July 2010
14 posts
The Troubled Life of an Unsung Genius
Andrew Wilmingot was born Andrew Wilson at St. Mary’s Hospital (ironically now a retirement home), Kedleston Road, Derby, in 1938. The son of Anne Ashby and local builder Frank Wilson, (who became very wealthy during Wilmingot’s childhood,) he was educated first at Ashgate Primary School in a working class environment, and later, as the family fortunes changed, sent to board...
OF THE LONG SOLEMN MARCH OF THE SILENT MAN By...
The coach arrived at Statton-on-Moor before the sun spiked golden rays through Gibson’s Wood and webbed the curve of the Guild House on Bennet St.
Seven Coachmen; oiled beards all, fully girded up in their trapping and pomp, stiff as any cigar, and as brittle, too, in the brace of morning, air in spiralled white burst forming. They tread a path unseen but by the early eye of the fishmonger, the...
SUNSHINE SUPERMAN HEX
by Sal LaRochelle
...
Vixen,
Dark with skin-dust,
Do unto the worm what faceless vice does to victim’s of lust.
I trust the frugal harpy of sin to watch fatal flaws,
And to grin.
I dine on frugal morsels,
Bequeath my faith to choicer instances trodden by the paths that gloat in harmony,
But never flinch from Death’s fealty.
Eat shit and die.
And in the golden morning of the Vixen Supermen
We...
Timeless Waves and Mannequins by Gladys Wilkinson
The shrew was confounded by eleven elaborate causes A finger muffin And a polyp of unmeditated madness Down by the hacienda nine overt cods played chess And smirked while the latter-day saints blushed Unhappy with the whole blasted affair she uncoiled a prehensile digit and spat at the passing parishioners. Gladys Wilkinson 1969
IV. WALLHAMSTOW excerpt 'Paradise Rex Press, Inc.'...
Drugs and philosophy.
I miss you both, you bastard.
And here, the Quested Beast raises a distant head in my peripheral awareness, and the quest passes to me. Faltering on ill-made stilts, I lumber after it into the city, the country, into my delusional world-view mindscape of angry self-abuse and wise beyond my years preternatural awareness of death and entropy – I chase, but the beast just...
Andrew Wilmingot site →
Beardism →
PINK TOWERS
by Gerard Pointon
Foresworn immortal enemy mine, the contemptible critic, secret and secreted in phallic towers of flacid pink pseudo-ivory, I beg you: Come down and dine.
My bearded father stroked my fever-slick head with fingers hewn of bark, gentle as a breeze. He wore his steel in silk. You, and your nib-sharp teeth, spit inky gouts with random and wanton glee - to loathsome hollow and fawning applause.
The...
Steel Wings & Prayers; The Epic of Man's...
Steel Wings and Prayers;
The Epic of Man’s Industriosophical Journey
Origins
The path we walk is not of our making, but of an idustriosophical nature. It’s an abstract but fashioned causeway, dictated by circumstance and time, learning and entropy.
Moon:
And what do you tell us now? What did you tell us? Steeped in mystery behind a veil none once were furnished to lift and gaze...