library shelves are empty.
the cabinet turns to heaven.
sly fingers in the swill

Digital World



Dignity walked into my Despair Bar, where I sat propped up unsteadily and slapped my face. Hard. Dignity pointed out in threatening gestures and flashes of my life projected on the barren wall behind my head, the trail of rejections I had greedily sought out. The Fetish Attachment's I attributed to tall and skinny men with bitter mouths and swollen cocks. Of what use thereby, my mangled days and upset nights, fervently mollifying, fussing about with the dustpan and broom, washing the same dish over and over, pecking away at a heroin filled door that would open just once in a great while to permeate my soul with that little bit of Him that perfected the addiction. And so I sat with this, watching myself, looking like a cheap whore in moving pictures until the walls began to tremble and with the shake of my matted mane, I did rain down from the sky a flash of brilliance to explode the dark and sticky barroom in shards and I went a'running out, to feel the sunshine on my skin. Alone.





Nelson Magalhães Filho. ANJOS BALDIOS 2009. Mista s/tela, 130X100 cm


I am THE SAME animal





discharge chapbooks

chapbooks/books (individual and collective stuff)...


digital breakdown of the poet diagrams 1a-c

Nelson Magalhães Filho. ANJOS BALDIOS 2009. Mista s/tela, 130X100 cm



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Man Ray vs. undRess Béton Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Man Ray vs. undRess Béton



Come Tie My Laces

Happy Christmas One and All

Blog Archive

▼ 2009 (1222)
▼ December (35)
durga on the wing of abomination
Xmas Tree
Dark Angels of Discharge

Our separation was a surprise, you're wrong. Reali...
J-Lo's New Pool
McRawlix Overlay
. Xmas little army Xmas little victims .
discharge 2 (...)
Anything I write here is a waste of time, amongst ...
Duchamp live at Béton Friday, December 11, 2009Pos...
The Devil is in the detail And God is in t...
Sally my own dearest darling, I think about the di...
No Comments
raptured by paper, sealed as the book, lost in h...
the answer is in the question?
Speed Xmas
Future Gasps
whhaaaaaaaaar'sssss maaaaahhhh hunnnnnneeeaaaaayy...
steal your pants right off your ass
A Year in the Trenches
The Grand Deceiver
► November (91)
quattrotitanicus (vomitus skink)
Waters from the Moon
What the hell is wrong with me these days? I feel ...

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durga on the wing of abomination

(this is the text for my new ep, which was not ready in time to include with the cd.)

1. BEHOLD the great EJACULATRIX, who is the sword of judgment, who is the voice of the word of the wind in the vale, who breathed into dessecated flesh and made it to stand and cower, who is the manifestation at end-of-time of THE FINAL WISDOM.

2. BEHOLD the great DEVOURER, that which remains behind that which vanishes and becomes present to vision locked in objective codified time only at the moment when the light is swallowed up inside itself and only the hunger which animated the want remains, that which operates through hidden conduits as the digestive tract of reality hidden behind the ghost-flesh of maya, the mundus subterraneus, the SECRET WORLD now revealed.

3. BEHOLD the great REVELATOR, she who removes the cataract of the floodgate of HEAVEN so that the light travels unobsructed through the senses and fills the hollow body now resonating like a struck bell without mass and induced into inphase oscillation, the transfer of motion through phase-space possible through the removal of all illusory distance, so that there are not two distinct pendulums but a single pendulum bifurcated by the process of external visualization.

4. BEHOLD DURGA ON THE WING OF ABOMINATION and behold no more, as there is no distance by which you are apart from the perceived, as there is no there which is not here and then not even a here which is apart from not-here, the distinction illusory, the lack you feel like a stone in your stomach not even obliterated but made to have never existed, as all she destroys being simply a corruption within your own mind which presents false sense-data by which you constructed an operant self distinct from the not-self, the vessel now to be abandoned as there is no more river, there is no more destination, she has eaten away all which no longer suits you, she has gifted you with this obliteration, she has torn apart this distance, she is not other, you are not other, THERE IS NO OTHER.


Xmas Tree

Dark Angels of Discharge

Our separation was a surprise, you're wrong. Reality is all logistics for you, isn't it? I don’t know where to begin. Nothing is really enough. My family has no mother now... herds of children, lost and deposed. There is no unconditional love. There is no any which way. DNA is masochism. Reason evades everyone I've ever valued. I can see the patterns.


J-Lo's New Pool

McRawlix Overlay


Xmas little army

Xmas little victims


discharge 2 (...)

Anything I write here is a waste of time, amongst the obvious fakes, the judgmental, the hard-of-thinking. I'm uninterested in the half-debates I see here; and I'm uninterested in your endless administrations. You're merely policing something which no-one cares about. Such vigilance makes this place unbearable. Can I bear bones you sometime? Can I earwax you? No? Then you're clearly not the screaming delightful you say you are. Now I'm looking for random compliments. Got my pictures removed. I guess I'll just go. Andreas



Duchamp live at Béton Friday, December 11, 2009

photograph by undRess Béton


All things, in the end, terribly wrong.

The Devil is in the detail

And God is in the dustbin




Sally my own dearest darling, I think about the differing, plainly incompatible levels of * which exist between us, between our distinct positions, that is; and I think these alone produce your emotional meltdowns, almost as a byproduct. Just because I know this, though, doesn't mean I know what it means, nor what we can do about it. I am, by the way, perceiving these situations as a problem we need to surmount. Perhaps you think otherwise. I want a relationship, and I want that relationship to be with you. We began as acquaintances, and it's been a somewhat lazy, natural development. But, lately, as we've both agreed, things have intensified. I'm enjoying this new-found intensity; but with it comes a bit of fear - at least for me. I still want you as a friend, too - is one way of looking at it. We are, after all, best friends as well as would-be lovers. So, your latest crisis scared me - especially when you screamed 'I want off your *!' Everything paused, stopped. I became silent. I’m wondering how many more times you might say as much. Bad things... I'm frozen ... up against a wall ... unable to breathe.



No Comments




raptured by paper, sealed as the book, lost in hell this is what past elements of seconds taught. 
now arms appear, the light is getting shiny, diffuses the cells of time injured by pressure of this happening.
 no resistance as what this else could be, but the pleasure of strained swimming in atoms of time.
unencumbered the next appearance was to rise, the legs would appear.

the answer is in the question?


by undRess Béton


Speed Xmas

Future Gasps

Discharge Web Site

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