millardboutiqueAlternative Culture

Zine Issue Number Three

Zine Issue Number Three

Where are the poets of the last twenty five years? I feel that if you are not looking you will miss them completely.Music has hidden them, as if they were runaways slaves.A recent encounter with the music of Aesop Rock has lead me to delve into this counter culture. I have included the lyrics from the song Pigs - and dedicate this zine to the underground legend. - Aesop,Thanks for keeping poetry alive.

Editor’s Note

Thanks to all the people who contributed to the Dopeness of this zine. Thank you especially the artists who have submitted work everymonth. All Artists & Poets retain the copyright to their works.

Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone.

Dead Poets Society (1989)

A poem as simple as form imagemovement

Carlos Mercardo

Carlos Mercardo

Carlos Mercardo

Fiona Kennedy-Altoft

11:33 pm - Boing

And yest I forgetI'm awake in a timewhen true things truemind things mindholds not so truesometimes minds things dobleed out intotimes things true

Microelectronics find the Universal mind Down therenear the Quantum stairsof wavy steps all possibilitiesinstantaneously therewaves of interference as waves overlapand a scene is seen inthree dimensions dreamholographic reality

Awake long ago some curious braindoest lie in nothingand eye the lie that tolddid forever and everand all the possible combinations of matterexplored and seen through all of eyesthat would possible existin space of time

ALive alive ghost aliveanimated time by choice alivein no time but infinite space we rideglowing spots in minds memory of alivewe live to love to learn to live to ride to go to live to flyand in this this true we mind only too so true us too alive and 2one.

MLTIIINGMDEHT

Peace and love to all ghosts on the planet -King Otho

Roger Kenny (aka)King Othello

Fiona Kennedy-Altoft

Fiona Kennedy-Altoft

Fiona Kennedy-Altoft

A poem as simple as form imagemovement

Barstow

That anger will that no thought comes and sputtering engine no mind no hope but FIRES BURN White eyed explainations another fist a dieing palm in red light darkness. Trampled grasses and seething waterfronts no burn. No trampled grasses, Quiet -- save for the clanging of midnight machines black metal insects chomp chomp chomp the fertile fields wrapped in soft blue wrapped in dark black wrapped in questionmark infinity

Peace and love to all ghosts on the planet

-King Otho

Roger Kenny (aka)King Othello

Roger Kenny (aka)King Othello Thank you Jon

visions of destinydéjà vuvisions of deathdéjà vuImpure thought machinedéjà vuand StrengthOf SpiritOneness with JesusShadow FaceDéjà vu

Jon Remembershe heard it on the radioThe last time the wave brokeDéjà vu

The war has comethe fury of men ignitesinsanity chaotic ensuesDeja

The Big StickStirs the shitand softly spoken men laugh and profitDéjà vu

Bones Blown Bodily HarmBrown people held downRepublicans freed the slavesAmericans pile naked Iraqwhile we steal their oilbehind their backDéjà vu

Thought Machines however impureare each capable of knowing truthHeavenDéjà vu

And thoughts in time do comeDéjà vu

And Fogerty Knowssome thingshmmmabout what and how worlds can changefrom peace and loveto death in vainDéjà vu

From smoking potto suit stained cocaineand how vicious slaves to moneybecameDéjà vu

But no Heavenexists but in this empty mindand empty mind space are all alikeDéjà vu

Maybe heaven isn’t a placeyou can gobut a place you can makewhen minds find it withinit just mike leak outDéjà vu

The way of heaven is Profit without DestructionTAOja vu

The tao of heavenand in this world mind is true.Déjà vu

Kazu Livingston

Untitled 1/5/11

REWIND. Record set, and thoughtconsciousness skips from track to track. Me laid out - see me threedimensionally. No! see me asthrough all dimensions, physicalreality, time past recorded andfuture-to-be sprayed out like bookpages on floor but in full. And all ofus, composed of what? This? Everything? World of now is madeup of point of view I suppose. Truthis embedded but nobody holds truthlike fact when that’s animpossibility. All seeing vision is lusted for and deludesEVERYTHING. Love perhaps butit’s hard to maintain when we neverunderstand what’s in front of us. Stand in the dark and hear the world.

Noah Levin

投稿者 非

投稿者 非

Noah Levin

Sleeping In

Coffee clutched with edge ofdesperation at 7pm and Coltranehas become my only salvationwhile the sun still creeps throughmy closed curtain cracks.

Only tired is on my breath andeven a homeless guy would tellme he could smell it. Evidentiallythe stench of weary can get me aseat on the subway if I weredisposed to leave the closedfortress of my home.

Lounging and I’m starting tosaturate in myself. Another roundof coffee is on the wind and I’mabout as useful as a piece of acneto society at large. If the grocerystore was closer then two blocksaway I might stock up onprovisions but even that dreamhas played itself off onto thewinds of gone and forgotten. Mytv and radio has become my onlyfriends but even they seem to holda certain amount of hostility to meas they’re obviously holding backthe best they could offer. OutsideI hear voices of productivity but Ijust can’t get my head around theangle they're coming from. Productivity would mean I have toput on pants and that’s energy I’msaving up for a blow out burst ofordering in dinner.

Play on Coltrane, play on.Preacher man has reached for thejugular in his evangelical preachof jazz and it’s the one thing that’stouched my soul on my day of me.

When I’m done soaking myself inmy own uninspired spirit I’ll besure to give you a call tomorrow.

issue 3Aesop Rock

Barstow

That anger will that no thought comes and sputtering engine no mind no hope but FIRES BURN White eyed explainations another fist a dieing palm in red light darkness. Trampled grasses and seething waterfronts no burn. No trampled grasses, Quiet -- save for the clanging of midnight machines black metal insects chomp chomp chomp the fertile fields wrapped in soft blue wrapped in dark black wrapped in questionmark infinity

Peace and love to all ghosts on the planet

-King Otho

Chrissy Piper

go buy his album

AesopRock

Thank you Jon

visions of destinydéjà vuvisions of deathdéjà vuImpure thought machinedéjà vuand StrengthOf SpiritOneness with JesusShadow FaceDéjà vu

Jon Remembershe heard it on the radioThe last time the wave brokeDéjà vu

The war has comethe fury of men ignitesinsanity chaotic ensuesDeja

The Big StickStirs the shitand softly spoken men laugh and profitDéjà vu

Bones Blown Bodily HarmBrown people held downRepublicans freed the slavesAmericans pile naked Iraqwhile we steal their oilbehind their backDéjà vu

PIGS

Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the gardenlocusts stole the groceries out the local farmers marketAll God's critters hold positionssome are violent, some are victimseach alive is an equal and vital piston I support -so when the piranhas honor New Yorkmy daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sportand while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wingsit all boils down to them shit soaked pigs.

The pigs, the pigs, the dregs of which I'll aim for -the gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakeholetwo-track braniac usin' the food and payrollto chew up and consume every cookie crumb and pesoand place a cloven hoof on the lucrative when convenientas the bourbon odor smokers' cough smolder off the C.O.E.B.A.If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his shiphe coulda snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfuckin' pigs

Goddamn pigs!Pot belly pigs!Punch drunk pigs!Take money money pigs!Loud mouth pigs!Wide load pigs!Let's make a deal...

When all the wolves in wooly wigs have huffed and puffed and blew the bricksthe skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs will rain up Fulton's newest kicksas mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomenesswe'll pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison.I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificedNo pagan or sacrilege – just bacon for scavengers.I will gladly seat you with the chickens not the passengersHopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice.

AesopRock

Never that – Wilburs multiply quicker than triplesAnd hunted truffles in fistfuls but it was all bells and whistles.Bougie this and bougie that – war pig or pussy catGlitzy to the porks ribs had to gold leaf the booby traps.Powder pink, double-breasted mess of mud and moneyWaddle to the fire to make his stubborn tummy roggleI'm all "I don't really know the working details of your tribesI know that that's one ugly fuckin tie,asshole" pigs

Goddamn pigs!Pot belly pigs!Punch drunk pigs!Take money money pigs!Loud mouth pigs!Wide load pigs!Let's make a deal...

Apple in his mouth, maraschino eyesParty like the butcher boy's cleaver is aliveI mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winterto see the county fair's blue ribbon winner is dinnerthen dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morningas the misery was dormant indignant in crispy portionsCorporates fund alarm and they whore 'emOr does he whore to corporates to expand the more important forums for 'em?

Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchardwhen the frilly borders faded is the product mine or yours, pig?Mine, plus I toss a token where I go –directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow.This little piggy went to the market with a targetand will subsequently know the armor piercing forks of farmers.Final words for the finer birds taking notes:I dig a chick in pigtails "that's all, folks!"

Goddamn pigs!Pot belly pigs!Punch drunk pigs!Take money money pigs!Loud mouth pigs!Wide load pigs!Let's make a deal...

(continued)

AesopRock*

Never that – Wilburs multiply quicker than triplesAnd hunted truffles in fistfuls but it was all bells and whistles.Bougie this and bougie that – war pig or pussy catGlitzy to the porks ribs had to gold leaf the booby traps.Powder pink, double-breasted mess of mud and moneyWaddle to the fire to make his stubborn tummy roggleI'm all "I don't really know the working details of your tribesI know that that's one ugly fuckin tie,asshole" pigs

Goddamn pigs!Pot belly pigs!Punch drunk pigs!Take money money pigs!Loud mouth pigs!Wide load pigs!Let's make a deal...

Apple in his mouth, maraschino eyesParty like the butcher boy's cleaver is aliveI mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winterto see the county fair's blue ribbon winner is dinnerthen dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morningas the misery was dormant indignant in crispy portionsCorporates fund alarm and they whore 'emOr does he whore to corporates to expand the more important forums for 'em?

Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchardwhen the frilly borders faded is the product mine or yours, pig?Mine, plus I toss a token where I go –directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow.This little piggy went to the market with a targetand will subsequently know the armor piercing forks of farmers.Final words for the finer birds taking notes:I dig a chick in pigtails "that's all, folks!"

Goddamn pigs!Pot belly pigs!Punch drunk pigs!Take money money pigs!Loud mouth pigs!Wide load pigs!Let's make a deal...

MAO YANYANG

Techno InstaSociety(The Disjointed Union)

What is it you wanted to say? A thousand voices joined into disunion.Nothing for today. No meat on the table.No voice on the radio. Reviews and self satisfaction screamin millions of digital voices. Blog your thoughts.Be the generation of me.Be the generation that fell intonostalgic dream. Pillows ofyesterday suffocate voice, disjointedapproval lays the land bare.

Entertainment available to everyonebut the food on my table costs morethen I can pay. Blood for blood. Will slides away into happiness. Let me view yesterday on my computer again and I’ll inject the internet into my veins. Doped upcyber-dreams glazes will to doanything.

Say our independence all togethernow, agree on nothing or settle forself serving slaps on the back.Grass roots points to aimless wanderings. Don Quixote says signup! Sign Up! Forum rules into clamor pit of millions where nonerise to the top.

World collapse and we can readabout it on the AP wire in minute news. Watch instantaneous knee jerk reaction:

Long term goals no longer exists.Voice no longer exists. A scream amongst a million doesn’t exist. Placation is supreme!

DIGITIZE YOUR NOSTALGIA.

Who are we?

Noah Levin

Arlene Andrades

Small Mercies

Oh glorious Agony,Oh merciful Love,

My heart is breaking kindly and so politely.

My tears are private ornaments.

My dream is slow and limping.

My hands are soft and empty.

Oh beautiful Pain,Oh Love,

If my heart must be broken, let it be broken quickly and quietly.A merciful death.

I can almost hear it now.

投稿者 非

AesopRock*

Lädy Millard

YarrowSlaps

BROWN

late night streets fueled by "the life"

smells of meat morsels tender cooked in the air

beats in the background , the latest styles will appear

cops come rushing for the exact thing that they fear…brown! _________

the color of the wings on terodactyl's

brown, represents all things natural

brown , underneath everything grown

brown, a state of mind but where i call home

brown, the struggle that we fight on the daily

more than black and white , more than what they telling

years backed up on a single file drive

but never could they steal the strength inside

brown, more than one culture, one group

more than one arrow - one gun - one troop

brown, the warrior in the bush walking silent

leaving no footprints and standin' up defiant

size ain't everything when you feel like a giant

emotions at bay don't gota get things violent

brown, hard work and energy spent

brown always finds a way to pay their rent

brown , inventors of the hustle , the muscle; and we got majority in numbers

yo its kind of scary when you know your own power

infrastructure says that the base is the tower - YS

Lädy Millard

Aire -

I am the artist I play

paint for hours

until I lay something down on that

buy me my bread and butter.

Lay downfor hours until that paint escapes

my vessel

blood, heart, sweat. I law down for the canvas

and kneel.Blood vessel bursts.

I lay down so that I can be as clear as water .

Laying down color over coloreds.

I law down so that no onehas to see me.

I am “Aire” .

DavidAcevedo

Moon Haiku

Red eyed lovera stone turned overinside flames

The moon in cloudstucked like thecat in pillows

Frosted skiescutting cloudswith blades of light

Bouquet of pinsresting on lavenderwith burning coal

Blooded imagefrom positionmy moon is yours too

I love you low and sinkingOrion stapled to the skyburning through time

Techno InstaSociety(The Disjointed Union)

What is it you wanted to say? A thousand voices joined into disunion.Nothing for today. No meat on the table.No voice on the radio. Reviews and self satisfaction screamin millions of digital voices. Blog your thoughts.Be the generation of me.Be the generation that fell intonostalgic dream. Pillows ofyesterday suffocate voice, disjointedapproval lays the land bare.

Entertainment available to everyonebut the food on my table costs morethen I can pay. Blood for blood. Will slides away into happiness. Let me view yesterday on my computer again and I’ll inject the internet into my veins. Doped upcyber-dreams glazes will to doanything.

Say our independence all togethernow, agree on nothing or settle forself serving slaps on the back.Grass roots points to aimless wanderings. Don Quixote says signup! Sign Up! Forum rules into clamor pit of millions where nonerise to the top.

World collapse and we can readabout it on the AP wire in minute news. Watch instantaneous knee jerk reaction:

Long term goals no longer exists.Voice no longer exists. A scream amongst a million doesn’t exist. Placation is supreme!

DIGITIZE YOUR NOSTALGIA.

Who are we?

DavidAcevedo

All the Loves in the World

All The loves in the world cycling through time distributing reality and dreams, the outside forces proclaiming once again that it won’t be believed, it will outrage, we will want to move away and on and on without any clear plan to advance beyond present day epiphanies, proclamations revelations or cover-ups-come-mystic-truths

What any one is doing is what is being done. Any attempts to stop any one thing being done cannot be achieved by one complete task since any thing happening, since its already been done,is composed of numerous qualities all working inside and out to create the effect that something is doing after it’s already been done.

What I do is worth as much as others who do good or bad as well as them who do nothing and just as well as those who do and do not. My dreams are rustic visions, archaic options trends and functions outcomes are powder ash and that is their reality, All the loves of the world screaming murderous wonder tormented by outside forces the intrusive evidence

Advertisements for another reality subscriptions to more dreams

And the reality and dreams are fitted to my reality and dreams whether they snap to grid, conform or should be tempered and tried to fit if they fit or can’t. And my reality and dreams no longer resemble my original contained idea of reality and dreams and therefore are no longer my originally contained ideas of reality and dreams as they have become to all the loves of the world, but they do not notice it, the outside forces coming in and dressed in dead bodies going inside all the loves of the world, dressed in dead bodies.

You won’t believe it, they say, name dropping every dream, advertisement and subscription And I wish that moving away were the solution.

What work works best when working if it works best to present the work. Clearly then what is to work to be worked upon when working occurs, then therein can clearly be the work that works best when working. It is clear and visible inside and out, the dead bodies know, the reality and dreams that have no body as well as all the loves in the world, they know. That it is clear and visible inside and out, what is to be worked upon when work occurs, which is singular compared to the cycling and distribution of reality and dreams, the outside forces.

All the loves of the world are singular in convention. Of all the loves of the world there is only one and is hardly understood making it very difficult to share, all the loves of the world. All the loves of the world are hidden inside and out and contained and fitted in my original contained idea of reality and dreams before they no longer resemble my originally contained idea of reality and dreams, like yours, before advertisement and subscription go within bodies, dead and dressed the rustic visions and archaic options, trend and function as they do work upon all the loves of the world.

投稿者 非

DavidAcevedo

Bodhisattva's Suffering

The black and white morningsdot my days startA grainy exposed strainmoving, meltingthrough

A light burning brighteryet never fully realizedexposure- just aflash in the pan

A dash with time and spaceYou know where I'm goingWhere I'm getting toHow're we gonna get theretogether?

Wearing a vest of thornsmy heart moves closeto pain, strong in weaknessI just am not surehow I get by

Color sinking in slowlydying the world vibrant flaresHigh noon's kaleidoscopeI see everything all the timeat least once

A bony leafcrashing downMy tears pulled outand mustache'shoarfrost caked.

Closer to painbeating fasterexcited and dyingClinging to deathafraid of it still,but what else is leftwhen life is known?

Enough war will end in peaceYou know where I'm heading off toI don't know how I'm getting thereI wish we would go together

Nights end like days startFade to black and lightWake from one dreamright into the nextA subtle movementvibrates everything

Lädy Millard

Lädy Millard(photo)

KateLevinNight Light

Lightning roomrelax in white linen with white wallsboom watch the roomand pitch into the silences into the darknessand shiver of rain patter silent sweet‘till boom look at the room shudder light reflect in tv mirror plays along the walls and falls back into quiet night, ‘till boom it’s light.

KateLevinTokyo is Manhattan Dreaming

Nothing but the click clack flap of mangaturning and txting cell charms jinglingin silence packed train—in one big roundit circle’s Tokyo of Manhattan’s dreamsin pinks and blues and yellows of neonperfect city of color and light and belowthe people looking at the candy ripples of neonreaching up at the sky where we circle andstop for more passengerswho file in silent serenity of New York’s daydreams.

KateMcCarthy

KateLevin

Manhattantown USA by Kate Levin

Under the night sky, the moon is up and bright above me as I wait for Bus at street corner stop,and the skeleton of a new high-rise zombie sprawls up to the heavens next to me. And the same can be seen on each block down towards the river—buildings that had lived since the early 1900s now ripped down and replaced with black and steel and filled with rich couples. And I see them, I see it all, everything replaced, and they're packed in like rats with their suburban accoutrements and the proper address of this new fake Manhattan, with repetitive stores, same chain coffeshops and condos extending from east to west and them stacked up on top of each other with no longer views of the river, now just views into each others apartments with flat screens on walls—and most of them empty anyway because they go to the Hamptons in the summerand their country houses on the weekends.

And will this be enough, finally happy to live in some generic wonderland theme park Manhattan USA,built just like they saw in Las Vegas; made of fiberglass and steel?

And not too far from home Brooklyn is dying in the same fiberglass prop trap,their children move in with painted faces of artists and struggling chic, but they don't play the instruments or hold the brushes they pose with—their apartments paid double,and Brooklyn made over like it's holding a sign stamped, "I am an artist. I am struggling." Even as money pours out of pockets to fund these vintage thrift shops, which cost the same as Madison Avenuebut roughed up to give you that authentic new bourgeoisieartistic feel.

No one will really be looking, I swear, we will buy each others lies and sell the image shiny and varnished, just like those cool punk artists I read about in the home of my mothers condo. Financed by the wallet in the home of my mother's condo.

And pretty soon these walking cookie cutter lies will be all that's built of Manhattan—2D city rising to the sky. It's all you need now a days anyway,no one's really looking.And pretty soon we'll forget what authentic looks like. What our city looked like. That we even had a city,as we are pushed out, homeless.Disgusted.Looking for the inside, a place without props—we'll forget to remember what we were looking for.What it was that we lost- blinded by the shine of this new world utopia's glossy magazine cover with all of its pages exactly the sam

KateLevin(continued)

KateMcCarthy