My Modicum Of Free Sentiment

“My Modicum Of Free Sentiment”

Where is America, you white devil?
Down in old glory, in a helluva
blinding blitzkrieg of bling.
And you, my flaming sullen Greece,
not so far behind,
with nothing to the table
did you bring?
Ah yes, democracy,
in which all votes go to the usual swine,
and to their constituents
trickle down the usual piss, vinegar and aftershave-cum-wine.

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Dada Free Beach

"Dada Free Beach" by Jay Schwartz @Jschwartz

“Dada Free Beach”

Wind crab – breaking waves.
Sun dried tomatoes lay …
Where do we go from here?
– To the ship of fools, my dear!
To the buffet of souls, I fear!
And you with the flippers, a beach belly flop!
– Breakfast is served at 10 to never o’clock.
See the reclusive infant reclining in the lounge chair;
less than hyper is he,
for he’s got plenty to play with in his diaper, you see.
Such was the day, panting in the yellow tide,
with two menstrual mermaids, a Buddha and I.
All down the drain we fell,
with a parade of spandex wearing hippos,
paddling like hell.
Now the moral of this beach tale you know must be foul:
always remember to throw in your beach towel!

#Dadaism #Dada #Collage #DigitalArt #Summer #Resistance #BeachParty #Trump #CollageArt #Art #BeachLife #Absurd
#SpilledInk #WordPorn #AmWriting #Poetry #Prose

Snakeskins

This old snake has shed many skins.
He can not take them back.
In fact, he has no desire to.
Was the old snake comfortable in his old skins?
Yes, sometimes for a while,
but in time they grew old,
lost their vitality and betrayed him.
And so, he slithered away from them naked.

Old acquaintances still ask,
“Where have you gone?” and
“What is this new look of yours?”
They spit “We hardly recognize you anymore!”
They grew so comfortable with this or that old skin of his
that they took it for granted.
But this old snake understands all too well;
it is just his old skin they want, not him.
And so he answers “That was just an old skin.
It is gone and I am born anew, again.”

Some say the snake is just a trickster and a fake!
The snake says “No. You mistook me for my skin.
But it was just my skin not my nature.
I have always been just a snake.”

The lesson:
Never chew over dead skin; you will get skinned.
For skin, like clothes, makes neither the man, nor the snake.
In fact, this old snake isn’t even a snake!
He is, after all, just a cool cat and a Dadaist-cum-Sartrist!

Deliver Unto Us Our Daily Pizza!

"Pizza Dada" by Jay Schwartz, @jschwartz63
“Pizza Dada” by Jay Schwartz

Light up the world …
into my brain,
into my fantasies.
Unleash it …
onto my train of thought.

From across the ocean,
you make a commotion
to preach your principles
and then deliver … deliver …
delivery is free from 9 to 11.

All you can eat.
Shop ’til you drop.
Deliver unto us our pizza,
not our daily bread,
not our fair-weather friends,
not our symptomatic-autonamic overdrive.

It’s the cheese in us!
We demand from them to please us!
Only that will appease us,
so they release us.

Deliver unto us our daily pizza!
Deliver unto us our daily pizza!
Shop ’til you drop!
All major credit cards are accepted.

Release us from this impression
of our daily oppression
of our self-repression
of our fantastic suppression
of our governmental pollination
of our unfathomable fascination with simplification.

Deliver unto us our daily pizza!
Deliver unto us our daily pizza.
Deliver unto us our daily pizza …

Shop ’til you drop!
Shop ’til you drop!
Shop ’til you drop!
All major credit cards are accepted!
POS! POS! POS!
Shop ’til you pop.

Dada Ausfahrt

'Dada Ausfahrt' by Jay Schwartz (Dada Bloq Productions)

How does one make a Dada Ausfahrt? Blend the following ingredients together: friendship, Christmas, exorcism, a psychedelic rock jam, balloons, farmer blockades, Lord Byron poetry and dada. But first, one must go to war.

Yes, it’s a dirty old shame that inner and universal peace is won only by waging war with the universe. At least, this is what happened to me and how I eventually created my new film, Dada Ausfahrt. I kid you not.
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Love Erupt

'Dada Love Erupt' by Jay Schwartz @jschwartz63

Love hides well in the shame of misplaced givings.
Love cowers in the face of a brutal ‘no’.
Love whispers from the dying throes of embers.
Love runs for sanctuary …
… and surrenders only when ambushed.

In the hope of what might be …
With the wish of things to come …
And the passion of a haunting desire …
Will dissolves …
… and the orderly becomes disordered.

Only then is love consummated.
The mind agrees and the heart nods in kind.
And the soul breathes a gentle flame.

Erupt appropriately at your discretion.