C H A P B O O K

Dylan Harris

hello world

Copyleft

Homer, this pub philosopher’s heard,

created to sing The Odyssey,

but ‘only’ edited all The Iliad

combining Helene colleagues’ poetry myth.

These, the songs that began written epic,

became his world’s Kernighan & Ritchie,

are older than Christianity’s crutch

and every foolish looping nationalist ‘us’.

Yet we, we only hear the single voice.

Works, once published, are inviolate.

This fat respect prevents relay creation.

We adore The Odyssey. We ignore The Iliad.

With ‘copyleft’, not for the empty, hated by empire,

programmers reuse and revise others’ recipes

causing original and imitative solidity;

it could prime a time–long poetic chiro–blast.

Collaboration, writing united, is not the same;

each ego can veto the other’s invention.

A copyleft author can declare and decamp;

others may sooth a clash–cultural chaos.

This gnu idea, it bypasses the island man’s blindness;

he cannot stop a work deepening through

lives cultures genders generations histories worlds.

Consider the Mahabharata.

CHAPBOOK

Dylan Harris

Potato Press

2K4

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Some of these poems have appeared in Envoi.

Thanks to Kit Fryatt for her comments.

“Gnorts” is from the net.

First Printing

Copyright © 2004, Dylan Harris

http://dylanharris.org/

oh@bugger.it

Recordings of some of these peoms being recited are available at:

http://dylanharris.org/poetry/potato/chapbook.html

This publication is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike Licence 1.0. (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/1.0/).

You are free to:

copy, distribute, display, and perform the work

make derivative works

make commercial use of the work

Under the following conditions:

You must give the original author credit.

If you alter, transform, or build upon this work, you may distribute the resulting work only under a license identical to this one.

For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the licence terms of this work. Any of these conditions can be waived if you get permission from the author. Your fair use and other rights are in no way affected by the above.

This is a human-readable summary of the Legal Code, which may be browsed at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/1.0/legalcode.

Potato Press

Kettering

vents bricked dug to hell

risen fumes drift sins infection

i see entry horizontal distant

a road descent weak to hells mine

ill walk casts gods light

face rent the conjurers challenge

follow grounded iron rods of sinner doom

laid to guide me their hopeless

i crunch walk dark echo

the beast squeals knows me here

it comes roars i stand immortal

halt i shout a man of god is stood

when the trains first came

verdant land life more than seen elsewhere

somewhere birds flute their rapid haunt

flower aroma allergy fresh

their words names i used to know

these the last trudging heavy miles

walking home from thirty years adventure

ive fought built won lost the lot

all i have is god and memory

i stop inhale the edge the ancient estate

the childhood familiar buildèd hills

wild life recreated raced replaced

old monster trees lost forgotten

the real change is human made felt

people live more smoke mechanical

cities rip a rush run panic

dreary no stranger charm chat

ive found life’s guide doubts fey

no mock threat manipulation no selfish abuse

this holy book unwraps the world

all described dissected diagnosed

see find somewhere hidden symbols

discover compulsion underneath

no need for sinners understanding

the book tells judges i retribute

here shafts stonestill shock me

these tors these childhood joke and tumble hills

these history halls rent by satan

hades’ sulfic smoke rises

easter sunday

this easter day recalls

my youth me sun days

all shut

id end intensity work exhausted free day

sleep recovery saturn day

be anger bored by empty christianity null sun day

singing self fresh alert desiring cuisine invent

i could not shop graze ingredient

that art killed by religions null

i don’t force death belief narcotic on random neighbours

just because our ancestors fought

thank god thatcher broke closed shop sun day

Don’t Understand

This poem was inspired by the manifesto of The Revolutionary Front For The Liberation Of Macclesfield, whose sole terrorist attraction was the killing, by drop kicking, of two Yorkshire Terriers.

Geologists cannot explain the seam of tin ore which London Transport were shocked to discover under the Thames in the 1950s—now exploited by the famous Greenwich Tin Mine. The scientific consensus is that it got there by magic.

“Well OK”, I thought, “if she’s imagined some girlfriends for me, and got herself jealous of them, I’ll ask her out”. Her “no” was playful, but so proud.

If you are worried how to politely say hello when abducted by a UFO, remember the letters in the pseudonym “Neil Armstrong”, written backwards, spell the popular greeting “Gnorts, Mr. Alien”.

green

us–we walked–we walked–we–the–green

the–mow–neat bowl–neat long–sun–green

sunshine august town–park–green

see–she short–model light–touch–she

summer–dress dance–walk tall–me–she

twenty–eight actress soft–speak–she

happy–script daft–script television–tale

super–sigh nordic–spy idiotic–tale

cash–strong series–long career–good–tale

stupid–press drunken–press i–really–can’t–believe

press–release mock–piece why–do–they–believe

satire–true fun–too the–idiots–believe

see–them far across that chain traffic road

cameramen journalists crocodiles–all

meet–me mock–me mac–the–muck

believe–me sure–me the–princess–north

gloom–haunted gleam–haunting glamour–haunting–down

a–minister in–ministry the–minister–of–war

and my producer grins

his stephen twigg grin

Fugues

deer are stupid beasts

they run out in front of

go man go

man go man

im not a cannibal

i dont eat animal

right

what am i going to do

now

im going to do

i like to try

i cant deny

Pop Fugues

for Guy Fawkes

bang bang flash

for The Dread Noughts

bling bling flash

for Global Warming

bang bang splash

for Bohemians

dom domme clash

northumberland

weight heavy grey age stone

thick walled hunch house villages

nurturers of pre england

a dubai tornado marred flew to kuwait

a land air missile huntress counted the well worn expected four

got five friend or destroy

no cancel no wait no time you choose

your child is here

you choose

the navigators funeral

the rite shockhearted coarse grief paused

four tornadoes flew steam low

black crescendo

steam low

one but one but one rose one rose one rose up rose up up cloud up high cloud up high up high up beyond up beyond beyond beyond vision up beyond vision beyond vision vision

grief heavy grey death stone

thick hunch walled silent villages

nurture post war numb

Water

The Anger Of Water

Through the netting

I watched the physician,

resigned, prescribing.

He stopped writing,

looked out.

Shock drained him.

The sea had gone.

Death was arriving

two weeks early.

He fled, alone,

as though he could save

himself.

Viaduct

Where, once, the railway was embanked

a field of cabbage now extends.

But every hundred paces, brick supports,

the width of all four railway tracks, arise.

Look up to see, across the cloud,

cables for the rails, and cables for the power.

No trains.

No birds.

No wind.

in cynic adverati

the social lace of now has ants of sell

who work to place a toil in user hands

to tear a burst of cash and if a tell

reports a rush of sell is not or stands

are down the nice day fake of cheer decide

to push the sump with press upon the eyes

to shout the anthems of their ware in lied

and platted tune because they advertise

their silvers worn to want we users sarc

amongst ourselves the namings of desire

when invocations made are met we lark

a ware for get if sellers need of hire

the cheery shouting prats its clear the wrap

they shout about is dreadful very crap

maid

see you affront your eyes the balance scale

the civil legals dropped accruing foul

and flaw the high court statue holds the fail

unbroken in distruth so falsely proud

of rules to gloss defence unsaid one side

ignored is not a neutral test except

its just to parasitic eyes the bride

of parliament has kept her scales unswept

to concentrate on cleaning rules as life

is run as cause rotates to 0 as crime

gives history to gentlemen of strife

and rape the maid of law is shining grime

look burn the rot make clean the darwin glass

the nations moved catch up with us run fast

nation six dog

dog

dog dog

dog dog dog

sex mate

dog

dog dog

dog dog dog

food

dog

dog dog

dog dog dog

nurture

dog

dog dog

dog dog dog

place

you tell me

cunt

what i need

you tell me

im not allowed

my know

Regrow

Father

This vid’s got me, all lank and lad, sans clue.

So cold, it’s thirty years the past, before

the desktop factory. We farmers grew

the nourish people ate. Beyond that door

I’m mocking at, our cows and corn were store

for slaught. Oh, stupid kit, why curse me why?

Back then, for us to live, they had to die.

Son

You dange in life: when this I stark, you stet.

If dad you’d die, I’d saunt; but hurt mum get.

You sneer my am. The proud Dad joust you won’t;

by theorem live at black you do, and don’t

concede in ooze and grey I life believe.

Sad simpling. I rattéd jump long eve

ago; to enge I learned. You neighbour bad,

too ego proud, so sure, the acme prat.

But sod; for mum I could not lie your death.

A God of hacking times, electric breath

in life, I am. Your glimpse, I snatch; your fade,

I steal; my viral valkyrie invade,

corrupting, swanning back. You’ll only know

on die; in wetware crack, I’ll you regrow.

Program

If torn is body space

the spy, a thread;

if form implied

scout, report, enact.

If nano techno hit

defence, all set;

a net alert, a squirt.

If failure stats predict

the head, the heart, a scan;

to quantum store, a stream.

If body space, too much, is scythe;

to net, the store, a duplicate;

his be with this, an integrate;

chaotic life, awake.

CHAPBOOK

A Chapbook of poetry from Dylan Harris

Chapbook Dylan Harris poetry poems

(c) 2004 Dylan Harris. This publication is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike Licence 1.0.
See dylanharris.org for details.

Dylan Harris

2003-12-14T19:12:26

Dylan Harris