A Winter Sonnet

Live as a recital, 

Trapped in the shadows of December's sad amnesty song, An ode to joy! Written by the trinity concepts of fall, Months that stream malignant tears like the fading stars from the sky, Voting to bypass the bitter demise of sandcastle earth's season of dark emotion terrors contrived as demons conspire under shade of night, Proposing a vile hope toast to a forever twilight!

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

Loop Reviewed Poetry Theatre GOMA Take II

Part two of a Loop Theatre Performance at the GOMA review, this one written at home.

Beautifully witnessed,

     Contemporary living unshakeable dreams, too oft left single lonely stage of attention out, Beyond the mountains of stigma, portraying them as mere beautiful insecurity mannequins... Our sight is the disguise, of magnificent change your perception and heart lives.

     As if artistic wish capacity was docile, but it never was... Painting extravagant lip blossoms of budding smiles, forever blooming as happy memories, A new forever recollection portrait of hope, never to be forgotten,  Amidst the ache of our prolific social aptitude sight blemish diagnosis held over others, A test everyone's conscious heart of conviction should refuse to accept.

    Beheld in a magnificent gallery, hall of  acceptance's equality summer after the reign of a bitter December recital, how tangibly organic and beautiful is the heart's choreographed epidermis counterpart locomotion of a memory loop theatre's conscious marionettes, providing more than physical movement!

     If any eyes who witnessed had a heart, surely it  moved!

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

Loop Reviewed Poetry Theatre GOMA Take I

Written in the moment, 

     As the heart moved whilst watching Loop Theatre Patrons perform at the GOMA, May 2014.

Beautifully witnessed.

     Contemporary living unshakeable dreams, too oft left invisible beside lonely stage mountain, as mannequins... far behind.

     As if artistic capacity wish docile, but not. Painting extravagant lip blossoms of budding smiles, forever blooming in happy memory service upon a museum of faces! A new forever recollection portrait of hope, never to be forgotten

     Beheld in a magnificent gallery, of acceptance choreographed movement.

     If any eyes had a heart, it surely moved!

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

The Little Things

Sometimes,

      It is better to let be what you have written, as a short malady of words that crescendo into the mind, then the heart and finally the conscious soul of your readers. Let the little things be. For there is oft more magnificence to be found in a brief line than in a poem of infinite stanza(s).

     Standing at the blurred,

      No faithful to hopeless finger lifted in attention; Edge of apocalypse tomorrow, Where the reset of karma's soul caste poverty reincarnation system is blessed by every mythical god's well bloody crimson oil stained red right single digit raised fist!

      The time for equality on our sandcastle hell avarice swollen earth, is at hand...

      Which was posted today, a simple little trick of the vernacular hat poem, that might mean something to someone... Or it may not.

Only a handful,

     Of oaths ever make it... But the disavowed still retain their amnesty towards hope...

     So when toiling under threat of silence in response to your work away, write only what is necessary, nothing more nothing less, as it pours out from compassion's empathetic imagination engine within! But that imp-perfect line, can't be taught, learned or drawn, not really... It can only be discovered in context of the moment as you deem fit.

     For as the art immunization theory states that only you define your art, and therein lies the fluctuating algorithm of assurance, the courage to stand in what you craft.

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

The Auditorium II

A Place for performance,

     If you're like me, and your home town has no venue for poetry... This space is for you, to win back some of self decaying esteem, back from the beautiful insecurities, that you haven't quite realized are magnificent in your life.

      How we look at ourselves, it shapes us. My journey into poetry began as cathartic journal entries that somehow morphed into stanzas I now know are poetry. But I no longer believe that there are true definitions for what poetry is, in the sense that people can categorise an artists work simply to disavow any creativity therein. This has happened to me and I shall do my best to give you the tools to see through the lies people are feeding themselves and thus handing you.

     One tool is art immunization, a type of self-esteem or confidence, I don't really believe in confidence... That is a disguise projected to create an image, I believe in courage... For it is an image, a disguise worn to projected the created.

     The assurance is not specifically in who you are as a person, more-so as an artist and specifically in what you create and how you interpret people's criticisms of your work(s).  Part of that morale is clarity, or if you will, conviction. Belief in the art you are making is more than just... Or is simply just...

      Created to raise awareness of a particular topic through the finely honed empathetic imagination engine within or woven via inspiration merely to reflect the world around you or the emotional memory shrapnel ache upheaval in any particular moment of life.

     The Auditorium is a place for people to perform, get feedback, discover who they are as an artist whilst listening to other people perform or they themselves performing. Working with f(r)iends to create a piece, collaborating or merely getting some kinds words of mentorship. The online space will be open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with a regular performance schedule and competitions which winners will get awards to show their recognition.

     Whoever and wherever you are on earth, if poetry is your thing, The Auditorium is definitely a place you should check out!

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

Scottish Poetry Fanzine!

Well Scotland,

     Your poets are on the vernacular war of peaceful resistance path yet again, The High Flight is a new Poetry & Short Story Fanzine made by four artists uniting to create something the rest of the UK might enjoy. How do you find out more, go to the source! First hand account by Sam Small  On Youtube The Indiegogo Campaign is on a march to creative ends!

      So, maybe you know who scarlett johansson is, well she was recently quoted by a 3rd magazine convenient party as stating she'd move to Glasgow, For our poetry scene! Yes, that's right people the creative young persons masquerading as poets in this city have brought attention to it as more than just 'Scotland's Largest City.'

     Not that we're pretending to be poets, only that... Well, a lot of us are humble word noobs that just adore creating and reciting words on behalf of something more than ourselves! I in particular would only call myself a poet on behalf of conviction's onset within, contriving the empathetic imagination engine to write for a cause beyond that which is merely the 'I' entitled me.

     So whether or not you're from Glasgow or Edinburgh, show some support for your peers and those who are creating on behalf of sharing, to inspire something more... In others, even if it is just a smile!

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton

Read More

Tidings of a Poet's Bargain

It has begun,

      Though a myriad of mistakes have been made throughout the memory ache of this life time; Don't let those mistakes make you.

       Everything is in order, the Algorithymns² Poetry Project Spoken Word University launches it's 30 man spoken word Teamspeak Server this week end! May the conviction in your vocal chords resound in the vernacular of your poetry, as you channel experience through the empathetic imagination engine within, to inspire other to... Arise from inaction to their own aspirations!

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

Friday's Mental Health & Social Stigma Awareness Poem

Based in part off of,

Dapper Illness Seduced Devil

The Written Spoken Word Transcript from last night's Philanthrobeats performance to end Social Stigma that exists in the intolerant realms towards those with mental ill health.

Dapper Ex-Spider Skeleton Stigma Devil

       For many years of my life, someone very close to me used to tell me I wasn't worth a vivid damn dream, that I should cease to exist at all... Eventually I stopped listening to the ill reprobate in the mirror...

      A quarrelling piano tidal enduring December recital illness flowed like reverse benediction, Holding back the grains of purpose as the beautiful sea of insecurities sandcastles into closed sickness doors of the mind ruins all around the former being that was me.

A Pariah inside my own holocaust anorexic husk.

     A self phantom abusive reflection of a ghastly intangible skeletal devolving limb of hope, no one will ever miss you, fish heritage, not so near the ocean bed of death.

     Compelled in disagreement to condemn the bipolar third deviant-mutated-heroic personality succession Reich, Mindsharing unwanted dermis geometry buried defiled talents of well puppeteered newspeak soliloquim events!

      Holding up shelter under a bulimic self purged esteem, Clothing dripping from the mouth's recent single forced digit crime,  As decay begins to writhe inside gaunt tendencies, Chained to my childhood burnt long suffering watched in emotion terror silence offerings, of health relapsing porcelain criminality!

      Hours distraught spent in earnest anticipation of a redefining night dream cerebus owl curfew moment: When under the napalm amputated wings of sulphur diseased angel's hides the every generation heirloom, written on our poetic sentient conscience soul;  wish!
        A refuge we're all D.N.A promised: of a loving intolerance unadulterated family's acceptance...

     Nature's seemingly artificial knowledge, For in most trial home based cases the embed intel seems derelict of truth. Ringing our bones with purple domestic riddle bruises!
     Our communal reincarnated yearning of a grafted love experience testifies to this sadness...
     But the archaic clarity lore of optimism's structure architects must long sanity lost aspirations ago been released from their infinite ode to a strangely dim joy never found works of sorrow.

      No matter what ill begotten mental strain incapacitates the nights, My fear black dread-ful austerity sheep epidermis is a prison of opaque disguised!

   A guardian's blanket signature pillow cell, With shame walls stained with endless wisdemonic memory ache tears of fallen atonement ash, no longer winged mythical f(r)iends,  Invisible are my only comrades in illness: The seven lions of a pathetic hydra's psalm isolated angel!

      Tonguelessly scream mouthing an inaudible Mother Lord's prayer! Their misery hands severed cauterize bound by incendiary ambitious sins, Are vengeance signing   the unsolicited  failed edge of time safe -  tone scattered grace deaf lethargic hallelujah chorus of inhumanely apathetic shadows, Against the white social lie injustice stigma  that is Avarice's complaisant comfort distracted purpose!

     Bitterly remarking inside that I... I am a strappingly homeless at heart off my own presumptuously assumed arrogant epidermis sleeve! Mumbling like thunder in fright of being vane!

      A dapper self wraith of hope respiratory ill of conscience' breath rarely taken reflection, A solitary mobile devil's anti-acceptance subconscious trench defence against my illness: Denial, Lingering in the paranoid dark murmurs of disavowed ruminations woven in congealing spider's abandoned silken prey blood!

      Fragments of an internal multiple schizophrenic green over sleep's black screen text sourced matrix dream monologue! For which there was no relief from... A jilted shelf white li(f)e of a self deformation ebb and sickeningly thin skeleton flow of a emaciated secondary intramural carapace platform harbinger's requiem!
     A not so wholly believable diagnosis of dissociated identity, unpleasantly haemorrhaging: a war! 
     Hunting the scent of a F(r)iend's silhouette reflected in fire infused sand, With a spear grin tipped dialogue, Entitled: false dismantling pretence, My a-smile!

     Marking the shadowy impression with the scent of dried vampiric dried gasoline thirst vermilion!

      Thriving on lucid burlesque swollen no undergarment tattooed open neck unto fang spectral fantasies!

       At a loss for consuming an arachnid woven silk pill, A gentle ashen mind soothing future from a forest box of fire incapacitated fox wood's second narrowly wicked genesis verse of a prescribed regeneration methods to contain the shadow's self annexed PTSD esteem sickness!

     Declaring a genocide of disagreements from illusionary cohabitants, Abusing the affairs of hope's dignity, The combatants have forever put the self - libel of - acceptance out of action!
      Creating the sub surface sequence of expounding daily episode of regrets, Leading the mirror towards this creeping forlorn doubt twin emotive helix sonnet parasite of well contempt rehearsed humiliation and suicide harmonic guilt!

      Aftermath of a single skin to knife f(r)iendship attempt is this: A blazing steal singed wrist scar!

     If you take no words away from this, remember  the following. Not as lecture or unqualified psalm, but as a reflection from a poet.

Here is the adage:

No one can say they love another, if they do not accept them!
No one can say they accept another, if they do not know them!
No one can claim to know someone, for who they really are, unless they desire it! 

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

A Ceremony of Updates I: Project

Rest,

      In the assurance of a worthy quest! A project built  for Performers! Poets, I cannot say our time is now, but surely our presence is on the rise. Spoken Word University will allow poets, Short Story Tellers, those interested in listening and writing to gather together no matter where they are in the world via a multiple Online Auditoriums.

     The guardian did a post on performance poetry just the other day, it can be found here for those of you that would like to have a read! : Performance Poetry: Word in the Moment

      There will be poetry competitions some even with themes and templates, which they can edit themselves to fit who they are personally as an artist, especially for those just starting out in public speaking/reading and writing, so that they mould a firmness within their convictions. Allowing each artist to find their originality, voice and presence within the landscape of what their empathetic imagination engines brings forth. 

Such as this short:

SWU: Prayer
All art in heaven, Hallowed be
The empathetic imagination engine 
Occupation of green over black screen
Text based artistic originality;
For Change & Equality

All Art in Heaven, Hallowed be...
The Occupation of Artistic Originality
For Social Change & Equality

      Project Expected Launch Date is September 1st 2014!

Team Algorithymns² Poetry

Read More

The Little Things: A Winter Sonnet

Sometimes it's just the little things,

Massive metaphoric tales of what the mind's eye holds as beautiful or contemptuous aren't always necessary to inspire. Here, is one of several hundred 'Little Things.' Written and posted by Algorithymns Director Juton. A humbly authentic honest poet who writes on behalf of social change, for justice and equality world eternally wide.

Live as a recital, 

Trapped in the shadows of December's sad amnesty song, An ode to joy! Written by the trinity concepts of fall, Months that stream malignant tears like the fading stars from the sky, Voting to bypass the bitter demise of sandcastle earth's season of dark emotion terrors contrived as demons conspire under shade of night, Proposing a vile hope toast to a forever twilight!

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More

A Villain of Truth Managerial Staff Rant Infection

Dearest Animals,

      As 1984 Leaders you: suffer this Orwellian world under your equinox toxic protocol eye verbal stare of willingly abusive witness blind feet, Stomping the silent bottom employment's totem blunt pole of three month force(d) moral defunct assurance security abduction: rate of deposited grave enlisted shift yard parole, A broken engine blood 100% down, Production induced enslavement procedure monitored line manager up, To monotonously micro meticulously mechanically inhuman self-engine follow, Lest ye fail the spineless 90% scrutinizing hover sovereign attention over the shoulder employment days under the occupation theorem of your puny status ladder online irreversible storage updates of life.

     How were you given the opportunity to over sea people, when you have no soft people skills? Don't explain yourself, I'm not daft, University educated yet treated as witless as you attempt to micromanage the simplified documentation on the wall in front of me, in plain diagram to follow text, tasks! A below average primordial dimwitted teenager derelict of consciousness could make ease of this!

     You must have been a brown clause nose adopted member of managerial infected greed children of the cosmic hive profit only matters like sick minded reality alignment. Don't dare you begin to tell me the story of how long you've been with the company, that you deserve to be where you are. Nothing matters beyond your nose unless its the grotesque bear form ass of your boss you've been suckling at for the past age of your life, especially how you profess to care about employees below your social malignant stigma intolerance status.

    Dire circumstance dice, Snake tattooed slave rolled in permanent epidermis ink, Undeniably desperate to feed its lonely teenage wrong time offended sons battling younger sibling daughters, Both at captive home protesting this right of chapter life: Baby-illicit lost time sitting. Existing in the deluge of amputated shameless conscience man morality hole down managerial bleed out staff, Troll under the secret 90 day employment parole toll ageing fifty year work bridge, Holding onto the clause of retirement's age 55 early death restricted denied hope access! Stealing all its subordinate marionette's eternally supposedly equal liberties, Replacing them with a conscious green over black screen matrix text sedation, A hyper everyone must click link. All the while saluting a god wearing Gucci greed do nothing in the end goggles, who stores folders of fodder's files in a Prada leather soul burdened manifest profit destiny blessed bag.

     It is a thousand  leaps and toxic foot print bounds that you've found your way into this managerial role! A swollen God Damned the world inside your swollen buzzard all must procedurally follow the status bloated quo plague example of your hand chain of me command mouth spouting hate blame the victim speech tongue regurgitating hateful spite intolerance straight from your vulture skeletal white husk cross tattooed gut.

     How do you live with your intolerable immoral confident yet conviction-less, self in the mirror? Are you so white tumour inner placid, raise no compassionate finger, eye blind?  How can you treat the puppets at your feet this historically recorded slavery way, you repeat daily... Do you not see the fear for their ability to feed their families behind their subjugated submissive servitude eyes as they twelve hour shift days work as slaves for meagre wages... Does nothing give your gut an awful ache? I bet you instantly change the channel or walk away in rage that you've just intolerably suffered to witness a child televised starving, in a charitable request or journalistic way!

      Well surprise mother illegitimate power drunk trip f*cker! I get it, you've been complacent in this position too long of holding on to other people's derelict bulimic self esteem dignity in the top tier for too long, now 'Manager' is now built in. You can't see it's graft to the failure that is your personality, I mean to say that nature's moral trench is a wreckage and it's in part thanks to people like the lion in you, desiring to tame everyone in sight.

      It's a hard self confession pill of a rock to swallow, the fact that atonement's clause will never be yours. The epidermis habitat cocoon that is everything about you is against humanity, indeed you empower an early coffin grave for a young father, your yard is his prison. For the ideals your hope once conjured no longer ring any matter of profitable fact true! 

     We, the proletariat harbingers, are now more educated, adaptable and better at the 'job,' you profess to do. Upon our backs does your malignantly cancer spread, unfortunately we're too weary from our daily bleed grind to life the remnants of our fingers to supposedly democratic vote against you. We acknowledge who runs this world and it isn't our benign governments. Because you're stuck in an ancient vibe of process that's no longer necessary, our education system no longer needs to fill it's shell with like no minded drones once reserved for the corporations that desire their 'any office to coffee shop we own this space,' everyone mustn't be exactly the sedated same. 

     Save hum-beat the old-drum animals proclaiming themselves defiant still, as if leaders.

In earnest anticipation of,
Our Freedom

Read More

An Ode to Ukraine: Roulette Oppression Russian Dice I

A Written Spoken Social Commentary Word, 

By Juton

Algorithymns Poetry² Curator of Spoken Word Universe(ity)

Take the prose obliterated metaphor as deep 

As the white transparent lie rabbit marionette hole will take you

For there resides the honest self and the stage of silence.

Hospitable probe of hostilities,

     Failed dystopian conduit of guilt, benign of remorse amidst civilian voted half blood oppression cash torture suffering conduct in Ukraine's anonymous occupation cotton slavery field's distorting willingly opaque lies conquering knees paper clip seated upon calf ash gang cloven green foot remains; hands nailed to the throne of compassion's erupting pain, the ground before Putin's white holocaust Hilter's artistic iron distorted fist canvas perforated eye failure has adopted a second hate tongue language of control's second cold chance winning rogue hand war sequel as penance is ghastly broken string pretend marionette string performed behind a secret shade vale of twilight dim internal grey cloud bleeding under an invisible guise of inner heart never skeletal X  marks belief's dying swollen cycle sky spotted vulture belly of dictatorship's nether spawn cemetery minor chord over major threat  lies.

In earnest anticipation of,

Read More