http://cargocollective.com Pea Soup Sun, 07 Apr 2013 12:00:44 +0000 http://cargocollective.com en http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/One-Century-After-Another-by-H-de-Montbazon http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/One-Century-After-Another-by-H-de-Montbazon Sun, 07 Apr 2013 12:00:44 +0000 Pea Soup 2856141 <img src="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2856141/Richter bathers.jpg" width="480" height="345" width_o="480" height_o="345" src_o="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2856141/Richter bathers_o.jpg" data-mid="21910992" border="0" align="left"/> In a reverie while butterflies laugh, And blue stripes sleep on unfolded deckchairs, And marmalade scribbles bloom in flower pots, And the washing line hangs winter’s last wash; On a floating dress we wake, gazing at The lo-fi sky calling out for renaissance. “Let us wade through yellow poppy fields, Holding hands for the first time since winter A ripened lemon-sun is beaming bright And in slow motion paint trickles up the lens, Why do my demons not follow me here Where I am invincible Standing at the cliff edge of wild grass fields and buttercups Songbirds and silence trickling down through my throat Into my heart-cage No grand orchestra just sailing silence, No waterloo, nothing Just a deadbeat summer.” Artful disguise worn by the tick of time, We’ve seen a thousand like him, lost & found, Knee deep in the wasteland of spring, Lamenting the passing shadow of life Only to be found washed-up On a beach where waves dance with infinity And space and hope and castles built on sand, And autumn clouds will shackle his feet To the anchor of lassitude, Dead-heavy whale Swimming to the bottom of the ocean Deep into the bed sheets Where the looking glass wrings the memory for nostalgia Daring to disturb the universe at teatime A little prince with dreams in my pocket. I rest my head against her look at the sky; wonder, and sigh. In a reverie while butterflies laugh, And blue stripes sleep on unfolded deckchairs, And marmalade scribbles bloom... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/Polaroid-1-by-H-de-Montbazon http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/Polaroid-1-by-H-de-Montbazon Wed, 27 Feb 2013 16:07:25 +0000 Pea Soup 5076915 <img src="http://payload138.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/5076915/1143-300x312.jpg" width="300" height="312" width_o="300" height_o="312" src_o="http://payload138.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/5076915/1143-300x312_o.jpg" data-mid="27229472" border="0" align="left"/> On the black and blue sea of onlookers we anchored our ship in the sixth arrondissement, untwisted the spyglass to absorb jewels of Paris enthralled by a flowerpot imbroglio, more than marmalade and lemon curd scribbles we discovered an island a place hidden from eyes and god, a canvas of pointillism, yellow orchids virgin seagulls infinite azure and jaded trees, the patchwork of a forbidden romance a pastiche of Shakespearean drama. On the black and blue sea of onlookers we anchored our ship in the sixth arrondissement, untwisted the spyglass to absorb jewels of Paris enthralled by a... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/Polaroid-0-by-H-de-Montbazon http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/Polaroid-0-by-H-de-Montbazon Sun, 30 Sep 2012 11:16:55 +0000 Pea Soup 4170520 <img src="http://payload93.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/4170520/tumblr_mcvgo9iERn1qblarzo1_500.jpg" width="450" height="459" width_o="450" height_o="459" src_o="http://payload93.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/4170520/tumblr_mcvgo9iERn1qblarzo1_500_o.jpg" data-mid="28804455" border="0" align="left"/> Void blossomed the universe coughed chaos dark matter opened the curtains and tongues of light lapsed the frame, carving the sun dial. Consciousness woke from Arcadian sleep Our eyelids fluttered in slow motion And so for us it began Crawling out of nothingness Void blossomed the universe coughed chaos dark matter opened the curtains and tongues of light lapsed the frame, carving the sun dial. Consciousness woke... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/The-Head-Hunted-by-A-James http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/The-Head-Hunted-by-A-James Fri, 28 Sep 2012 09:30:14 +0000 Pea Soup 4148039 <img src="http://payload92.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/4148039/Jean_Morin_-_Memento_Mori_-_WGA16234.jpg" width="670" height="614" width_o="982" height_o="900" src_o="http://payload92.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/4148039/Jean_Morin_-_Memento_Mori_-_WGA16234_o.jpg" data-mid="21908227" border="0" align="left"/> Breaking into Bedlam’s opaque hallways Of diabolic dreaming and senseless Meanings where vagabonds and heathens Are caught up in coat-tails of pickpockets And prostitutes and politicians Stirring in the shadows of a spiral staircase Talking over vanities and maladies, Bodies loved and bodies left In sunken cities, desert graves, And irksome taverns on council estates. In this panorama of inhumanity, All jest and jeer and jealousy, Ghosts and ghouls and drunken fools Are twisting in terror of a tincture, A gingerbread wine, a faerie’s fancies With all the vices of a brothel in a bottle, Half captivating, half decapitating! Oh, to be beneath the blue And not a part of this appalling vista Surrounded by streaming silhouettes, By wraiths and witches; Some doomed dreamer Sits alone reading of rosaries And writing poetry of poisons, Lost in leagues of lucid dreams And reveries of pure repulsion, Sorrow in his sights And sickness in his skeleton. Breaking into Bedlam’s opaque hallways Of diabolic dreaming and senseless Meanings where vagabonds and heathens Are caught up in coat-tails of pickpockets And... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/Where-I-Left-My-Postmodern-by-J-Hargreaves http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/Where-I-Left-My-Postmodern-by-J-Hargreaves Fri, 28 Sep 2012 07:19:17 +0000 Pea Soup 4162206 <img src="http://payload93.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/4162206/masl13_breaktherules.jpg" width="399" height="352" width_o="399" height_o="352" src_o="http://payload93.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/4162206/masl13_breaktherules_o.jpg" data-mid="21908103" border="0" align="left"/> 4 gin and accolades. Butter the crumpets of de Beistegui or become an apostrophising apostle. Necessarily merrily merrily. Computers exist, and wonder at what Cummings came to do. That doesn’t nec….error. The nose of Fry isn’t easy on the eye. That doesn’t necessarily mean Cyrano de Bergerac is past. Get uncomfortable with conscientious solecism. Or necessarily mean. I’ve never offered the stem of a Viscaria to Spicer. That doesn’t necessarily mean I refute beformaldehyded (there we are) sharks. 4 gin and accolades. Butter the crumpets of de Beistegui or become an apostrophising apostle. Necessarily merrily merrily. ... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/Hundreds-and-Thousands-by-J-Hargreaves http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/Hundreds-and-Thousands-by-J-Hargreaves Wed, 22 Feb 2012 10:43:47 +0000 Pea Soup 2860542 <img src="http://payload28.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2860542/Foule_Saint-Donat.jpg" width="670" height="670" width_o="1140" height_o="1140" src_o="http://payload28.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2860542/Foule_Saint-Donat_o.jpg" data-mid="21911300" border="0" align="left"/> To all promising dissenters, to those emergent amoebae, To those with optimistic station and troller’s temperate motivation, To those warming the larvae of an idea, knowing the best to be hoped for is flies, To the fissures of men, as various and dangerous as San Franciscan tectonics, To hunger merchants, unzipping saturated tents in afternoon gridlock, To vandalism and theft, and its firm belief in the righteousness and glory of tedium, To drawing the line with vituperation, or snorting it with apparent gumption, To Ducdames of socio-politico-sexual conjugation, to carolling military hegemony, And the honourable inevitability of artistic sky-scratching testimonials Giving labourers drinking money, toasting with zaftig triceps To the absence of their wives and tyranny, to undone commuters, To marching orgulously over rebuilt bridges in the name of appetency, To entertainments backed by remote diseases, to fanatics of sporting endeavour, Wrapped in inflammatory flags, following the point of Kitchener to the penalty spot, To smoking Winstons in midfield, to snapped shins and waiting room televisions, To those abroad utilising their common foreign nationality for crucifixal belligerence, Imagine the rattling sound of us, no louder than a shuddering matchbox, Mottles on a proportionally miniscule orb doing alternations like a playground stone, And then imagine the universe as a hyperactive child, whining over pouring Of specks he’ll forget, in spite of the number, given the relative size. To all promising dissenters, to those emergent amoebae, To those with optimistic station and troller’s temperate motivation, To those warming the larvae of an... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/Salome-by-J-Hargreaves http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/Salome-by-J-Hargreaves Wed, 22 Feb 2012 05:08:02 +0000 Pea Soup 2859097 <img src="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2859097/220px-Theda_Bara_in_Salom_1918_-_01.jpg" width="220" height="278" width_o="220" height_o="278" src_o="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2859097/220px-Theda_Bara_in_Salom_1918_-_01_o.jpg" data-mid="21911569" border="0" align="left"/> From the patter (The portico’s echo of her slipper told me a dancer) I discerned she’d taken whatever Left at the last juncture, To the ministry of my mistakes, where the matter Was handled by some other chancer. From the patter (The portico’s echo of her slipper told me a dancer) I discerned she’d taken whatever Left at the last juncture, To the ministry of my... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/A-Doggerel-s-Dinner-by-A-James http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/A-Doggerel-s-Dinner-by-A-James Wed, 22 Feb 2012 04:58:01 +0000 Pea Soup 2859027 <img src="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2859027/viewmultimediadocument.jpeg" width="600" height="389" width_o="600" height_o="389" src_o="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2859027/viewmultimediadocument_o.jpeg" data-mid="21908146" border="0" align="left"/> I have seen the horrors of a life misspent In filth and floundery With thieves and scoundrels In love, in liqueur, forever Thinner; On rooftops Of dram shops, Subcontinental misadventure! And all that is wicked and weary, Terrific and teary, gorifies the graces Of the pages of dead men’s diaries. An ex-voto to the lotus Of milagros in the hollows Of bohemian bureaus that bellow below us; I’m missing my Madonna, Surely I’m a goner! I have seen the horrors of a life misspent In filth and floundery With thieves and scoundrels In love, in liqueur, forever Thinner; On rooftops Of dram shops,... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/The-Hourglass-is-Upside-Down-by-H-de-Montbazon http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/The-Hourglass-is-Upside-Down-by-H-de-Montbazon Wed, 22 Feb 2012 04:44:40 +0000 Pea Soup 2858990 <img src="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2858990/sous-le-ciel-de-paris-7.jpg" width="670" height="636" width_o="1078" height_o="1024" src_o="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2858990/sous-le-ciel-de-paris-7_o.jpg" data-mid="21908194" border="0" align="left"/> Jaywalking with friends in Paris our eyes are pulled up by echoing vultures, God, the cold november carresses and wrap bites temporary skin, unwraping walls and dambusting flows of imagination into our burgeoning gardens From these indian summer days, oceans of hope drip into our fountain eyes, drowning divisions within unveilling mortality, starving us for life we find joy in living not existing, living by whatever comes tomorrow we had today, releasing gin-eagles on rabbits of real, dancing under neon showers with unknown creatures dipping our biscuit-minds into cups of Art hunting for truth’s dust in cafés, hidden beneath revisions of past. I beg of you George, Henry, whatever is your name Remember the hourglass is upside down. And wake. Jaywalking with friends in Paris our eyes are pulled up by echoing vultures, God, the cold november carresses and wrap bites temporary skin, unwraping walls and... http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/Using-the-First-Person-by-J-Hargreaves http://cargocollective.com/peasoup/following/peasoup/Using-the-First-Person-by-J-Hargreaves Wed, 22 Feb 2012 04:36:37 +0000 Pea Soup 2858976 <img src="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2858976/429_vignette_Self-Portrait-1988.jpg" width="582" height="730" width_o="582" height_o="730" src_o="http://payload27.cargocollective.com/1/6/205834/2858976/429_vignette_Self-Portrait-1988_o.jpg" data-mid="21908232" border="0" align="left"/> “The violet swirls, purple beams, and glowing coils of the stressed eye…” I hasn’t presented a test – as any personal relations manager won’t confess, with bared knuckle on belt buckle, regardless of regular rooking, in the compressed conveniences of a sterilised Lutèce, a hotel lunatic with the congress of those kidnapped by bon vivant duress where he’s glugging the larynx of a waitress ill informed as to his more or less ho-hum middle-class address in the grandiose quorum of available egress as much as he is of his bad press for failing to guess the brass tacks of her breasts or the ennui under her exorbitant dress or the hardscrabble jest of her carefully concealed family crest, or as any tapette thesp, like a recently transgressed kobold blessed with the hokum of Hesse, falls to his Cokes, makes an endearing mess, demonstrates dexterous finesse in his whittling away a Vogue whilst jimmying the jessed bootstraps and lycraed contest of inguen belonging to whomever acquiesced, in this case, a success- obsessed dilettante dispossessed of her formerly Andressesque qu’est- ce que c’est carriage, who once impressed playing demure noblesse in acclaimed drama, but nonetheless deals with her failing zest by declining salads to better reassess the raffish fluoresce of looted shooter, and aggress her tchotchke-crotch in a nest of eager fingers, and a runny yes, II like the yes of the yes men of le roi soleil that witness the proud tumesce of Lully’s operose abscess that ultimately loses the exiguous interest of the royal at rest despite pulling out his best moves, invests in sweating sweat of wet juvenilia, obsessed with gangrenous graces lest he become a pest, or Abelard’s pardon in a chess- board of theologist-lust, a quest to molest the learned draws of the abbess suppressed in view of the repossessed libido at Fulbert’s request that no NHS desk clerk could attest to have ever reversed, his desire deliquesced to make pious distressed libertines and repress the endless almost soundless cloistered tenderheartedness of his mistress III not a contact lens length from the madness of Munch’s smutch of a peeper, undressed for crepuscular colours to coalesce, but losing his sense of aqueous humour, id est balling sludge on his mattress, the watercress of his androgenic mop, and the mucky vest he won’t bequest to invisible Fips, who can’t express his primal want, and resents this absent largesse as much as he would be unimpressed if he acquiesced at the behest of his depressed maître de tristesse to a work-in-progress invite at the Freia chocolate factory – unless: shy bones are free of politesse, miners take up arms, and express a want to pay a prophetess in pickaxes, a minidress means more than wage in the west, hours outweigh stars, and progress turns statesmen stale; the battledress of all my I’s lined up, abreast. “The violet swirls, purple beams, and glowing coils of the stressed eye…” I hasn’t presented a test – as any...