , . : .

: , , , , . , : .

, .

PRELUDIO A UN tEXtO EN PROSA

Debe venir de alguna parte que no es partede ninguna,del cuarto lado de ese tringulo que formanlas dos cervezas y la chica rubia,en este pub de Chelsea. Simplemente:queremos tanto a Glenda.

Las papas fritas huelen a pescadoy el pescado no huele: esquives ysustituciones, estas lneasy el barman pelirrojo y los Pink Floyd,cada cosa desplaza lo vecino, lo empujaa pilirse y brillar como el nio que brota de mujer.Pero no hay como, aqu: las cosasson lo que son porque son otras.

Slo s que respiro,y que queremos tanto a Glenda.

t 50 JULIO CORTZAR

LAS BUENAS CONCIENCIAS

Sos as: inteligente, clara, refinada,vivs en armona con las gentes, las cosas y las plantasque has elegido despaciosamente,rechazando sin ruido lo que quebraba el ritmo diurno,la calma de tus noches.Eso no significa que ignores este caos,este fragor de sangre que llaman siglo veinte.Al contrario, segus muy de cercacosas como el racismo, el apartheid y las transnacionales,le sangre en Argentina y Chile y Paraguay y etctera.Cada tarde a las seis comprs Le Mondey te indigns sinceramenteporque todo es violencia, violacin y mentiraen Dubln en Beirut en Santiago en Bangkok.Y despus cuando vienen Paulita y Juan y Pepeles explics con t y tostadas que esto sea as, y la mesase llena de protestas democrticas,de migas humansticas y Derechos Humanos (cf. Unesco). Todos estn de acuerdo, y todos sientenque estn del justo lado, que hay que aplastar a Pinochet,pero curiosamenteni ellos ni vos han hecho nunca nadapara ayudar (digamos, dieron plata, se solidarizaronalgunos con las campaas periodsticas),porque les lleva lo mejor del tiempoaplastar al fascismo con perfectas razones silogsticasy sentimientos impecables.Es evidente que leer Le Mondees ya un combate frente a los que leen el Figaro.Lo importante es saber dnde est la verdady repetirlo y repertilo cada daa los mismos amigos en el mismo caf.Casi una militancia o poco menos,casi un peligro porque en una de saste oye un fascista y ah noms te fichan.Oh, querida, ya es tarde,and a dormir pero antes, claro,las ltimas noticias. Matarona Orlando Letelier. Qu horror, verdad.Esto no puede ser, esta violenciatiene que terminar.(Suena el telfono, es Paulitaque acaba de enterarse.)Da gusto vercmo vos y tu gente participande la historia.Vas a dormir tan mal, verdad, mejor quedarse oyendo

msicahasta que venga el sueo de los justos.

.

, , . .

, .

LA CIUDAD

El ro baja por las costascon su alternada indiferenciay la ciudad lo consideracomo una perra perezosa.

Ni amor, ni espera, ni el combatedel nadador contra la nada.Con languidez de cortesanamira a su ro Buenos Aires.

El tiempo es ese gris compadrepitando all sin hacer nada.

t 50 JULIO CORTZAR

LAS BUENAS CONCIENCIAS

Sos as: inteligente, clara, refinada,vivs en armona con las gentes, las cosas y las plantasque has elegido despaciosamente,rechazando sin ruido lo que quebraba el ritmo diurno,la calma de tus noches.Eso no significa que ignores este caos,este fragor de sangre que llaman siglo veinte.Al contrario, segus muy de cercacosas como el racismo, el apartheid y las transnacionales,le sangre en Argentina y Chile y Paraguay y etctera.Cada tarde a las seis comprs Le Mondey te indigns sinceramenteporque todo es violencia, violacin y mentiraen Dubln en Beirut en Santiago en Bangkok.Y despus cuando vienen Paulita y Juan y Pepeles explics con t y tostadas que esto sea as, y la mesase llena de protestas democrticas,de migas humansticas y Derechos Humanos (cf. Unesco). Todos estn de acuerdo, y todos sientenque estn del justo lado, que hay que aplastar a Pinochet,pero curiosamenteni ellos ni vos han hecho nunca nadapara ayudar (digamos, dieron plata, se solidarizaronalgunos con las campaas periodsticas),porque les lleva lo mejor del tiempoaplastar al fascismo con perfectas razones silogsticasy sentimientos impecables.Es evidente que leer Le Mondees ya un combate frente a los que leen el Figaro.Lo importante es saber dnde est la verdady repetirlo y repertilo cada daa los mismos amigos en el mismo caf.Casi una militancia o poco menos,casi un peligro porque en una de saste oye un fascista y ah noms te fichan.Oh, querida, ya es tarde,and a dormir pero antes, claro,las ltimas noticias. Matarona Orlando Letelier. Qu horror, verdad.Esto no puede ser, esta violenciatiene que terminar.(Suena el telfono, es Paulitaque acaba de enterarse.)Da gusto vercmo vos y tu gente participande la historia.Vas a dormir tan mal, verdad, mejor quedarse oyendo

msicahasta que venga el sueo de los justos.

.

, , . .

, .

LA CIUDAD

El ro baja por las costascon su alternada indiferenciay la ciudad lo consideracomo una perra perezosa.

Ni amor, ni espera, ni el combatedel nadador contra la nada.Con languidez de cortesanamira a su ro Buenos Aires.

El tiempo es ese gris compadrepitando all sin hacer nada.

51t JULIO CORTZAR 51

: , , , , -, , , . , ., , , , . Le Monde , . , (. ). , , , ( , ), . Le Monde Figaro. , . , - ., , , , , . . , . , .( . .) ., , .

t 52 JULIO CORTZAR

- - - - - - - .

SEQUENCIAS

Dej de leer el relato en el punto donde un personaje dejaba de leer el relato en el lugar donde un personaje dejaba de leer y se encaminaba a la casa donde alguien que lo esperaba se haba puesto a leer un relato para matar el tiempo y llegaba al lugar donde un personaje dejaba de leer y se encaminaba a la casa donde alguien que lo esperaba se haba puesto a leer un relato para matar el tiempo.

BLUES FOR MAGGIE

Ya ves,y yo sigo pensado en ti.Cancin de Pablo Milans

Ya ves

nada es serio ni digno de que se tome en cuenta,nos hicimos jugando todo el mal necesario

ya ves, no es una carta esto,

nos dimos esa miel de la noche, los bares,el placer boca abajo, los cigarillos turbioscuando en el cielo raso tiembla la luz del alba,

ya ves,y yo sigo pensado en ti,

no te escribo, de pronto miro el cielo, esa nube que pasay t quizs all en tu malecn mirars una nubey eso es mi carta, algo que corre indescifrable y alluvia.

Nos hicimos jugando todo el mal necesario,el tiempo pone el resto, los oseznosduermen junto a una ardilla deshojada.

BLUES FOR MAGGIE

, . Pablo Milans

, ,

, ,

, , , , ,

, ,

, , , , .

, , .

t 52 JULIO CORTZAR

- - - - - - - .

SEQUENCIAS

Dej de leer el relato en el punto donde un personaje dejaba de leer el relato en el lugar donde un personaje dejaba de leer y se encaminaba a la casa donde alguien que lo esperaba se haba puesto a leer un relato para matar el tiempo y llegaba al lugar donde un personaje dejaba de leer y se encaminaba a la casa donde alguien que lo esperaba se haba puesto a leer un relato para matar el tiempo.

BLUES FOR MAGGIE

Ya ves,y yo sigo pensado en ti.Cancin de Pablo Milans

Ya ves

nada es serio ni digno de que se tome en cuenta,nos hicimos jugando todo el mal necesario

ya ves, no es una carta esto,

nos dimos esa miel de la noche, los bares,el placer boca abajo, los cigarillos turbioscuando en el cielo raso tiembla la luz del alba,

ya ves,y yo sigo pensado en ti,

no te escribo, de pronto miro el cielo, esa nube que pasay t quizs all en tu malecn mirars una nubey eso es mi carta, algo que corre indescifrable y alluvia.

Nos hicimos jugando todo el mal necesario,el tiempo pone el resto, los oseznosduermen junto a una ardilla deshojada.

BLUES FOR MAGGIE

, . Pablo Milans

, ,

, ,

, , , , ,

, ,

, , , , .

, , .

53 53t

BLUES FOR MAGGIE

, . Pablo Milans

, ,

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54 t

.

55 55t

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iii

iv

vi

56 NOT I t

vii

ix

57 57t

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58 t

. .Flowjob,

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to

: jazra khaleed, ishida

m :

: T jazra khaleed kai kYOkO kishida

59 59t

- 70 ... : djs, MCs, breakdancing b-boys/b-girls . Tricia rose, - .

70, - . , , - , - , , 60. , , .

, : - , , , ... . . , , , , , , - , . . , .

. griot djali, - , , . , , . MC griot ( , - , ) , griot , , , MC , .

, -, , , , , , , o - , . , - last Poets Gil scott-heron, spoken word slam. ,

60 t

- . soundsystems, - djs, toasting, dj .

, kool herc, - 70. djs soundsystem , beats. , , djs - () . . performance , dj MC (Master of Ceremony Microphone Controller), , , .

dj-. - , . MC, . , , , , , , MC , flow.

- -, , , - -, flow - beat . , beat MC 4/4 beat . , beat, , flow - , .

( ) - - - . () -. , , , , , beat, .

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. . ,

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e . . ; . .txc,

61 61t

. , - () () .

. - , . , . - , - .

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, . . : . . . , , , .ffc,

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.anser,

. . o! . . , . ; . ! , , . .txc, ,

. , , active member,

beats, hip hop in streets. ,

,

, funky . ,

, . . , , . Nivo . .flowjob,

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, . ,

. , .,

low budget flowjob,

. . !txc,

62 t

. , -, . , , , . , , , , - .

, - , - . , , . -. , MC- , - .

. . , ,

. .anser,

. MCs . . MCs . . ,

, . . , . , ., , , . , .active member,

, , . , . , , . : . . ! ; ; ! . ! . ! . ! .,

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, freestyle . MC ; ; . , , , . , ., mp3

. V. , , , . . , , . ; . , . , y

, . , .active member, , ;

63 63t

battle ( MCs), , , cypher (

), , : , - , , skills () performance . , , / , , : .. , , , - / (dozens) . , - , , .

, , - , - . , , - . . : .

. , txc,

:adam Bradley, Book of Rhymes: The Poetics of Hip Hop,

BasicCivitas, 2009.Tricia rose, Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in

Contemporary America, Wesleyan University Press, 1994.William eric Perkins, Droppin Science: Critical Essays on Rap

Music and Hip Hop Culture, Temple University Press, 1996.William e. smith, Hip Hop as Performance and Ritual, Cls

Publications, 2005.

russel a. Potter, Spectacular Vernaculars: Hip Hop and the Politics of Postmodernism, state University of New York, 1995.

imany Perry, Prophets of the Hood: Politics and Poetics in Hip Hop, duke University Press, 2004.

henry louis Gates, The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literary Criticism, Oxford University Press, 1988.

. , eric B. & rakim, i know You Got soul

: . Nas , . Mos def / / dVd. rakim: .

. , . MC , , , . , - . . - , . , .

RAP POETRY 101TOY adaM BradleY

64 t

. ,

. , -: , . , : . , .

. . , , , . , . , - . adrian Mitchell, , .

. : , - , . , . , - . , , - .

- , . - , . , , - . , , . . . MCs rakim, o jay-z, o Tupac, . - .

. Bronx . , , - , . Cant Stop Wont Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation, jeff Chang 70 80 . -, , . krs-ONe, Bronx, - .

. , . -. , William shakespeare emily dickinson, sonia sanchez amiri Baraka,

65 65t

. - . , , . , , , .

, . spoken word slam , . , beat.

beat . MC , . beat , - MC, : .

, (- ) ( ). , irvin Berlin, o john lennon stevie Wonder, . , MCs beat. MCs . , . , - .

, . - kanye West . - , . MCs . , - . - .

- . - , simon Frith, - . , , , . . , . - . , .

. . -, ,

66 t

. . -

: . - o , . , , Walter Pater, . - . edward hirsch, - - , .

, , . -. adventures of super rhymes (rap) 1980, , jimmy spicer :

- . MC , - -. , , - , -. MC , . performance.

, Cole Porter lorenz hart - . , . MCs . Porter i Got You Under My skin - . , . , , . .

-, . beat. beat - , MC. - beat, .

beats 4/4, - beats . , beat . , beat MC. , , MC

Its the new thing, makes you wanna swingWhile us MCs rap, doin our thingIts not singin like it used to beNo, its rappin to the rhythm of the sure-shot beatIt goes one for the money, two for the showYou got my beat, now here I go

, , MCs , beat , ,

66 t

. . -

: . - o , . , , Walter Pater, . - . edward hirsch, - - , .

, , . -. adventures of super rhymes (rap) 1980, , jimmy spicer :

- . MC , - -. , , - , -. MC , . performance.

, Cole Porter lorenz hart - . , . MCs . Porter i Got You Under My skin - . , . , , . .

-, . beat. beat - , MC. - beat, .

beats 4/4, - beats . , beat . , beat MC. , , MC

Its the new thing, makes you wanna swingWhile us MCs rap, doin our thingIts not singin like it used to beNo, its rappin to the rhythm of the sure-shot beatIt goes one for the money, two for the showYou got my beat, now here I go

, , MCs , beat , ,

67 67t

. , MC , .

, - : Melle Mel - The Message Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.

(standing, front, hangin, window, .) beats. beat . beat. - beat .

, , - . - :

, . - (everywhere care). beat, ; performance. Melle Mel . beat, ( ) glass everywhere, everywhere. , .

, - . -, , . - , , , .

- . . : sylvesters dying Bed langston hughes, 1931. 6 N the Mornin, iCe-T, 1987. , - .

hughes - beat. , , - iCe-T. hughes . -, . beat ( beat ) . , (- ) , , . , . , - , .

, , MCs , beat , ,

1 2 3 4Standing on the front stoop, hangin out the window,watching all the cars go by, roaring as the breezes blow.

, , , .

1 2 3 4Broken glass everywhere,people pissin on the stairs, you know they just dont care.

, , .

68 t

, - . , : . , - , -. , , . , . , - .

Walt Whitman . , - . .

- - freestyle . freestyle . k cyphers: - ,

. freestyle, , . , freestyles - . , , , . , , - freestyle, : , , - freestyle, cyphers. , - , , . , freestylers -

I woke up this mornin Six in the morninBout half past three. Police at my door.All the womens in town Fresh Adidas squeakWas gathered around me. Across my bathroom floor.Sweet gals was a-moanin, Out my back window,Sylvesters gonna die! I made my escape.And a hundred pretty mamas Dont even get a chanceBowed their heads to cry. To grab my old school tape

. . adidas ! . . .

FREESTYLE zOe sUTherlaNd

Book of Rhymes: The Poetics of Hip Hop, Civitas, 2009.

69 69t

. , underground . , 80.

, - , , . : beats . - , - , , . , , , , , . , , , . - , , . , , beats .

freestyle, , , performance. - freestyle . , freestyle , , . - beatboxer. , freestyler : - , . , freestyler , - . , , , , , , . , , , - , . - (coming off the dome) .

beatbox, o freestyler -, , beats. beatbox, , , beat - , . , beatboxer beats ad libitum - . , beatbox , , - . , freestyler beatboxer

Book of Rhymes: The Poetics of Hip Hop, Civitas, 2009.

70 t

, - beatboxer. beats , , . freestyle, beatbox, , , -, - , . freestyler - , .

freestyle . Gift of Gab Blackalicious freestyle - cypher , . - freestylers , . freestyle , . , freestyle ex nihilo, , , , . . , freestyle, o . , , , . freestyler supernatural - - , . , . , - freestyle. , freestyler cypher . -, freestyle .

, freestyle , , performance, , . freestyler - performance , , , . , - . freestyle, freestyler , , , . , freestyler - . , - .

71 71t

, freestyler .

, freestyle, , , - , , , . freestyle , - , . freestyle . freestyler . , freestyle , , . , , - performance.

freestyler freestyle. O eminem , yo, yo, yo, yo, , yo, shady, . . , freestyler, . Mos def freestyle , . , - , -. , -. supernatural , , . - . freestyler . . , freestyler , . , . , freestyle, - - freestyle.

. . , . - , . , - The roots, ?questlove, , Black Thought freestyle . , Black Thought ; , , , . supernatural : . -, :

72 t

, , . , , .

. - , . , , , hey Mr dj, MCs 70 80. -, , , , . freestyle . , supernatural : freestyler , , . , - - . , . , , - .

cypher: freestyle, freestyle. , , - - . , - freestyle, cypher. , learthen dorsey , , - . . , . cypher. Cypher , performance, freestyle. -, , . , Greenwich Village cyphers 90. , cyphers - . , .

abioden Oyewole last Poets cyphers . , -, , . cypher, , , .

72 t

, , . , , .

. - , . , , , hey Mr dj, MCs 70 80. -, , , , . freestyle . , supernatural : freestyler , , . , - - . , . , , - .

cypher: freestyle, freestyle. , , - - . , - freestyle, cypher. , learthen dorsey , , - . . , . cypher. Cypher , performance, freestyle. -, , . , Greenwich Village cyphers 90. , cyphers - . , .

abioden Oyewole last Poets cyphers . , -, , . cypher, , , .

73 73t

, freestyler, cypher , , , , - . , freestyler , , , . Oyewole, -. , -, , . , freestyler .

cypher , beats beatbox, - beat, , . , . , , . , . , freestyler , - cypher. , , , . freestyler , cypher.

, , cypher. O . , . cypher , - , . () cypher freestyle. , , . - : o freestyler , , .

cyphers, , - , . , , , - . , , cypher, - .

: zoe sutherland, The expressive Potentialities of the Freestyle, Naked Punch Review: Hip Hop Dossier, 2009.

74 t

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A NN C O T T E N

: JAZRA KHALEED

: , JAZRA KHALEED,

KYOKO KISHIDA

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* The Shape of the Eye Was Fr Neugierige Tiere, Ann Cotten Fremdwrter-buchsonette.

tHE SHAPE OF tHE EYE AND tHE COWARDICE

Sprung durch den Styx, ein Vorhangaus Quecksilber, ein Vorschu, ein Frhstck.Du machst die Augen zu und durchstt die Wasseroberflche.Nun bist du in einer anderen Welt. Wie Worte, merkst du, sie bezeichnen auch hier untenVerhltnisse, Rume und Steine, alles veralgt, verlangt,verargt nichts, und das Wort Fische kommt hier zu sich, zu dir blo, wie du weit. Das bitterErinnern, wie trocken das Land und wie drftig deine Begriffedoch du darfst sprechen hier, machst liebliche Luftblschen.Aug in Aug mit Alge am Horizont des Nass, nah,jemand hat ohne dein Wissen deine Haare zurckgestrichen.Die Blsshhner wirken klug wie Dirigenten.Jemand zeigt deiner Haut, wo es beginnt. Sich aufzulsenist diese Haut sofort bereit. Trag sie davon in absehbarer Zeit.Davor aber tauch noch mal unter, und schiebe dieWimpern hoch, rei die Augen auf. Du siehst, du siehst,was du Welt oder Umwelt zu nennen in Luftblasen scheiterst.

tHE SHAPE OF tHE EYE AND tHE COWARDICE

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BEGRIFF

Darf ich den Sommertag mit dir vergleichen?Er geht zu Ende whrend mein Sonett beginnt.Sonett beginnend whrend Tag verrinnt,darf ich den Sommertag mit dir vergleichen?

Die Angst, es knne gilben und verbleichendas Blatt, auf dem das Gold zu Blau gerinnt,vergeht, wenn dein Profil Kontur gewinnt,dir Wrter hneln, Ebenbilder gleichen.

Zum Ersten ist jetzt vorerst Mai,so ungetrbt gefiltert deine Strahlkraftwie eine Sonne, der man noch nicht mde ist.

Zum Zweiten ist dein Haar wie Flachs, und istdein Mund wie Wolken, durch die Sonne kraft-und friedestrotzend bricht, als ob es Sommer sei.

Und strahlend da wie Mittag ist dein Leib,quadratisch wie ingenis vermessen,gestochen wie aus Gotteslsterung dein Auge.

Wahr und prsent, solange ich hier bleib,und breit und warm, wie ich dabei gesessen,schreib ich dich, whrend ich auf Wolken schaue.

Solange ich vetraue, sind die Tage hier,Verlangen ich implementier, verbaue Schweigen.An Orten fehlts dir nicht, mir nicht an Wegen,die Stellen deiner Haut zu stillen auf Papier.

Und solltest du ver- oder auch nur gehen,dank dieser Eselsbrcke wei ich, wie du bist.Knftige Generationen werden dich in etwa sehenund ich werd immer wissen, wie ein Sommertag ist.

82 ANN COTTEN t

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BEGRIFF

Darf ich den Sommertag mit dir vergleichen?Er geht zu Ende whrend mein Sonett beginnt.Sonett beginnend whrend Tag verrinnt,darf ich den Sommertag mit dir vergleichen?

Die Angst, es knne gilben und verbleichendas Blatt, auf dem das Gold zu Blau gerinnt,vergeht, wenn dein Profil Kontur gewinnt,dir Wrter hneln, Ebenbilder gleichen.

Zum Ersten ist jetzt vorerst Mai,so ungetrbt gefiltert deine Strahlkraftwie eine Sonne, der man noch nicht mde ist.

Zum Zweiten ist dein Haar wie Flachs, und istdein Mund wie Wolken, durch die Sonne kraft-und friedestrotzend bricht, als ob es Sommer sei.

Und strahlend da wie Mittag ist dein Leib,quadratisch wie ingenis vermessen,gestochen wie aus Gotteslsterung dein Auge.

Wahr und prsent, solange ich hier bleib,und breit und warm, wie ich dabei gesessen,schreib ich dich, whrend ich auf Wolken schaue.

Solange ich vetraue, sind die Tage hier,Verlangen ich implementier, verbaue Schweigen.An Orten fehlts dir nicht, mir nicht an Wegen,die Stellen deiner Haut zu stillen auf Papier.

Und solltest du ver- oder auch nur gehen,dank dieser Eselsbrcke wei ich, wie du bist.Knftige Generationen werden dich in etwa sehenund ich werd immer wissen, wie ein Sommertag ist.

83 ANN COTTEN 83t

DIE NEMAtODE MIt DEM StILEtt

Wie auf dem Rcken am Substrat zu liegen istwie auf dem Bauch zu liegen, wenn zylindrisch

khlder Krper einen schlngelt durch den Mist,den andere essen, ausdrcken und rhren ins

Gewhl.

Wer reglos ist, muss tot sein. Fr Statistikenfehlt uns der Blick von oben. Ja, ein Schlachtfeld

ists,ne Orgie von dort, mit schnen Risiken,doch wirkts von hier normal. Ja, einfach ists,

an Oberflchen phnotypisch sich zu illustrieren.An Oberflchen palimpsestisch den Faden

verlierenund nur mehr Wurm sein. Stumm sein.Klar, elegant und krumm sein.Unmdig, weich und dumm sein,um fernen Wissenschaftlern das Substrat zu

zieren.

Sag, liebe Nematode, du, dein Ding da,das du in die Gonaden der Kollegen steckst, ja,man knnte es ja nennen dein Gemcht,Trger eindeutiger Genetik, dein Geschlecht,

doch aufgreifend dich damals nannte ichs Stilett.Nicht ganz treffsicher, auch nicht ganz daneben,fr Dichtende, die solche Sachen mgen, ziem-

lich nett,um mit khn gegriffelten Metaphern anzugeben.

Doch dein Stilett, du blindes Tier, rhrt nicht die klaren Gene,

an deiner Spikula kippen die Proben, oh, komplett.

Und whrend Wissenschaftler, blinde, unbekan-nte, schne,

erleben Laken kichernd nchtens schlngelnd als Substrat,

blickt ihr am Morgen wieder stumm von unten in Pipetten,

ich mach Sonette ber Oberflchen fremder Betten.

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84 ANN COTTEN t

AN INDUKtION tO tHE BLUES

Its a very attractive little device that combines a frequency follower with a device that puts out harmony notes to what youre playing Its main drawback is that the tone that comes out of it is somewhat like a Farfisa organ.

Frank Zappa on the Electro Wagnerian Emancipator

Dort stand er mit den Ellbogen am Plattentellerund ich fhlte mich schreklich analog,so hilflos ausgeliefert wie ein Wachszylinder,eindrcklich revolvierend. Scheiternd on the dancefloor,

choliambisch in den alkischen Beats. Alkischen?!Ich hatte nicht mit solch subtilen Bssen hier gerechnet!Allerdings auch noch nicht zum Pult geschaut,hochschreckend erst bei der Anakreontenmucke.

Sein Anblick fuhr mir rasend durch die Adern.Mein Herzschlag horchte auf und wollt sich nicht entblden,mich wie ein Kurzschluss haltlos auf die Tanzflche zu strecken.Vinyl schmolz wie Lakritze. Noch zerfurcht vom Schreckenschleppt ich mich an den Rand von dieser Rille.Blieb noch in Hrweite. Schwach klopfte mein Wille.

Er an den Tellern konnte kaum die Augen offenhaltenund zwei mal kippte er beinahe um oder sein Bier um,und wenn er berging von seiner Nummer in die andere,klang es wie Halbschlaf und Widerstand dagegen.

(Wahrscheinlich arbeitete er tagsberam Strungstelefon und hrte Stimmenihm durch die Leitungen Oden zuflstern,pochte sein Schdel gegen die Anliegen der Kunden.)

Und nach ein paar weiteren schweren Stunden,die Luft im Club ist dick schon von den Odenlegt mein erschpfter Genius die letzte Scheibe aufund setzt sich neben mich. Sein Kopf sucht hflich Dialog,von seinem Schopf wird diese meine Schrift total verschmiert,beginnt im Traum zu reden, aber redet Dialekt.

WAS FR NEUGIERIGE tIERE

Niemand lebt von ihrem blassen Fleisch,eigentlich knnen sie nur alles falsch machen.Verschlucken Haken, ohne zu krepieren,werden von Monofilamenten zerrissen.Zerquetscht in Schleusen, in Schutzenvor Fluten zerstckelt, eingezwngt inWasserregulierungseinrichtungen, totdurch Unterfhrungskanle geschoben,fatal verstrickt in Treibnetzen und Reusen,bringen red tides sie um,Blten von Algen vertragen sie nicht.

Sie mgen warmes Wasser, sie lebenin wilder Ehe mit kalorischenBetrieben, untersuchendie Wrmequelle, werdenvon Propellern in Teile zerlegt.Oft kratzen sie Kiele, und sie sterbenviel spter an Infektionen oderBlutungen der inneren Organe.

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85 ANN COTTEN 85t

Its a very attractive little device that combines a frequency follower with a device that puts out harmony notes to what youre playingIts main drawback is that the tone that comes out of it is somewhat like a Farfisa organ.Frank Zappa on the Electro Wagnerian Emancipator

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beats, dancefloor.;! ! , .

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tO tHE BLUES

86 ANN COTTEN t

EXtRAVERSION IN tOMI

tH tOMI*

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DVD, , , .

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* Cotten Tomis ( ), Tristia.

Der Toast springt auf und klirrt in meine Stille

Kaffee Kaffee Kaffee Kaffee Kaffee.Ich unterlasse einige Gedanken,

die jemand auf der Strae nicht verstehen wrde.Ich denke an woran ich nicht mehr denken wollte.Mein Leben hier wird Tag fr Tag absurder.

Mein Gott, warum ist denn Corinna nicht bei mir?Gestern hab ich geschworen, ich bleibe nicht mehr hier,mir kommt tglich das Kotzen ber mein Revier.Die Leute auf der Strae sehn mich wie nen Unfall an.Vorgestern aus Versehen war mein Hemd falsch zugeknpft.Ich mag nicht mal die Reime mehr, trete sie mit Fen.

Die DVDs, die mir Corinna schickte, als Tassenuntersatzdie andren warf ich nach der Katze,weil sie miaute, als ich vor Corinnas Foto wichste.

Jetzt schaut mich nicht einmal mehr keine Katze an.Vorgestern, oder war es vorvorgestern? Im einzigen Lokalschlug ich dem Obmann der Freiwilligen Feuerwehrdie Faust ins Gesicht. Deswegen bin ich dort nicht mehr.

Ich unterlasse immer mehr Gedankenund alle Wrter, die mit C beginnenund alle mit Doppel-n.Liebe Corinna, hr, aus meinem Romanwird hchstwahrscheinlich nichts, ich arbeite daran,alles, was weh tut, zu krzen.

86 ANN COTTEN t

EXtRAVERSION IN tOMI

tH tOMI*

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DVD, , , .

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* Cotten Tomis ( ), Tristia.

Der Toast springt auf und klirrt in meine Stille

Kaffee Kaffee Kaffee Kaffee Kaffee.Ich unterlasse einige Gedanken,

die jemand auf der Strae nicht verstehen wrde.Ich denke an woran ich nicht mehr denken wollte.Mein Leben hier wird Tag fr Tag absurder.

Mein Gott, warum ist denn Corinna nicht bei mir?Gestern hab ich geschworen, ich bleibe nicht mehr hier,mir kommt tglich das Kotzen ber mein Revier.Die Leute auf der Strae sehn mich wie nen Unfall an.Vorgestern aus Versehen war mein Hemd falsch zugeknpft.Ich mag nicht mal die Reime mehr, trete sie mit Fen.

Die DVDs, die mir Corinna schickte, als Tassenuntersatzdie andren warf ich nach der Katze,weil sie miaute, als ich vor Corinnas Foto wichste.

Jetzt schaut mich nicht einmal mehr keine Katze an.Vorgestern, oder war es vorvorgestern? Im einzigen Lokalschlug ich dem Obmann der Freiwilligen Feuerwehrdie Faust ins Gesicht. Deswegen bin ich dort nicht mehr.

Ich unterlasse immer mehr Gedankenund alle Wrter, die mit C beginnenund alle mit Doppel-n.Liebe Corinna, hr, aus meinem Romanwird hchstwahrscheinlich nichts, ich arbeite daran,alles, was weh tut, zu krzen.

87 ANN COTTEN 87t

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MEtONYMIE, WIR Ich sprech fr dich, lass gut sein.Lass gut sein, sag ich. Seiberuhigt, sage ich, ich formuliere,da knnen, wenn ich fertig bin, wir beide rein.

Das Dichten, sagst du, macht dich schrecklich mde.Das Ich-Sagen erschpft mich mehr, sag ich.Breit doch dein Wir aus, du, das meint uns beide,und dann machen wir Picknick drauf. Wirklich,

ich bring das Wort nur schwer ber die Zhnehinaus, sie schlagen hart gegeneinander,wenn du mich meinst, ich dich und Grinsenallein kann in ne Harmonie uns schwemmen,wir fragen: wollen wir? Du sagst: Ich schon.Du auch? Whrend ich mich an deine Zhne lehne.

Schenk ein! Merum schlgt dich und michber den ganzen Nachmittag inden Tannin, das schwere, rtlichschwarze Kleid der, ja, Verwechselungen.

Anstoen, bis wir weder aus noch ein,nur schwirrend wissen von den Buchstabenzu schlieen mehr, wessen Initialenwir nun tatschlich in die Buche graben

mit meinem Messer. Deines ist zu kleinund klappt zurck, wenn man den Winkel falschberechnet. Bin dabei zu ritzen DU,als du dein Werk mir zeigst: du ritztest ELVIS.

Okay, wir machen Fehler. Doch es lachtb unsrer Anstalten das blanke Sein.

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Τεφλόν - Τεύχος 3

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Transcript of Τεφλόν - Τεύχος 3