Poetry of Stefan Schulz
Install Theme

stefansir:

In his face rested an expression
that seemed about with flight.

He deliberately held his ground,
and held open his caviar eyes,

removed his grip, freeing the rail,
as if he strove to emancipate

without his reach some pneumatic
trough from which he braved asleep.

viperslang:

Welcome to Cyberhex V1.0 : The Shamanic Narcotic
Featuring -
infinitesplinters
thesingersgirl
andlohespoke
tothecatcher
whoeverswinning
howitzerliterarysociety
mickeymichal
syntaxandsemantics
nectar-traps
ohgd 
dirty-soapbox
smartyrpoetry
mikeyj529
esn13
ohlookdonuts
indigenousdialogues
invinciblecharlie
kdecember
javacow
& some more breathtaking talent from the serpent slang of this digital Acephale as well as a personal interview with the internationally renowned photographer and visual artist kalliope-amorphous

“OFFICERS OF OUR GUERILLA MUST BE POETS.
THE AREA OF POETRY MUST BE CONSTANTLY RE-CREATED.”- Brion Gysin, Guerrilla Conditions

With Love,
Cyberhex Editorial Team



Beautiful. Thank you for you hard work and dedication Scherezade.

viperslang:

Welcome to Cyberhex V1.0 : The Shamanic Narcotic

Featuring -

& some more breathtaking talent from the serpent slang of this digital Acephale as well as a personal interview with the internationally renowned photographer and visual artist kalliope-amorphous

“OFFICERS OF OUR GUERILLA MUST BE POETS.


THE AREA OF POETRY MUST BE CONSTANTLY RE-CREATED.”

- Brion Gysin, Guerrilla Conditions

With Love,

Cyberhex Editorial Team

Beautiful. Thank you for you hard work and dedication Scherezade.

In his face rested an expression
that seemed about with flight.

He deliberately held his ground,
and held open his caviar eyes,

removed his grip, freeing the rail,
as if he strove to emancipate

without his reach some pneumatic
trough from which he braved asleep.

Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself.

— Oscar Wilde

The Versatile Vein

Whoever you are not I subtract from you all of all settled favor.
The composition when you look away from it is what you don’t do to it, perhaps spent (perhaps selfishly) on your heavenly delta.
Did you know that you were capable of birthing beauty through muzzle?
That the average passer will catch without blunder;
That the way of the Order should predictably interrupt and impair such Favre even as he is in ever-important line of duty;
That so gallantly, with diminished sense, a recital will be held or a greatly anticipated telling will be told;
That the audience that cannot refrain from his captivating rendition of a curb’s view will do as they will.
So sleep away the exhaustion of deterence—it is art it is love it is prosper!
Here, the spotlight on the encumbered night sky is at its brightest and you deserve to recoup.

Every now and then stop and ask yourself what the hell am I doing? You might be pleasantly surprised with your answer.

— Stefansir

Waistline

Offspring of None send value perpetually.

The drift of purport;
The curious unspeakable moment of time.

For the scape follows the land;
For the dejection fraternizes the object.

And the many lives of a dark country road appear.

6x6 →

viperslang:

“To write is also not to speak.  It is to keep silent.  It is to howl noiselessly.”

—Marguerite Duras

I created this space to facilitate conversations between writers, study and frame the dialogue that is emerging from social media exchanges & now I am using it to curate art/text/writing originating from tumblr.

If you are a dilettante of the Word, you are welcome to submit something or another.This is a repository of phoenix odes, of titan tongues, the bareboned leviathans of literature taking form in the catacombs & bracken waters. This is an accumulation of the minutiae, the conundrum, the ordinary episodes we swim through.

Oulipo, Post-moderism,Surrealism, abstraction, antiquity, alt lit, prose, poetry, storytellers playwrights, fragments, amorphousness : all received with grace. 

Aside from that I will be updating information that will serve useful as writer’s resources.

Welcome to the Caravan.

Mikado Mockery

Assuming I came into the
several tongues of the world
unbeknownst
but troubled of ipse

then and only then
you’re saying
I could substitute your glossectomy
for a virgin sake nigiri.

An August Atlas

It is me you want in your virtuous dismissal of orthodox wisdom
to Tyson
the seemingly cureless (& nappy) manifolds of the country
to which we were instinctive, extinct.
An atlas at last O’wonderful!
along where the road has left its faithful
(hitchhikers in reminisce)
to bathe the slender shoulder with their own adversary, hope-
less
rainfall
to arrêt
more
from returning sentiment of the surviving Earth to Earth.
In totality great totality imitable totality,
Johan’s clarinet [sic] plays per se a cleft,
a classic etude,
and I share with you what you cannot always comprehend;
Today I am this man and tomorrow I am proposed to be alike
but, with good fortune,
I may carry the monumental bearing as no other contemporary
of mine can dream to bleed (let them will with their admirable need).
Atlas, alas,
hitherto my thwart of all early embrace,
defying endurance,
the shelter of the heavenly affiliation around which the poets revolve,
you can wish for another escort as I but I assure you
they know nothing of all the forgotten places.