Internationale Künstlerinitiative




Facebook notes poem 1.2012

He stood in open-field, poured ice water on his head and froze standing up like a statue until the spring crows-galose-birds could pluck out his eyes opened.

THX, Arizona-diamondbacks,

THX, golden-duck-snorts,

THX, golden duck sauce.

Red brick lipstick.

Fores on the floors.

Gen-X heir-heads.

So many N.J. politicians are famous outside of N.J., yet infamous in N.J.

does the Red Cross have an artist-in-residence-post?

Should the Republicans be allowed to vote?

Will President Obama visit the new aria 51 in Utah?

China social networks via Internet.

From chains to change.

Best of craigslist, eBay, twitter via web TV show.

Don't talk “enlightenment” at me.

What nose one rose, hose another.

Geistpolter white shadow people.

Kong King Pong Ping Kong Hong Dong Ding.

The King speech or the social network?

Don't “poem” at me.

Undercovered bridge.

Three people arrested in upstate N.Y. for feeding a homeless person.

The concert to save N.Y.C.

MPSA poems, U.S. military.

The lack of talent is deafening.

Facebook friend - dropper.



THX, blond-pond



------------------------------------------------------twice the pipe

paste color can of mushrooms mutilated-.

Bad buy socks parenthesizing knob

Personality Charlie Elastic J

sk~ul so as to anti-art

bonedust "heats"  "dud"

MARYMARK PRESS Broadside 2012

"to the weeds"

original composition I fist 2 stone circa

ladder bird by remote control westbound tentative





attracted rap electric do dot, sputter, phrase;

steps offers kept smack flashlighter

Tapestries as-is ran whom toothpick time





this for save

so joyless

stare ~ $x

lowerlip im-


almost crooked as the atomic 9-string, thickets.

Hair up in space ... - Miller÷-Miicki Marsh

Lie  out and get  no face



[Inspector Milos] [white guy]

system tlatworm innocent answer spoken

to film spool



Dog is idle cool, tough

horticulturist chairs it

printed circuit 1 private

Glider yields a far-flung purple dye

Elbow in line the Hole.








weirdo mental

all of the

but oh. 1.

ground out premonitions strolls

Sleeve designer around it Essex by Zombie

for or against (?)

test ditch it!

Unexciting  buoy  hoot




dirt is dull no?

on the same road glue?

so-day experiments

gas pad warhol angular void ting tock tick


beautiful silent ramp

like Nobody's business alone in secret jackers

is returning cymbals uh

secret city plastic raincoat,

So now

Soon a 10 p.rn.

sign is there

the rotation gets "whatever this is?" fat board-sized



irrelevant documentary

flower green repellent tip a)

: = 0 no hope. That ... 3 r u 2 b Acaderny.

Anchor Invitation Things Mite Supposing Flip Unpublished

Nut-fruit Swell Folk road ofthe Film Co Quiet America

Country measuring

electricals see the way we face Death Tranquility

slow to change


Classical record set ...



What is    a black cause wax

deceased at funerals   on the part

flips a switch

in the deep everybody    nose



all in-between anyway to what I suppose


Mark Sonnenfeld

45-08 Old Millstone Drive

East Windsor, NJ 08520




H a   h a d   to learn

Terrific!  What?

no shit, oddities

You see on the walls

You see in the occurring modern


(I think so) I do

scratch my stomach

in the distanee

on 2

Another: (& I write

Simply get-out


simply dream the problem w / millions of

said-geometrical reality pushing and shoving

dizzy variations, and some fields of wisdom

a drag

No. 1

truth ( or myth )








audio collage

Oooooo furnitur

about their meaning

Clock-3. any

- ?



Lunch butt



I didn´t care if I fit


call this  false hope ?

Also  The pressure to

some degree under the

damp night  NE of literature

bums + evil dolls make it


white; solitary. The personal


the world is Out

gave the finger.  (nope)

Escaping.   5 c

underground. Loudspeaker


Cans Or b books ... Be

Barkers Makeup Edition  when-after-pigeons

Court sold building

"ran" its recall: Office is black

on audiotape generation

see it through narrator's !?! for FauIt







Mark Sonnenfeld

45-08 Old Millstone Drive

East Windsor, NJ 08520





 step stepping  stepping stones


a log up

stone is not sludge is bone

is ledge-worthy

crepuscular with quiver

 {stone dancer

 {rock shaker

rubberizing lawn moan

 complete pleat  replete

omnivorous can be( come) an acquired taste

gorging on rainbow

end of

 street of screams  only a dream away

fulfilling the stone

stone zone

the road

the path




dank  drool cool  dark drapery maroon  indigo blue

parsnips  a wind



barely a wind at all

a broken breeze

simoom swan

wind crutching




steps & ladders

a sofa chair




clump arrears covenant  illogical sap suppling

the diocese

caught in the middle a mummery a mock-up a merman meridian meddling a muddle modifiable protests identifiable smirked over


quirks quarks quarantine







Q: I can't live without you.

T: You always know what to say.

Q: What is the root of saying?

T: Forage.


by  Heller Levinson

301 E. 79TH Street, Apt. 27R

New York, NY 10075




The glee, the voices







Whichever ;


C  Eleanor  z.-------



staccato near a knuckle 10th


A black-cat beret


making Street tape,

Sunday slept in------



I rarely visit the orchestra

- a –



Chromatic classical music

practice room


- b –


the fliers are nailed to telephone poles,

and from a wheather signal

Hand motions and phonetics

g then =

it hears an .e 7 tho it´s ÷ up

- c –

Try again

signed Owl.



D minor

÷ as the times ( ÷ )

+ the factory ghost


(like the haircut)

the smells of burnt toast

Period trees and 64%




goes around in circles


Marymark press








from Nowhere



hits a


Cloaked teacher worshipping

bird feathers.

Don't take it sade

Waxing propan cannons

and an audio diary

Voice box

movie in the head



It is 45%


By Mark Sonnenfeld

45-08 Old Millstone Drive

East Windsor

NJ 08520





More dreams from last night, cascade ones, so no inner relations unless you are a psychoanalyst:


1) I want to know where my cats are and arrive in a strange garden. A small white bear is sitting there on the shoulder of a giant lady. She is breathtaking, has large black hair ands wears a bright black dress. I look to the bear who is quite happy and teils me he is on her shoulder because it highlightens its white fur! Still no signs of my kittens. A flock of movement appears in the sky, I try to focus on them and understand it is a flock of birds, a flock of pelicans even, but when I focus even more my view they are not photographic but cartoon drawn with an abundance of colors that blinds my eye sight! I am living inside a comic story I think disgusted and try to leave on the spot!

2) I decide to return back from this strange garden. I walk into even stranger halls of what seems to be a very narrow factory construction. First I meet what looks to me like slave workers, they ignore me because they are quite scared and avoid any possible eye contact. Second room is a filled with laborants in white coats, they experiment with whatever is available in the room and are quite angry with my presence: I am an unwelcome intruder! Some of these assholes I recognize from former job situations and I run away as quick as I can, disgusted by seeing them again! Why all these cancers have not died of awful cancers goes thru my head and I am regretting this reflection on the spot!

Third and final-room is full of naked workers coming from the-showers, men and women mixed, they all have doom and gloom in their eyes, look to me as if I do not really exist. They are all incredibly ugly, hair growing from every part of their bodies, even the femail ones! They all look terribly angry and unhappy, almost ready to committ rape and murder at any second! DO not stay here, a woman shouts, this is not your crowd! Get OUT,

pleaasse, get OUT !!!

3) I try to escape from this nonsense factory and come into an open field when I break a door without any pain or bloodshed. I check my own body in awe!

4) I close my eyes and try to see colors to escape the past nightmare. A labour manifeste text I cannot read is projected before my eyes: The first 5 statements are in black: the next 5 one are in white but the 10 sentences are all on the same blue background. I have no clue what this is about BUT breakthru!

5) So it is possible to dream in colors I reflect and then an abundance of strange and even stranger images shoot before my eyes in all the colors of the rainbow. I do not bother much because after all I still have not found my kittens! And a man has to do what a man has to do, it is all a question of priorities or not?

6) The most simple things in life are often the most complex, goes thru my head; it is the start of a complete poem based on wh at Mike Oyar labeled or recognized as cognitive memory! When I wake up I remember every sentence and write it down but in a reverse order; starting from the final phrase to first one, but it is all in Outch.

Which makes me think: Okay, I can dream in colors now but still not in different tongues, so I still have a long way to goI

One kitten lieks my feet, the other one nestled himself in my upper arms, close to my face, almost suffocating me! I can hardly breathe, so this probably caused this dream cascade, thanks a lot Buzzy!!!



voor Simonne

Oe simpele dingen des levens

zijn wellicht de meest complexe;

de geboorte van een luchtbel,

de nerven in het blad van een boom,

het insect in je vinger die me aanraakt,

de vogel die ik hoor zingen in je onderbuik,

een ingedommelde traan in een ontwakende oceaan,

een slapende kater op een schilderstafel in een kelder te Brussel,

en mijn slapeloze herinnering aan waar jij sliep.



Het wakker worden met het geheugen

van dit gedicht op mijn versteende lippen.

Het onmiddellijke neerschrijven of al goed alsof

omdat Buzz probeert te speien met mijn pen.


May 12, 2012


PS: NOTHING of this story has been invented, cross my heart and hope to die!


Guido Vermeulen,

Thomas Vincottestreet 81,

B-1030 Brussels, BELGIUM






around a drawing by Saha Khosravi from IRAN


In a dream I saw a young artist

from Iran with a twisted body

against a tree in a traumatic forest.

Both were crying tears of resin brown

without any obvious reason, so I thought.

Was the tree using the body of the girl as go-between

or was the Persian femail in a process of profound fusion with the tree?,

those were my speculative metaphysical questions of which I felt quite proud.

IDIOT, you are an idiot, flowers not that gently whispered,

or are you a mollah ruling in Teheran perhaps?

You are not able to see that dead bird at your own feet

who fell to nothingness from its now empty nest in the tree.

Both are mourning in common empathy

while you choose to imitate one of god's many profiles,

oh you pathetic little snob!

I looked to the sky hoping on some rain

but none came to my rescue.


Guido Vermeulen, July 2012







Mailart „AnfangAbschied-Ende-Anfang


Er lief suchend den bahnsteig entlang

eine rote rose wie eine fackel

vor sich hertragend

ihr kopf hing schlaff

als sie ihn auf sich zueilen sah

dachte sie unsere totgelaufene beziehung

und stieg in die einlaufende s-bahn







Hast du schon gehört

Der dr. k. ist nach Haiti

Geflogen und das mit 70!

Und was macht er da

Freie Liebe


Und seine frau

Die verkauft das haus

Mit allem drin

Und fliegt demnächst nach Mexiko

In ein matriarchalisches dorf

Und was sagt euer pfarrer dazu

Das leben geht verschlungene wege

Und du kannst sicher sein

Er lächelte.




Jemand riss meinen Namen

Aus dem Briefkasten.

Wohne ich noch hier oder

Bin ich schon weg?

Ein alter Hof wartet.

Das Landleben tut der Seele gut.




Im Labyrinth der Zeiten

Berühren sich die Kreise

Ich schreite und schreite

Neue Wege

Alte Wege


Ich schreite und schreite

Immer noch.



Clea von Dören

Wallgutstr. 17

78462 Konstanz





Simon Warren

60a Akeman Street

Tring HP23GAN




upon my dismissal I felt myself physically altered


I can hear the blood beating in my head

my watch ticking the span of my life leaking away I used to do this when I was young now I am old the stars were brilliant last night in the cold air I would watch the passage of Orion across the south walking from Tring station see Orion in the west at a different angle find the great bear over this house see it in the north Venus would shine beyond the window of this room or in the east in these now ever to be recaptured times these werent special times like now just like now those walks that 0230 when jets would scream into land over the fields or the town where the equivalent of death in life the part of ourselves we lose and never regain I would be haunted by the past of my past in effected selves slipping from my fingers each self was lost far no reason I would be back in the same place wretched useless with nobody but me to blame my companion in all this was Death know I know the ways of Death I meet Death on the road when Death is busy never speaks nor I the two of us are very alike we have our work we bend to it in sickness and health I was unhappy as a young men a middle-aged man what does one have to be happy about? Death is not happy the cats I see nether


the time of once beginning is a time of acute death as the old order shuffles off this mortal coil growing up in north London after the Second World War was like being on the retreat from Moscow as far as yours truly was concerned cadavers lined my path wherever I went those about me were speaking a foreign language to an extended had little complication with human beings I was very small but I knew the world had ended that the people about me where wretched survivors whose one instinct was to hang on possessed nothing about them to cause one to value them or be fond of them the reverse I wanted to fight my way to anywhere which held the spark of hope sixtyfour years later I have never found this place people think of death as an end to live a lot of people capable of standing on their own two feet and walking about our in fact death to virtually every stimulus their mentor processes are so limited as to cause awe in a hopeless observer such as myself I cannot remember feeling sorry that anyone died because to me everyone I have known exist in the nonworld in which they take no responsibility for their actions happy to be part of a visions cycle in which they prey and are preyed one in equal measure ever fearful of acting beyond a minimum required


if people are points of reference date cease to have meaning then viewed from a perspective of their interchangeability annulling a reason to remember them as individuals such is the individual lost in the crowd I often remember men and women from my vanished past knowing this fragment to be a random thought sequences of thoughts which in the present has no context and is valueless a part of the disorder of what is called progress the sea sweeping people into oblivion children are carefully prepared for the living death which is the life of the adult this is all society knows people outside the loop are spectres there is no place for them literally men and women setting the Big Issue in the hope something might pan out for them I see other people fleetingly never knowing what to make of them anything about them and mass of humanity broken down into isolated souls vanishing into the night knowing a meaningless present created all of Them will do for them and be uncontained just like now when times has moved on the part is over children are gravn death is at the door Simon Warren is dragging the corpses out for the wolves the mighty fallen the fallen got to be nothing but the fallen


we have decided to round up millions of men and send them to be murdered

if you do not answer you call up papers you will be put in a military glasshouse

those men and women who are sufficiently deranged can volunteer

this a form of paid employment

millions of member arms

millions of women make armaments

millions of women nurse the sick and insured

the war graves commission takes care of disposing of the body's

declared fit for service you will be a murderer

the United Kingdom will honor you

you can be dead and buried yet as a murderer your standing will always be high

men who are lucid during their last moments can say goodbye those blam to smithereens are denied this option

when you get back to civvy Street after being away for six years you will be regarded as movon heading figures of all political parties can take advantage of


you´d be doing us a favour if you´d leave now?

this minute turns exits building

the employee has no rights against summary dismissal origin Bangle

short-term contract

minimum pay

the modern labour force can be hired and fired at will these people go from one job to another

how do you think he got a job in the first place?

As muck as this form of migrant labour is beaten to the ground if rises elsewhere

the low wage economy requires a stream of employees if can manage and coerce which will never bite back

the workforce has no collective identity if cannot act and masse to further its own cause

foreigners are deemed more fit for this purpose then British people

as a result of a standard formed from the introduction of foreign labour the British have seen their place in the labour market diminished to an extent British labour is held to be a second best the Briton is a second-class citizen in his own country


United Kingdom citizens augmented by foreign labour bend to the will of the class which includes many foreigners into the hands of which the physical assets of the United Kingdom has passed the people who own liquidity want at docil tribe of people to work this asset from them and this is what they get you do not have a body of people who stand in opposition to the exploitation of the part of the British race will no access to liquidity this is a rast number of Britons and foreigners time and time again the people who own liquidity close the door in the face of the nohopers accept this they see their children murdered in foreign wars the nohopers extol the virtues of Britain being a military state estate of toffs who order underdogs who obey the underdogs rail at any of their kind unwilling to bend to the yoke of the toffs the liquidity can only provide labour for a part of the population the liquid prefers employing foreigners the life of millions of Britons is the closed door of the most divided society in the world from the womb on childhood is non existent for these United Kingdom citizens born on the margin the non world is very big in Britain a lot of non people don't get very far they die young while the toffs chewing handfuls of pills make it to advanced old age


you are going from here…

Well you won't know where you are going

you're going nowhere

you've got the state pension and nothing else

have you ever considered playing the poors or eccentric dancing?

These past time provide activity

they could earn you extra money

you didn't have a job when you left school

you couldn't provide for your family

now you are of pensionabled age

you bask in the knowledge any day now your health will fold up on you

your wife will have no further use for you

you are going to hit the street in the middle of winter

the Westminster dustmen will find your remains in a doorway

the government will save on the Social Security Bill

your national Insurance number having been removed from the register have you any questions?

how do you know what's going to happen to me?

I am Death


Corby in Northamptonshire contains areas of high deprivation

British people say this cheerfully meaning as long as I don't have to live in it

the class which is aligned to a world of self-promotion seizes every asset it can lay its hands on this class devers to every established order aware through this mean it can achieve its end

people with access to rast amounts of liquidity mock the pretensions of nobodies eager to bend to the will of a handful able to explore a nation of nobodies to the end the true insiders always come out on top

beneath the nobodies will a serflike devotion to the law of the land the pyramidal subservience relating to a world of fees and overcharging is a race which has no place in the above This racets the perpetual target of the nobodies seeking to profit from their fellow men

the nobodies beneath the nobodies like the nobodies crave the respectability of the global of recognition from on high the British temperament is one of nonstop adulation of moves if perceives as wishing to prossess but which are constantly beyond it held out temptingly denied to an extent the average Britons is wretched in the light of this mortification


human beings always perpetuate the idea they have of themselves because they cannot conceive of the nullity which precedes them and the life after them which does not include them they want to see in their children a reflection of themselves if you think about it this is terrifying what could one find to say about the average person in the United Kingdom? but but that he she wishes to drive the knife in deeper when it comes to protecting his her lifestyle and the thought of anyone else getting their hands on it this includes going as far as to war and every kind of subversion to achieve the end the divisions in British society are as great as in the time of Dickens all the while becoming more extreme and this is the policy of the politicians and the thinkers who advise them the people of Britain prossess no idea of themselves beyond material gain to extend those who should have stepped back from a culture in which the integrity of the individual is sacrificed to the need of a mask psychology aimed lower and lower at the crowd of the contrary buried themselves in selfishness and thoughtlessness glorying in what they have achieved learning itself thought has been coopted our culture is this culture if would be in vain to look for anything else except the fires of pertition


the shadow is of being unloved


Alone unwanted


the brothers fight over the inheritance


Wilde´s wonderings in Paris before he died the living and the dead has no wish to speak to him across the had taken up was now his undoing


Death closes awareness this state of being our insecurity what do we have left? Nagging doubt triviality morass thought we step each day X…Y…Z… they are gone time has cast a spell on you but for how long?


why had he loved her when she has deserted him? Why did he put all his eggs in one box? Death now is the preferable and he is alive how is he to spend the rest of his life?


the revenge of one individual to another the mists of time floating over Akeman Street people used to study my youth they were shortly to die the street bears they scars


the plaine is dominated by cloud the plaine of Europe in this environment men is microscopic the pain of separation lives here


post industrialization no work this is Britain a middle-class white collar workers find employment at the expensive of the social class deemed unfit to be treated as human beings


society has been dismantled

it is true rule of the jungle

this used to be a community it is being sold as scrap


the lower orders in Britain are chaff on the wind


everything piled up in the name of Britain it's a sham it was never a house millions exist in the social desert this is the same now


The lights of London

why do people down on their luck come to London?

The lights of London are a lure

the people on the street collect their dole

the moon about pissing their time away

there is no help for them but charity

a lot of these people burn themselves out

they go back to the provinces the country they came from

London is an open wound

the people at the Palace of Westminster keep it this way in terms of leadership they have nothing to offer Britain is rotting breaking up there are no Britons only a formless mass


the company used you when the company had had enough of you you got the push


there husband disappears into the belly of the wife never to be seen again in this way women consume men


The play is the thing you've got to push

a lot of men were dead at my age I remember for my youth

they wear flowers of the field

destiny plucked them

a prolonged old age they their spared

strange to relate

I am not in a position to have spoken to them since do not know they are opinion on this matter they have remained mute


by Jove it's windy

I hadn't realised that my expiring I should be so exposed


those that have only wish to deny others Cameron Clegg Osborne live in luxury

imported foreign labour keeps Britain running the foreign labour is aspirat it wants to join the ruling class


you are British you are not wanted in your country

you are an embarrassment

we used to hang people like you now we make your life so uncomfortable you lose your sense of self

THIEF BEGGAR MISTER Lord friend is the archited of his ethnic cleaning

the old remnant of the white working class hunted to extinction by the old Etonians housing benefit cuts driving remaining Britons from social housing the children taken into care parents a ward of charity


placed upon the pedestal


the frame of ruin



the brewer sacks the publican

the publican wears a hanging air

the publican has lost a livelihood and a home

look to the bright side

the brewer didn't execute the publican

the publican has come out of it alive

having a roof over ones head is not everything what is the prospect of finding a job when you are in your midfifties at a time of high unemployment in the recession?

Human beings always create barriers for themselves


Britain is a social experiment that wont wrong somewhere along the line millions of workers were put on the self the Labour party ceased to care about them



0214 when I leave the train my contract with death is unveiled in the sky


when shadows are longest

the tolling of 2100

what happens to the people who buy into the project?

You can be sure there is something nasty in the cupboard too right

Smith has given his whole life to the company now what?

He's got his heave ho

Smith has gone to pieces

his wife is bedside herself

the company is in receivership the pension fund is empty he won't get a payoff

the directors have let the company fail they haven't got money in IT

Smith and the others are sacrificial lambs considering the debt they won't be anything for creditors

Smith's wife changes the lock of the family home

Smith sleeps in a bus shelter drinks can after can of lager each day

nobody wants to know Smith any more


we only know chaos which is what our lives consist of how we can make sense of them? There are no rehepusals for life my dreams are chaos they consist of the multitude I am no one in the Throng


The Game

one swing of a street sweeper´s broom disturbs the frail sense of continuity of the fair the fraught girls haunting Covent Garden Piazza in the early hours


if we are concerned for someone who can fall no lower having satisfied our curiosity we retreat from a plight if is not within ourselves to respond to


the point of monstery unron is to service natronal dept

nobody in politics would throw a lobeling to people in need

the pleasure is in watching others suffer

European heads of government gloatingly watch Greece´s death agonies

Death Death Death Death


if something means a lot to us we carry it with us time has no meaning the decades pass in the recesses of the mind the person who meant nothing to others is alive within us


I was on the top of the legal profession

I thought I was invincible



stepping into infinity I shall miss you however I want you to know I will always remember you


where are once there was life

the shadows are longest years later

the lamps burning

the property I remember occupied by the couple dark empty damp the people falling from the walls in strips a pile of junk mal at the floor behind the glass panelled door


parting of the ways


living apart

lives apard

The parting letter

There is no letter no word

no word can express parting

those that live exist beyond a distant past of frail memory


do you want anything

after your miserable marriage?

Look at it this way

it's a release

be happy

you've no one else to please

a cloud has lifted


Tring is in the uplands beyond the city and its inhabitants are mentally unstable is suicide incest child molestation are encountered freely at its margin is the river of sticks


men at the point of death from starvation stares into a supermarket window in Tring


a Tring townswoman who has been stealing from a supermarket is publicly garroted


perennialy beggars sit on Hungerford footbridge appealing to those passing the underside of London is not pretty to behold dismissal eviction lead to this


The gloom of night crushing the individual fallen on hard times


Der Kreislauf meines Lebens wurde aufgebrochen.

Im neuen Kreis symbolisiert der Salamander den Neubeginn – er schafft eine Seelenerinnerung vom Gestern zum Jetzt.

Er überlebt im Feuer und lehrt mich das Loslassen“


Inge JunghFinkenweg 31

46244 Botropp-Kirchhellen



Der Tod


Die Tür geht auf, der Tod kommt rein

jetzt bin ich nicht mehr so allein

so dürr auf meinem Lager

so hager und so mager

er holt mich ab

er bringt mich rüber

in die neue Welt

der Rest kommt ins Grab

ich sinnier´ nicht weiter drüber

der Tunnel so plötzlich erhellt

es wird warm und licht

jemand spricht

heisst mich willkommen

bin noch ganz benommen

von der Tunnelfahrt

kraul mich im imaginären Bart

versteh´s so langsam

bin nicht mehr einsam

der Tod hat mich ans Ziel gebracht

hat mich begleitet


es ist vollbracht




Matthias Brugger

Unterer Lettenweg 2

88677 Markdorf

















With regards Imke B.


Imke Beek

Windvleugel 23

Malden 6581 DV