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Showing posts from March, 1994

Le Nouveau Rocheux-Route En L'état

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20. Mar. 1994
By Alex Nuttall - Bio


Broken, scattered fragments from life before…
This leash I've set and written to…
This life…
This hard chest-bomb,
Again.
It’s alright,
I feel a wind and a generous sun.

old wind
old window
old wind-chime
old winding road
old day

This old footprint, stuck in the sand,
It will blow away again.


Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Le Nouveau Rocheux-Route En L'état, Original Date: 19940320 –
© Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1994 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170813.

Making the journey forward is not easy. It can be a rocky-road. It can be difficult. It also has to be tread upon. We may not see the eveidence of travel because sand can be blown away.

Keywords: #Sand. #Poetry, #Road, #Journey #AlexNuttall #OgFOMK

“Le Nouveau Rocheux-Route En L'état“ – 20. Mar. 1994 – #AlexNuttall #Poetry #Road

https://ogfomk.blogspot.com/1994/03/le-nouveau-rocheux-route-en-letat.html

misanthropological study

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20 March 1994 By Alex Nuttall - Bio



infected by some germ cell From the penis to the vagina; Germ cell feeds and divides; It gets bigger; disfiguring the female Host; The male is not around, or is and awaits The sentence; Gestation of the germ cell-- Nine moons will turn... Germ is finally rejected from the Female, Slightly resembling The infector and Host; The male hears of the prognosis: "It's a boy!” Gaily the trained exorcist Expostulates.


© Alexander Blair Nuttall / OGFOM-K Arts 1998
© Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 - 2017 20170624 -ABN

Grandpa' Buk‘s Last Stand

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9 Mar 1994 By Alex Nuttall - Bio



A sad window opens and blows sad wind; The old writer dead over a new word processing computer; And young, giggling children under the So. Cal. sun;
What fun is it to die of pneumonia-- Especially while trying to re-boot the goddammed computer to expostulate ones last bit of knowledge?
The window in the air blows and a roach shares a sandwich; The computer still hums -- dumb, dumb, dumb, computer never booted and it never knew that you were gone;
But the flies knew, and they have laid their young on your last sores;
Until someone identified you; What did they care? 
Into The headline it read, ”Buk is dead, at last... It's about time.”

[from OGFOM-K #7, 1994] (edited 29 Sept. 1998)



© Alexander Blair Nuttall / OGFOM-K Arts 1998
© Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 - 2017
20170624 -ABN