SPLAT (2nd edition), Sam Langer, Jeroen Nieuwland, Berlin, A Firm Nigh Holistic Press, 2015 – 2016. 85pp. 5,-
— a collaboration of  between Sam Langer and Jeroen Nieuwland


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SPLAT, Sam Langer, Jeroen Nieuwland, Berlin, A Firm Nigh Holistic Press, 2015 – 2016, 17 pp. – -Some of it read out at Berlin Camarade Poetry, held at Lettretage in Kreuzberg, Berlin on June 23rd 2015. This Camarade poetry event presented 16 new collaborations presented by pairs of poets. A second version of Splat was read at Charming Event, a Poetry Reading at Normal Bar, Berlin, 17.10.2015. http://www.theenemiesproject.com/berlin http://www.lettretage.de With tips of the hat to Stephen j Fowler – stevenjfowler.com – and everyone The parties suddenly found themselves lying in open sea-shells, structured to their lengths and sizes, floating side-by-side on a tranquil waste of waters, feet foremost, heads pillowed, and eyes bent up skyward and northward. A lowered and murky sky appeared as a dun-coloured ceiling, of little height above them; and they were thoughtful, and in low tones they occasionally uttered weird thoughts on life – John Cunningham I asked you please to cross me off your list – Bob Dylan, “Abandoned Love” I don’t believe the conditions that produced a situation that demanded a song like that – Nina Simone I like to stay home – R. Stevie Moore “Downhill,” he preached on “downhill, seems like the only prospect, from now on, if all the boys are beefing-up while we keep on writing lists that may or may not rhyme, lists of things we find pretty, like the boys, or things we cannot find, like the reason to push” – Juan Diego Otero, “remote grammar” windshield flat a generic insect & a nonexclusive vermin collide with the force of the width of an A4 paper onto a cabriolet s unforgiving front & only window we slouch on 2 stones of a circle, murmuring fake$, forgotten or non-existent, mantras. The monks float, cartoon ghost of a bright merry Disney Christmas past or future and pop, floatingly, out of our foreheads. Forehead. From now on, you will stumble across this world within the first 100 pages of any & or every novel you casually, or ultra slowly & deliberately, pick up, peruse, close read, or deep fry; the point is, foreheads, they’re anywhere. infinite tiling of frontal, foredomed, rearview mirrors, or non-existent, mantras. The monks & monkeys float their lethargic dream pipe, holy Channels exit our foreheads. In every novel, a forehead is. An archipelago of possible landscapes. This is the forehead, & why we are talking about it. As chains of aggrieved gladwrap spleens of echo unpack their sandwich sandwiches, it is not your public flake rumpling when the sky steps aside, polite but following everyone at home until their life dissolves because the map keeps planning leFT-0ut parts under the city where the color is different or something else, blinking ground-up death-dust in a thumb-tack tray Wer immer an sich selber denkt / Wird irgendwann sehr einsam. are you eating slave prawns, Books Make a Great Gift if you can avoid it we cross now to static, for more The ascetics drape drab dapper new clothes. down through tunnels of fire, into the blood caves. their attention the simplest gift of joy, that’s them. & a mesmerised knot moves public-faced on the cloudy ropes & a small cop. but is only pretending to be of something left in there. Avoided is on the ground, sooner than thought, to be under the ground playing the chess with static, each truth. whose is the round surface? none in the pants or stops, tao in all directions except out, well. I continue to fight these jellies in the cold triangle of the world. & in the circular world the jellies win, the juices go speaking disengagement, but beyond them the road where I stood will be scraped still it all whets wrong, bloody well free as a piano, though it will never get to feel on as far as Helium and the others know. Time must bat & rush time must bulbous shine & crush, mirror on the tool-belt lest we get away with groceries. In, particular, no. reversing. the doughnut. (at all) mess heavy don’t Begin life: there’s a stolen dog There’s 3 TV channels in her dystopian future … [1.] Pigs [ii.] porn [3.] & [4.] 2 idiots on a stick we were mean but / We meant to say go-kart happy luck you, someface else, considerate frontal lobe foreheads, just covering a manrat-mask with a stew of health polite and fenced engine heavy-lidded pot crab Suckling up to the day, mess of timelines. dawdling & exercising in the crap everywhere, the g.p.s. of your EUPD set to stun and vApe upheaval of breathe, the world through watered lungs chapter one, but absolutely.. yes no, ok, stop, i mean, good. really get stuck into the good there. Vocalizes dreamily: it was nice to have barely made you out in the mirk, the cloud bashing. only 1 year every year sings like that. like a dog smiling at a tile from now on you will stumble across this world. (& no yeh can t test that, it’s already in the fukkin testtube you luminescent frog) To come back ( … oh? ja… ? the ritornello … (!) ) thru the centre of the city, thru the sensing of the city) our Bodies consist of other animals mishmashed, horrible scenes we, made of gore. just think gore; that’s us both of us are cars, we manipulate our controls with prehensile wheel-hands; ornamental hermits Here in my car Where the image breaks down Will you visit me please If I open my door breezing toward a networking dolmen to be some what, Spokescreatures of capital defend the hub from rims the chats are bald and pat and slice touched no one in the final except daze butter on the control group uh branches to invent and drop always their leave on same spoke hole thru tent Why is the wireless this end any more Where do you think you’re going Wir­sind­alle­menschen! flood diagram at the other glowing (& without exception, we, perfectly, get on) inertial, riddled the blooms crumble worms digging placcy air turn it armour, mole-language, preacherly 5 tongue; ssssssssssssssssssseE€ö93½¹½³]¼[}}² Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers like the divine Miranda with those who for reasons unknown but time will tell are plunged in torment plunged in fire whose fire flames if that continues and who can doubt it will fire the firmament that is to say blast hell to heaven so blue still and calm so calm with a calm which even though intermittent is better than nothing but not so fast Dusk bonging past, Shelium spotted an M-16 threatening the ornaments and took a beta blocker – hey daylight nowhere right all over ° § € @ % & ? * the post-anthropocentric FERMENT of another zombie-calender tag rolls over one of us like the empty parts of water plated doonad nearly silence like the free cars there are in all waiting + the anaesthetised protagonist in all tiredness an abrupt muffling. blue light. so cold, is the machine when you’re alone cold the windows and street hold on a sealed blank envelope a sum where the living wander the curved interior of the zeppelin perhaps one of the übermensch’s bladders like food down a body, the antibiotic bits of water of all days that rose is to be hushed and eaten (& then) shredded by stranger wheels of crap social submarine echolocations the compass in the SHtrudel’s point, however taps inside devourment beyond satiety’s sedimentary ottomans in the back, BANGSthe lottery of life, hips rest at the stair’s knob like a compost the organised garden-party of the instincts is over there with readouts and celebration so spontaneous the lymph goes round the corner to an otiose booming in human rentacar to give back soon, teeth intact, mark on a rim According to George Romero, film critics were influential in associating the term “Zombie” to his creatures & especially the French magazine “Les Cahiers du Cinéma”. the trembling within all things. you don’t need to eat seafood to care how it’s produced you could be sold seafood without an origin story circles. the same fate. UNFORTUNATELY, UNHAPPINESS is not happiness Fortune scavenger unhappiness ≠ Unhappiness again there was something snapped in autumn i was praying the pieces wouldn’t fall onto me lotti says: “and who says that the unconscious doesn’t ultimately suck” &; “there’s a cat, it was born on the roof, & it’s not coming down it is refusing to come down” to bracket the rest you’d need a big bracket parentheses a Euro per pop I thought about never picking anything up again, but it would not work. the universe is so stupid it cleaned my windows and the floor with me, something down in my right lung-corner, called BREF. it was the other day, meaning today. things, once made out of worms, can’t dance anymore feeling colder and colder, glowing radiator in the dash i won’t die in this body it’s not my place, + I don’t decide who comes around. a place basically infested with towels; (intestines ‘n’ towels) an unidentifiable green frothing muck a health hazard in bottles make good sense on an ongoing basis. it’s my packet. being regularly sense-able like hell. maybe they went to vote… shrugging spiders’ eyes twinkle in the piss i live on the other side of the world, do not remember the last time i shrugged. climb deeply into comfort laps To ● ● Participants for this draw were randomly selected Your email address has subsequently won you 2,000,000.00 GBP (Two Million Great Britain Pound Sterling) as one of the jackpot winner in this draw. You have therefore won the entire winning sum of 2,000,000.00 GBP (Two Million Great Britain Pound Sterling). the power to digest earth, an advantage under inedible sky dinner dinner On the Day of Conquest nor will they be reprieved. ============== and liquid under water remember when the scenery started fading? satisfied? that’s what I thought I’d be & grow, growth; grow a growth /




A heap of language (1966), Robert Smithson

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2 thoughts on “dumping: SPLAT! (2nd edition), Sam Langer % Jeroen Nieuwland, AFNHP9

  1. Pingback: dumping: SPLAT! (2nd edition), Sam Langer % Jeroen Nieuwland, AFNHP9 | typischeak

  2. Pingback: dumping: SPLAT! (2nd edition), Sam Langer % Jeroen Nieuwland, AFNHP9 | typischeak

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