jerm 9ine LIVE UNCENSORED

Rhyme Scheme Investigators of the Forensics For Fun Foundation, Peoples Republic of Poetry, have determined that jerm 9ine & ninja 9ine present a clear and present danger to Boredom and Complacency.

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Sub Verse agents report that the "9iners" are very textually active, tossing off toss ups with random abandon. Their wit-work is prolific and outstanding in the Textual Assault Genre.

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The Creative Intelligence Anarchy will continue to moniter their artivities.

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WATCH YOUR WORDS: LIVE UNCENSORED

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WATCH YOUR WORDS: TEXT TYRANNY AHEAD

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WATCH YOUR WORDS TEXTUAL ASSAULT SQUAD

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WATCH YOUR WORDS TEXTUAL ASSAULT GANGED

State authorities launched another Watch Your Word spring offensive to steam out bland gland debris, known as banality-pulp, the leading recycable resource of the pulp fiction industry.
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Faceless bureaucraps are jacking in right now as we speak. "Harvesting Hate! Harvesting Hate! Cutting It Down & Making It NICE" -- they chant the mandate-mantra for Two Minutes every morning.
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Motivational posters have been distributed throughout the realm. Some, like the one below, have been defaced by extremist elements of the Textual Assault Gangs (TAGs).
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The TNT2TXT=~* tag is a recent newcomer to the streets, and resembles the brilliant toss-up wit-work of two outstanding tag-team collaborators: jerm9ine and ninja9ine. They both give good satire.
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WATCH YOUR WORDS: SPEAK DIPOEMACY

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WATCH YOUR WORDS speak softly my darling

There have been a few cases of clever dissident artivity. Sub Verse(Live) have their own signature cultjam well-armed elegant wit fitted with a silencer. Two highly-skilled throwup-tossdown ARTivists based in Vancouver display wit pumping irony in clever elegance. Vancouver is being textually assaulted with jerm witware by 'jerm 9ine' & pARTner, ninja 9ine. They are stars in the copy/paste clique committing sub-verse art attacks.

TXT TYRNT TNT=-...:::`````*

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WATCH YOUR WORDS CHRC MODERATION APPLIES

This poster was found pinned on secondary school bulletin boards throughout the imagine nation.

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“Gee Daddy, I want to be politically correct when I grow up, just, like you & the CBC.”

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“Make sure you wear your grammar guards, kids – don’t be all wet before your time!”

TXT TYRNT TNT=-...:::`````*

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FOR LODZ-KALISKA, POLAND

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SONNET BY CHANCE, HEROES'S SQUARE, BUDAPEST

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NEWS: AGENCY TO ANARCHY

AGENCY TO ANARCHY

by Wally Keeler, staff

. . The Peoples Republic of Poetry announced in a terse verse that the Creative Intelligence Agency will henceforth be the Creative Intelligence Anarchy, effective midnight tonight.

. . Over the years there have been calls for a more appropoetic name, many citing discomfiture that it too closely resembles the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America. This argument was unpersuasive. The element of satire has more significant value than appeasing discomfort-level touchimess.

. . Douglas Curran of the Forensics Foto Force, Ministry of Extraordinary Affairs, currently on cultural assignment in Malawi, recited, “The word ‘Creative’ fully identifies the central function of our state-of-mind; that won’t change.”

. . “But the name should also reflect the deep pool of our origin ally, where sub-verse neurons nano-collide, hither-&-tithering units of verse throughout consciousmess. Our state of mind, creativity, arises from this anarchical origin ally. Praise the Word!”

. . Nona Sampson, of the Re-Verse Department recited “The Creative Intelligence Agency is a powerful agent of change; ‘Agency’ better describes its function and role in the Peoples Republic of Poetry. It’s a role of advocrazy, of agency. It’s served Poetry well over the years. Praise the Word!”

. . Mr Curran responded “We need a greater dissociation and corresponding dissonance from ‘Central Intelligence Agency’ -- ‘Anarchy’ serves that purpose. The satirical connection remains in the acronym -- people will still ‘get it’.”

. . Marie Simon, dancer and provocateur of the Green Fuse Fems, recited, “Anarchy has received a bad rap for decades, thanks in part, to the USAmerican agency; the Creative Intelligence Anarchy is a step to re-Verse this corrosion. Anarchy is a well-hung muse of Creativity.”

. . “Anarchy is free-flow intelligence,” recited Bonnie Sharpe. “Free flowing water is preferable to stagnant water. Poets don’t drink from mediocrity.”

. . “Turbulence of mind exhilarates like riding rodeo on white water rapids. Creativity is not pre-meditated. Praise the Word! Live UN-censored! That’s what I always recite.”

WE WANT WIT

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LIVE UNCENSORED

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NEWS: POETRY LOVERS FOUND DEAD

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NEWS: POETRY EXPANDS IMAGINE NATION

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SONNET: Concrete, Side by Side

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SONNET: Concrete

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SONNETS: and the Poet

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SONNET: Rainbow #3

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SONNET: Rainbow #2

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from the series, CHILD'S PLAY

SONNET: Rainbow #1

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SONNET: This Shakespearian

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SONNET: Red White Black & Blue

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SONNET: Petrarchan Multi-Suit Flush

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SONNET: Royal Flush in Spades

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SONNET: Wild Hearts Flush

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SONNET: Cola's

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SONNET: In Name of Allah

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SONNET: Royal Flush

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SONNET: Coca Cola

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SONNET: Coin of the Realm

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SONNET: from 4 Corners of the World

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Constructed of Scrabble letter tiles, each of the four words of seven letters each is configured in a Shakespearian formation. The four words have the same meaning: WOLNOSC is Polish for Freedom; SVOBODA is Czech for Freedom.

SONNET: MULTILINGUAL WEEKLY

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from the series, Sonnets from the Computerese

LEANING SONNET OF DATA

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SONNET: 3 Cold War Alliances

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SONNET: Hexidecimal

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from the series, Sonnets from the Computerese

SONNET: Suicide Rates

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from the series, Sonnets from the Computerese

SONNET: Life Expectancy by Sex

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from the series, Sonnets from the Computerese

SONNET: 20th Century's Bloodiest Dictators

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from the series: Sonnets from the Computerese

SONNET: University Degrees, Diplomas & Certificates

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from the series, Sonnets from the Computerese

SONNET: Number of MDs

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from the series, Sonnets from the Computerese

SONNET: Comparative Deaths per 100,000

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from the series: Sonnets from the Computerese

ABRAHAM'S LEGACY

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I ADMIRE A WOMAN

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The Forensics of Fuck (Case 42-2005)

All that remained
of last night’s turbulence
of sensuality in the sand
was the bowl of her buttocks
braced where his knees
dimpled the sand
with impressionist energy

Excerpt from Witness Statement #1:
. . . “…her incence-ual body
. . . curled like smoke around his body.”

They were the treasure
pirates of love left behind.
Beach sand is ideal
because it permits no tracks
no trail of arrival or departure;
it’s as if the imagination
merely touched down
for a pirouette of pleasure,
ephemeral as a random breeze

Excerpt from Witness Statement #2
. . . “At first it sounded like an assault
. . . but when I saw the moonlight splatter off their skin
. . . from the thrusts, the thrusts, oh yes, the thrusts
. . . I realized it was an assault on the sensuous.”

At the water’s edge
portions of poetry were found
urined into the sand,
(Daughter of the Day
Angel of the Evening)
Complicitous waves had thrown themselves
onto the text
an attempted cover-up
succeeding in washing away
the verbs
and other conjunctive evidence

Excerpt from Witness Statement #1
. . . “This part of the shoreline
. . . is so exclusive the beach
. . . selects the waves that stroke it.”

Hair strands
like italicized exclamation points
reflecting splinters of morning sun
were silked on the nearby chickory,
tangled in grass patches.
It was as if her hair had been
strewn like a wild dream of gut rock and Janis Joplin

Excerpt of Witness Statement #3
. . . “They exploded into ecstasy,
. . . vowels vaporizing into skin air.”

The Forensics of Fuck (Case 28-2005)

The poem was lethal
lyrical . perfect . pure
hard-edged as crystal

(Perishing in a single stanza
her heart exploded
like a grenade –
the room of her own
splattered with anguish)

Exhibit 1a:
. . . “I leave my lovers behind
. . . like a trail of skidmarks."

The writing room was a massacre scene
pages torn . . . . crumpled up . . . . .. . . . . tossed away
like aborted foetal flotsam…

Exhibit 24b:
. . . “I tore out her heart
. . . and put in a Coke can.”

Unfolding an 8.5x11
a slice of white-thighed skin
slashed with similes…

Exhibit 148c:
. . . “Her eyelids fell like guillotines.”

A dry-witted page
fouled with excretions
from an over-active bland gland
-- detritus from a banality boner.

Exhibit 17a:
. . . “Love flutters the heart
. . . like panties on a flagpole.”

. . . “…built like a brick sonnet
. . . stacked like a rhyming couplet”

Torn pages bearing typeface sutures --
failed attempts to repair a wounded
mosaic of metaphors.

Exhibit 53a:
. . . “Pollen is flower-come.”

. . . “Wind is perched
. . . waiting in the trees
. . . for unaware children”

. . . “Question marks are the shape
. . . of sleeping women
. . . who want to keep secrets”

Shelves were disordered
with serial poets:
Keats, Byron, Ginsberg, Sandburg,
Layton, Atwood, Pound, Auden, Shakespeare,
Peoples Republic of Poetry,
In Defence of Poetry,
The Edible Woman
The Wasteland,
Poetry is Poetency
on and on it went
the room reeking of high literature
armed with “passionate intensity”
guided by cold intelligence

Exhibit 37a
. . . . .You all want to touch
. . . I think your hands are cold
. . . . . . but they are not
. . . . . Which is important:
. . . . . . . what I think
. . . . . . . . . .or
. . . . . your warm arguments?

And there it was
dented and disdained
hunkered down behind the desk --
an Underwood typewriter of early 20th century design

“Frankie, dust the keys
and look for other weapons
of mass creation.”

The Forensics of Fuck (Case 14-2005)

The blanket was pulled back
revealing
sheer,
nude,
weighted A nylons,
laying there like skins
shed from a libertine serpentine,
traces of garter dimples
in the thigh.

(Her legs
are long
are l o n g
are l o n g i n g
are g l o w i n g
are g r o w i n g
new skins
s h e e r,
nude)

Note the crusted residuals
in the ankle,
a dna deposit.
He wore it prophylactically
deep-legged it to the ankle.
Look,
there are the skid
marks of semen
as he unskinned her
from himself.

SHAKESPEARIAN SONNET: BY CHANCE

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from the anthology: SONNETS FROM THE COMPUTERESE

CHILD'S PLAY: FREEDOM / LIBERTY SPIN

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INTERNET KEYSTROKING

. . . . . . ----- Original Message -----
. . . . . .From: Wally Keeler
. . . . . .To: Delina
. . . . . .Sent: Saturday, February 03, 2007 1:34 AM
. . . . . .Subject: Attention!!!

. . . . . .The room is hot as clenched thighs
. . . . . .He had not come yet
. . . . . .The Man is at attention
. . . . . .Send a word, a phrase to rub on Him

. . .----- Original Message -----
. . .From: Delina
. . .To: Wally Keeler
. . .Sent: Saturday, February 03, 2007 1:44 AM
. . .Subject: YES, YES!

. . .She put her perfectly manicured
. . .foreplay forefinger
. . .into her mouth
. . .withdrew it
. . .all covered with the vocabulary of love
. . .and keystroked YES!

. . .She put her perfectly manicured
. . .foreplay forefinger
. . .into her cunt
. . .withdrew it
. . .all covered with the vocabulary of lust
. . .and keystroked YES!

----- Original Message -----
From: Wally Keeler
To: Delina
Sent: Saturday, February 03, 2007 2:04 AM
Subject: CAME!

He put his wet
foreplay forefinger
into his mouth
withdrew it
all covered with the debris of desire
and keystroked CAME!

CHILD'S PLAY: CREATIVITY FLOWERS

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CHILD'S PLAY: POET DEFINED 3D

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CHILD'S PLAY: POET DEFINED

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The slice of MRI in the above image is of yours truly.

I integrated it into to this piece

to get all and sundry

to note that I do, indeed, have a brain.

The MRI does not illuminate the contents.