Liars (caught shorty poem)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 27, 2021 @ 10:05 am

You [have] call for
You get
A patsy


You only get Apate
When you don’t
Need her
Or when
You Didn’t
You Did

38 is the new 42 (Dodgson Spiegel)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 15, 2021 @ 7:55 am

38 is the new 42
Once we get past the
Creationist dinosaurs
Who think they are
The centre of the

But on my radio
Like a Senegalese ice cream vendor
In the film Ghost dog
When one day it is 42
The next it is 38

(And there’s a crack!
Est-il La Haine
encore un fois?
еще раз?)

And so
Reversed again
The next day
We move

And yet, in French cinema
There is a Senegalese version
That is 35
Shots of rum.

So one can go
From 42 to 38
And back

And 38 to 35
And back

But in matters of poverty,
And inequality

And the things humans do to other humans
(It’s the stupid economy, stupid)

Is the path of 7s
from 35 to 42
And back
Without the
6 of diamonds
Chasing the 5
Of diamonds?

Dead labour numbers

Equivalent to the ×’
Chasing the ד.
As farces go
It’s an issue of
Salmon mayonnaise

Kinky Nemesis

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 14, 2021 @ 8:29 am

Tyche is a cyborg mechanistic manifold assemblage, but she’s still hot…

It’s just that I prefer her sister Nemesis,

And trust their sister Agathon Daemon slightly more.

But indeed it is


That Nemesis is just so damn kinky!

And damn, when Nemesis paro-dies

Her sister Tyche,

In clothes so fine

Oh, so fine…

And in cruelty

Marries me first

Dresses me up like Agathon Daemon and

Insists to please her

I talk like Diogenes

Whilst I wank in a barrel.

As she fucks Tyche’s hubristic wannabe

rejected Lovers

Confused by

Nemesis in Tyche’s clothes


So fine

So fine.


So hot

So hot.

And so

I mow down

The incels with a pomegranate

Scatter gun

In a hail of scorn,

As they come

To the wrong yard


Nemesis’ decoy duck.

And then feeling even hornier

Nemesis returns to me

And we fuck

and fuck

and fuck

Laughing at the dead

In the glory of

The tiqqun

As I lay bare

the back of Nemesis

With my bull whip


So fine

So fine.


So hot

So hot.

And then…

We begin


‘Inner Child Play: I Hate Monday jokes’

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on September 27, 2021 @ 6:33 am

How can you castrate Uranus?
Just give it time
It’ll be a beautiful thing

Lord and Lady Shitty Haw Haw (not the titular)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on July 30, 2021 @ 6:53 am

For the record,
I hate to pull rank
but my specialty
really did look at
the syntax of child abusers
and believe me
Shitty Haw Haw
uses that language
in his/her
austerity based
fascist propaganda.

To be frank
it seriously concerns me
as the song goes,
‘your children
will be next’,
that you would
rather shoot
and oppress,
the messenger.

And with the title
(now we,
well I,
am at the end,
of this journey
coming last.

I am glad
both me and my partner
both jumped
and laughed
when Hermes
picked up
my empty set.

And now the end is near
or not!

I move on.
You’re a cunt.

And I leave you with
what you already had
but refused to use.

At least
a modicum
of free will.

Not much of a
is it?

I know
Haw Haw
hates it
for one.

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
Building a Jerusalem
Out of Ezekiel


Fucked by the future
Looked pretty
Good to me

But it turned out
Nice again

Masochist as
I am
Given you’re
The angel of
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

If not a one?

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
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 

I came here
To these islands
over 3000 years ago

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

Knowing the potential
Beauty of the Ur-Klang
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 
Of their passion

Hence I earned my name.

But these days
like the capital behind 
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


Pericles came

A partial
On the One

Quibbles and
Anne Tribbles

Tyche demands!

From Ur upstairs
Rock On
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
Deputy Dawg
Fore yaw

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

Like Houdini
Bane of 
Shit Metaphyiscal

Through the keyhole
Grand Unintelligent Designs

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

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

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

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

Insisting on the safety
in those 
Who refuse no?

Denial that a crisis of
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
that capitulates
To a totalitarian

Having had their ability
To learn to learn
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
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

I clean up

So I get
The Record 
Level off

I have
Bee Spoken
Hel Yeah!

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

So moat this bee!

Wa Dis?
Sonic Boom

A Cryptic
Cross Word

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.

Is definitely
For you)

I am
Soon To

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
Be a return to 

It’s been
A few thousand
Years now.

At the handling
Of Covid-19

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

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

But the Gimel’s
Hoard hound
Keeps Chasing 
Her tail

Tom O’Bedlam

And as I 
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
Deep within

As the vibe
Finally arrives

Leaving her
As Queen of the mòr
And me 
As Just
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
я ем
I am

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

As she was
In the
So shall She
Than You

And so she can

When you like a
Sovereign coyne age
are merely spent and

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
Only oned

If we internalise
Or even just
pass on

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

Supporting inequality
And our own lowered
Average wage

By complaining about
The Five man Army
Stuck in reverse

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

Rather than
Unjust Five

The current Aaron Coynage
Narrower minds
Than a Sussex
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
With more than just the one tongue
Burned and learned
In the desert
Of concrete reifried
history underlying
material, and oh, so warm fleshed

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

Fucking Skills

Seize the means
Of Articulation

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

Yours truly
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


For It’s Own Sake
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

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

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
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

Id’s as easy

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

Art Threat

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

They Just
A Butt in

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



Ipse Dixit

Pass it on
Theory Henri
Big Stick

Breaks the Rules

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

I fought
The Law

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

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

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

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