•  Peter Sragher
•  Claus Ankersen


sus

Peter Sragher

 

the craiova festival poems

 

a sound to be

 

seeeeeee

to see

see

sea

see how the sea

sees

and sighs its

waves

through the foam

to the beach

summer-ridden feeling

sea

see in the sea

your life

 

08.10. 2010, cluj-napoca

 

 

no date at all

 

we have no date

to create

to update

your book face

or your face book

gone

 

do you have a paper face

are you sick

whitened to

                death

or are you made out of electronic

                                     cellulose

or are you tronic

                     tronic

        elec     tronic

     feel the sonic

     or pro tonic

 

     elect the tronic

     more pro tonic

     get to the sonic

     sonic sonic

     super-sonic speed

   

    update your speed

and make everything in a jiffy

                take haste

                be quick

                be slick

click in time

lick the time

from the lips

of your thoughts

                do speak

                be quick

                lick

                and beeeee

a sound

surround

everyone

be the one

one and only

be the one

one and only

 

come to ooooour sound

come to oooooour sound party

in craiova

in cra     io      va

cra

and

cra

io va

io va

 

vas

n'est pas

que tu t'en vas

dans le bras

dans le bras

del diex ra

 

rare        (french spoken)

rare        (english spoken)

rare        (french spoken)

 

rah

rah

er

errrrrrrrrr

 

09.10. 2014, vers bucharest, dans le train

 

 

Invitation to the Festival

 

on a day

 when sun is

                trying

to fend off

                coldness

                coolness

takes it's place

 

yes

be cool in craiova

 be cool and

come to craiova

be cool and

warm the people

                with spirit

                with not spirits

to drink but

                a wooooooooooord

                word yourself and

                be worded

                word-worthy

                William Wordsworth-poets-like-be

 

to see

the FESTIVAL

to smell

POETRY

to fill up with

SOUND

and       

SLAM

your way

to

beauty

 

buch, october 12th 2014

 

 

see the courage

 

                of a day

killing off lightly

                the coolness

killing with the shadow

                of light

                     lighting

                     light

                     lighting

the day

 

come ray and

                take away

the spellbound night

the terrifying night

the deadening night

                away

                away

                 away

take away

                nothingness

made the colour

                undead

 

morning

give me the colour

give me the colour

 

light

18.10. 2014, craiova, fighting for a morning

 

 

Notã

Creaþii datorate unei premiere în saþiul literar artistic românesc: Sound and Slam Poetry Festival, prima ediþie,Craiova, 16-18 octombrie 2014.
Festival organizat de Filiala de Traduceri Literare - Bucureºti a Uniunii Scriitorilor din România ºi de Casa de Culturã 'Traian Demetrescu' a Municipiului Craiova.

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Claus Ankersen

 

A jailbirds song of freedom

Versiunea în limba românã

Put me in jail
like the Pussy Riot girl
whose name nobody remembers
like Charlie Manson,
like madiba Mandela for 27 years
or less, just put me in jail
I need it, see, because in this world
of women and winners
if you are not a billionnaire
or a bum
a jailbird is the only bird flying free
 

Put me in jail so I can be me
I'll do another ph.D
and write some books
don't let me read the papers or watch the news
just put me in a cell and let me be
with plenty of water and some books,
pen and paper, perhaps a typewriter
and assorted crooks, I can shoot pool with
so much freer on the inside

Put me in jail because I do not believe in your corporate nazism
Put me in jail because I am subversive
and a poet
            because I do not subscribe to Arbeit Macht Frei
or 'Your did it to yourself' or 'It's not personal – I'm just doing my job'
Just put me in jail and help me
let go of the illusion, shrug off the lies, just let me be all I
need is a bed, a table, a chair, a zink and a toilet
pens, paper, perhaps some books so I can flap
through them and spread my wings

Put me in jail
and let me be free.

 

 

Payback – or 'A sunny day in Eden'

Versiunea în limba românã

Yes
it is true
I am a fucking megalomaniac
if crossed or let down
or merely disappointed
I will kill all men, woman and children in sight
I will lay barren planets and annihilate
solarsystems
and you, love
I will slit your throat and throw acid
on the faces of every person you have ever loved
not to mention your own of cause
oh you...you whom I loved
feel the wrath of the rejected child
feel the spikes of my iron crown
run amok in your bowels, trashing your young organs
beneath your pristine fucking skin
and your sex
slit open perhaps
by a giant pair of scissors, a chainsaw or some such...
like in slaughterhouses
the way they split pigs in halves
the way I shall split you in half

No wonder you are scared
I would be fucking scared!
            You should be, be as scared as you can
while you are able
when I strangle you
when I squeeze every fucking drop of life out of you and watch
as the light of life slowly disappears from your blue blue eyes

You be glad you live in these modern times, bitch
Cherish the fact that you've got big, husky, sporty
academics
as your childhood friends
they will last a little longer this way
stupid shits
I know exactly how to trick them
how to pretend
like you did
that I care
such open interest in my face
such benevolent openness as far
from dangerous as can be, the slasher blade humming silent hymns
behind my back
beckoning...come closer.. don't be nervous|
Just DIE.

not just NOW but later. Oh, later after
I have had my way with you and yours and the whole of your kind
every stinking piece of beaver on the face of this damned rotten planet
- and mom. This is NOT for you!
- you really shouldn't read this, it's none of your business
anyway
I feel better now. At least a little. So where were we, my love?
Bent over the stove looking down at the glove holding your head
tight in the boiling water?
Or in the bathtub? Or perhaps outside, in your mothers garden
Do you think the sky looks different with the spade blade pressed against your throat?
Grass a little damp, still, eh..
Do you think I'll be able to drag you by the cunt?
Will you manage to kick me. Real hard. Perhaps break my neck or paralyze me
and get away. All screaming
so beautifully rightful.. Nah..Maybe I'll just fucking eat you
literally chew you to pieces
starting with your big ugly crooked toes
and those long, long, too fucking long anyway
fingers
I wonder if I could dig straight through the soft of your belly
with an ordinary garden spading fork, since
we are in the countryside, or perhaps a manure fork
will do a better job, it's teeth sharper
I could twist it around in there 'couple times
make some juicy womb spaghetti

You should have left me alone, you know
I never asked for this kind of commitment.

MOM! Get the fuck out of my room. This is none of your business!
            And besides, I am not nearly done
as a matter of fact, now that you disturbed me
I have to start over, so
            Where were we, my dear?
I meant a lot to you, you said.. had great impact on your life..was it?
Did you a world of good, eh...well
that's all over

And since you insist
on returning the favor
please die slowly 

 

The Twolegged Bat

 Versiunea în limba româ

It's daylight or nightfall, and you might find yourself alone, or in a group, let's say a close group
of friends
perhaps even
            close friends
                        family, or some such intangible thing and then soaring
from high above, or deep below
screeching around a corner
slobbering along the gutter
flapping it's leathery arms like
wings, yes, just like wings, the wings of a bat or an insect or NOSFERATU
the undead
            it will come flapping right up. FLAP FLAP FLAPPING it's leathery meat-sticks
and right into you, into your house, your auric field your sacred egg of light
OH yes, it will enter your sacred egg of light and it will suck|
It will suck
            stick it's long invisible ant-eaterlike slimy SNOUT right into your
sacred secret WHOLE
and suck you up
while it babbles, YES you better believe it and you know you do, because you've been there SO
many times before, in it's grip in it's neverending, non-stopping stream of blabbing chaotic
bombastic desperate and hungry, OH SO HUNGRY words, balalalalaalalalalaalalalalalala it will go
and it will hold on and continue to suck like this untill IT IS FULL and have had its share only
THEN
it will retract it's bloody snout, dripping with brilliant light, a rainbow of you|
and flapper away in the night JUST LIKE THAT so
            - Do you wanna go dancing, some in your group might ask, friends or close friends or even
FAMILY but none of you do, because your bloodsugar is too low suddenly, your energy gone, your
mood low, your head aching, your mouth dry, perhaps with an oncoming allergic reaction, a skin
rash, a new pimple forming right on the TIP of your gullible, naïve and innocent NOSE.

And it may look like an old bum, or a crazy barfly, or a very successful, middleaged woman
working with communications, a slim banker or a manic photographer, jack of all trades master of
one, just one.
It may LOOK human and it might also in some way BE
BUT this twolegged bird of night, its flapping arms looking like wings, its snout looking exactly
like your nose is a VAMPIRE. A 100 percent real, bonafide, in the flesh VAMPIRE
A PSYCHIC VAMPIRE, a nerdie gertie with fangs and an appetite to match
and do you want to know the tragic part:
It doesn't even know it
itself. The Nerdie Gertie, sucking on your energyfield like the COUNT who was invited into the
house, like you invited IT into your 'HOUSE', your auric egg, your secret of secrets, your sacred of
sacreds, by inviting it in from POLITENESS and what is worse,  a hollow politeness as tolerant and
scared of conflict AS THE BAT ITSELF
just like the fanatic, the holy man, Gods very own HITLER, SADDAM on a mountain of skulls and
bones sleeping
            like a baby.

 

Toxic Tuesdays

Versiunea în limba românã 

Sometimes on Tuesdays like this
I want to kill someone
I yearn to see the guilty suffer
the innocent to triumph
whoever they are
I want every CEO on the planet
with a share
in producing
distributing or selling goods
            toxic
clothes
            toxic
foods and produce
            toxic
            to be arrested and put on public display
for crimes against humanity
like in the middle ages
but worse
immobilized in wooden constructions
on public squares
for a fortnight each
naked as the confidence we showed them
I want to nationalize all the corporations involved
before the nationstates themselves are dissolved
all their accumulated fantasy money
impounded
and given over to the greater good of humanity
whatever that is.

I want to slay that great blueblooded dragon
potted deep in our heartpods
by those who turns unlimited potential into
brands and boxes and parcels designed
to make us feed the monsters and forget that we are the ones
we have been waiting for, a sample yes
from the Hopi
who were fooled too.

I want to kill someone
only natural when at war and at war
we are, fellow peeps
at war we are, fellow sheeple

It is time for an overall vote
of no confidence
of no, we do not believe in your good intentions
of no, we do not believe that you know best|
of no, we do not believe that the sun will not rise
when the last hedge-fund is slaughtered and the last interest driven loan
annulled for the greater good
of the free human being, whatever that is.|
But that's all Tuesday material. On most Wednesdays
it's a different matter entirely. I realize
that it is highly unbecoming, if not
plainly below civilized
to wish ill on the servants
of the structures, the pawns upholding
the systemic umbrella of
slave-planet-bank-world-consume-to-be-free
it is not-personal-you-see
to want to propagate a different meme
or a cornucopia of memes
a rainbow of systems
all speaking with different voices
if not the same
On Wednesdays, I know
that there is so few of us
that the 98 percent speak
for the top 1 percent and the remaining
lonely one is scattered across the earth
            misfits, renegades, artists
too few to make a difference
as anything else than entertainment.

On Thursdays I often regain hope
and believe that change is imminent
utopian sun rising
people joining hands as one
ending this abomination
turning into a flower
of unplugged rainbow wonders
but then again, Friday is near
and on Fridays
I go dancing with the other misfits
numbing my skull with industrial waste
a swap meet of spirit and spirit
lofty thoughts and green leaf visions
turning Fridays into Saturdays
and picnics or junk food and perhaps a stroll around the lakes
before Sundays turns into Mondays
where I often find myself looking up
at mischievous skies and looming doom thundering
in my solar plexus whispering
that the war is full on and that this
is the time for Tuesday r/evolution
right NOW! 

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