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Opening
Words
Submissions
More
Stuff on different things
Closing
Words
The
seasons come and the seasons go, which means another issue of "Avant Garde
Times" is ready to be unleashed upon the poetry reading population.
We have a number of new contributors for this issue, which keeps this happening.
I suppose the question is, what's new
out there in poetry. I believe I'm seeing a shift away from the standard
and traditional free verse to the more free style of verse.
We've seen it with Ben Ohmart's dialogue poetry.
There are some other examples
of free style with this issue. The themes, as well, are becoming
closer to home. Poetry is not the expression of fantasy, but is rooted
in real life. With the internet making another form of communication
possible to most people, we have the way to express ourselves and be heard.
I wrote, not too long ago, that we live in an age where mass-marketing
is masquarading as culture. The acceptance of web publishing as another
alternative culture is holding back the wave of blandness which seems to
surround. So, what can I say, keep it up everybody.
If you want to make the
plunge and become a publisher of an ezine- go for it. It will be
time consuming, frustrating, especially if you lose the disk or there's
a crash, and rewarding.
Submissions
Eric
Hartill , Steven
Fernier Lee , David
Michael Jackson , Viesta
Barker Morrison , Charlotte
Mair , Hallowe'en
When I was
a kid I used to sit
In the back
of the station wagon
And watch
the cars on the highway.
I pictured
them as wolves,
Most running
in packs
But some alone,
The lone wolves
that run
between the
packs.
Now I'm grown
up, and I don't drive.
I ride my
bike or I walk, and I've seen
The results
of their predataion.
A cat that
walked on the side of the road,
A dog that
tried to cross,
A squirrel
with a flat head,
An armadillo
with broken armor.
Sometimes they
take down larger prey;
A child who
didn't look both ways
Before crossing
the street,
A woman walking
her dog,
A man on his
bike.
So I laugh
when I see them fight -
Sometimes
just a bite on the haunches,
But sometimes
a knock-down,
Drag-out fight
to the death,
Often for
both of them.
And I cheer
when one of them
Inexplicably
dashes headlong into a tree,
Bringing its
own death,
Or when one
takes a lemming-leap
Into a watery
grave.
These are
just desserts.
the pictures
that i like (need) the most of you
are the ugly
ones. makeup smeared and face unposed
mask removed
and hydra
beast
revealed
ec
i love the
modelyou for the art that it is but
ia m addicted
to what
is underneath
the gloss press media gift.
candid shots,
or fury shots, sickened and sad
in rage, mad,
lost, mourning, vindictive
hundreds folders
hundreds mad violent image stop image stop
ic
and i spend
centuries of words orbiting your sun
and the trajectory
is wrong but the attempt is with full throttle
and not all
of these are in folder marilyn manson
ai
(hero'storchkingdomofheavensynesthaesiawork
inprogess
towards
what)
d
i cannot deceive
you, substitute X for you, drink my way around you
can't talk
this out, can't hold this in, can't crush this down
can't metaphor
to death, though hell knows i try
and the other
escape--
he's good
but he is not that good,
no one is
that good
and what loveless
letters these are, from when flesh met fear
and i learned
horror, scent, and depth, with colors beyond these eyes
beyond
(stitches for this i t c h ing)
r
is this a vision
thing? yes? no?
biotech open
close, but human data still
i plead with
the ghost of bosch, for a pretty lie
that i am
not the first eye to cover hell
and he avoids
my look, with silence, then:
hey, i painted
a few things. doesn't make me jesus
and you piqued
deity attention. doesn't make you judas
and doesn't
make you peter
a
(take a stone.
i shake my head
my hand knows
how easy it would be
but i would
rather let the world drop
dead)
c
what kind of
akira lives in between
judas and
peter
both close
to nazarene
(273A-C7-C)
e
no room for
worship, no mercy for need
mutant expansion
in unknown directions
and leonard
cohen whispers, choose a faction
v
{but you are
right, i am not qualified
and i am so
hollow that you echo here
but the pain
i hear in your digital transmission
(radio, live
[?])
is human.
human. and familiar.
and i will
not let this be your}
(listenlistenpleaselistenlistenpleaselistenlisten)
please
and bosch is
a deafmute hologram, and kerouac isn't talking.
sylvia plath
nods and pretends to smile, and dali pontificates.
with angular
moustache.
o
i would talk
to bret eaton ellis, but i'm not good with the living
so i guess
when he wrote american, space, psycho
he meant,
not you, not in spite of you, but
because of
you
l
and ninety
nine percent of the because
is nowhere
near kissing distance of
(denial)this
(denial)is
(denial)not
(denial)a
(denial)love
letter
tnemom elbarenluv
tsom ym si siht
pretty, pretty
one _______________________________________________
slit suits
make me a new
genome, an animal
a dense pleasure
vacuum of languid charm/strange appetites
i cannibalize
my own failing structure, eating eggshells,
teeth grating
calcium grit and silicone dust
and inside
my ribcage where the factory is i manufacture wonders
and pull them
out with greased gloves. it's only a four inch incision
(nothing helps
the itch, incidentally. except pulling at the stitches
and we all
know they say never never do that no you'll get a scar)
and oh i'm
sure we can do it but the problem is
we don't have
the space to set up anything that big
and maybe
it will fix fix fix itself
and maybe
no one will blame us for the damage
and we buy
this old fucked spiel and turn off the altar
and drink
beer and bitch at each other about the kids on tv
talk shows
sending kids to recon, only for now they've decided to call
it boot camp,
and i hear in her voice something like smug satisfaction
that it's
so bad
these days
and i crave
something like a cavern
someplace
dark and wide and old and lonely where even the air is heavy
and thoughts
mire tight and deep in your pressurized brain
and colorless
eyes span upwards through the dark, through the stone
and above
these underplanet kids and their radioactive country
the sky is
a disaster
I hear voices outside my cubicle
they are talking work
they have no work talk for me
for I am being downsized
I was big
I was busy
I was useful
now I am small
for I am being downsized
i have almost nothing to do
.........i hear people passing by
my
cubicle...
i recognize their voices
and say to my self..."that's so
and
so" they are keeping them..
...they are worthwhile.....
I hear them talking
about work......
I am
jealous
Oh I was so big
I carried the company's future
on my broad
shoulders
I walked with other giants
and spoke of 12 hour days and
reports to even bigger giants
now long
gone
there's no
telling how long it will take me
to get enough self-confidence
to get
another job.
i may have had some once.
and self-respect.
so long ago, i
don't remember any more
so let's go
downsize my ass
and get me the fuck
out
of here
(get yourself out of here you fool)
How did you come to this
a downsized fool in a downsized
cubicle
in a downsized world
eating downsized shit
==========================
8.
Hell Jackson
why don't you just
shut the fuck
up
You might hit the truth
good people,
all
trying to make my life more efficient
can
slow me down
to
a
stan
d
s
t
i
l
l
Dragon eyes
set searching the midnight sun
for liquid
moons that ripple undertow
to absorbed
lands of yesterday's dreams
where a single
star in a string of gold
circles the
light of gems below
while swift
wings of a silver beast echo past
blue-violet
greens
fragile as
the last
cry your diamonds, Dear,
and whisper
of these dreams
for all that
glitters in this night
belongs to
you alone~
Beast of the Child~
Standing on
the edge the Meadow---
cliffs surge
in majestic Surrounding
with a wisp
of air, the Meadow…….
feels his
flight as he is Rounding
thunderous
in his Encounter
feels she
the breath from the Beast
thereupon
they Eye one Another
suspect of
who feels the Least
she closes
the Distance
with calm
Deliberation….
a child that
Knows
of the dragon’s
Evolution
with outstretched
Hands,
and the same
hidden Fears,
near they’re
Drawn,
senses she
the dragon’s Tears
the people
cry Nay
rising behind
the Two,
good cannot
Come of this
a dragon you
must not Woo!
together they
Circle
twirl round,
round they Go,
closer… yet
Still
naying heed
to the people? No!
great Hesitation
they’re face
to Face,
small tender
Hands
caress the
Giants grand breast
deep throated
Rumbles
silent…. the
two Unite
purple smoke
it does Swirl
ner’a
person in Sight
beauty you
See
Is in the
eye of the Beholder
the Beast
that is there
iIs a genuine
Protector
the child
she Saw
the beast
he did Counter
you see what
was Missing
was one from
the Other~~
Viesta 99~
Charlotte gives us this little Christmas ditty. A bit early, but with the fact no Avant Garde will be made at Christmas, just paste this on the back of a card.
It’sChristmas
all
the
drunks
are
out
Like
Rudolph’s
shiny
nose
Swindlers
clean
your
pocketbook
You
wear
your
glittered
clothes
There’s
Judy…howya
doin
gal?
You
smile,give
tidings
of
Yule
Then
turn
around
and
talk
about
How
Sandy’s
such
afool!
You
phony
old
sons
of
bitches
Wearing
holly
wreaths
round
half
mass
May
the
candle
burn
bright
When
you
come
home
at
night
With
abig
bright
red
ring
on
your
ass!
Meet
my
sisters,oooh…ain’t
the
night
merry!
They
sing
songs
with
my
brother…ehh
shite
Here’s
my
mother
to
take
spite
On
poor
Daisy,all
the
night
Just
because
she
isn’t
dressed
up
for
the
fight?
All
the
night
is
calm
and
bright
As
the
assholes,yell,
brood
and
fight
What
atime
it
was--flying
gets
me
down
Jingle
bells,OJingle
bells…something
smells
real
ripe
It’s
the
bullshit
flying
in
the
air
tonight!
Now
the
room
is
filled
with
beer
Sausages,crackers
and
lots
of
cheer
The
stifling
phony
atmosphere
is
thick
With
your
fingers
up
your
nose
There’s
atoast
Iwould
propose
That
you
kill
each
other--and
do
it
mighty
quick!
Let’s
pretend
that
we
are
one
big
happy
family
Bigger’s
better,that’s
the
way
it’s
always
been
I
have
more
and
she
has
less
Mine
is
good
and
it’s
the
best
So
don’t
compete--you
will
never
be
in
equal
test
Well..you
can
ream
it
from
one
hole
to
the
other
As
far
as
I’m
concerned
Money
will
never
buy
the
best
It’s
the
thought
that
goes
into
All
the
things
that
we
will
do
And
the
heart
from
which
we
truly
do
invest
Way
hey…as
we
wassail
now
Down
memory
lane,about
the
days
of
yore
Blow
it
out
your
snout
Andthenturnitall
about
Then
it’s
done
till
next
year
When
we’ll
try
some
more!
The CaMbIe RoAd PoEt
Charlotte Mair
More Stuff on different things
Last issue I brought to you the band "Scratching Post". Well, I decided to throw a few more "Scratching Post" things at you. I've been debating whether to make them the "Official Band" of Avant Garde Times, or go with B'ehl. If you like your music hardcore and sexy, the you'll enjoy 'scratching post'. Here's another picture of the lead singer for you to study:
An Essay
In my never-ending
quest to discover what is going on out there, I have discovered a new horror
or trend. I am speaking about the 'corporate magazine'. I went
for a coffee at Starbucks and discovered these company oriented magazines.
Now there has
always been niche magazines, but these seem to go beyond that designation.
Let me give you a few examples, I saw one magazine called "Ikea Home".
This must be the magazine for people who just purchased that diy futon
and have discovered 1) they don't have the right tools, 2) ½ the
screws are missing and 3) it doesn't really matter for the instructions
are in Swedish.
Another magazine
which shocked me was "Sony Style", more like "Sony Gouge". For 8.95
+gst + pst you get a magazine of barely 100 pages, a good ¼ of which
are ads for Sony products. Now if you think of getting this, remember
you will get this in your mail any day now without the article(s).
It's called a catalogue and its free.
You may wonder
how to recognize this new magazine, from my brief exposure they have some
characteristics, first they have the dimensions and paper quality of "Wired"
and second the company name is displayed, either in the title or somewhere
on the page. Should you spend the money, I would say the price of
it and whether there are more articles then ads should play into the equation.
Will this continue, if the others make a buck, most certainly.
top
Here's
the end of the ezine. Keep sending in your work.
All work is copyright
by the respected creators, don't steal. ©1999.
This ezine is brought
about by the hard work of a lot of people who have taken the time to submit.
It's up to me to copy and paste and come up with a few words to put around
the great work. This ezine is made on Paul's computer, when he can
find the time. You can email your work to:
avantgarde@angelfire.com