#produce
{{The Society of the Spectacle
by Guy Debord inspired this reflection}}
In the spectacle, within
pompous circumstances
wherein the entertained abide,
seeing our chosen side always winning
each as per
usual real-
izational transfactual exchanges,
"Indeed, it is only inasmuch
as individual reality is not
that it is allowed to appear."
brought to mind the starry night,
abstraction from one mind, one night
in a world lit by fire or heaven in truth,
that which appears above and beyond us,
save when we feel the draw, the inhaled awe,
in some once shared glimpse past artifice to art
for the sake of the substance confirming spectacle.
------------------------
Note to readers asking sense from my nonsense, what we do not say but be, in free entertainment economy allows me to think of any reader asking me to explain my will to stand by my muse uses...
Debord wrote his book in 1968, in French, and never changed a word, which helped me republish "The Seed of the Dream"
"In all that has happened in the last twenty years, the most im-
portant change lies in the very continuity of the spectacle. Quite
simply, the spectacle's ********** has succeeded in raising a
whole generation moulded to its laws. The extraordinary new
conditions in which this entire generation has lived constitute a
comprehensive summary of all that, henceforth, the spectacle
will forbid; and also all that it will permit."
— Guy Debord (1988)
art for all its worth in the medium we use
... to testify, ... and hang with Van Gogh
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 7:33 PM UTC
Now What I... " Produce "...
Is... Lyrically Cool..........
TOO Cool For Schools...
Where New Age FOOLS... !!!
Now Do Their Do...
Well I Mean... DO DOO...
That STINKS Like Poo... !!!!!
Nope NOT The Bear.... !!!!!
Produce And WARES....
That Are WEAK And Scared...
of Those Who DARE...
To Produce What's RARE... !!!
Goods That Are GOOD... !!!
And HARD Like WOOD... !!!
STRONG And STIFF...
Like THAT Good Drink... !!!!!
That's Smooth And Quick...
To... OPEN UP Lips...
And SWELL UP ***** !!!!!
of Those **** Assed Chicks...
Whose PRODUCE Sips...
On **** That's RICH... !!!!!
Like PRODUCE I Bring...
That Has... NO Bling... !!!
It's The REALEST Things... !!!
That My Produce Links...
I Connect The Dots...
With Logic Like Spock...
So My Produce ROCKS....
These Heads Who TOP...
The Charts That LOG...
These Producers Songs...
That Are WORSE Than WRONG... !!!!!
Because They Produce...
For... SELL OUT Crews.... !!!
Who... Sell Out Shows...
And Sell Their Souls... !!!
To Get These... " Ho's “...
Who Are QUICK To BLOW... !!!
Because They're DOPES...
Whose... ONLY HOPE...
Is Producing A Son...
WITHOUT... OB1... !!!!!
What They... PRODUCE...
Are... Star Wars ****** !!!
Whose Only Score...
Is Working Towards...
Heads Whose FLAWS...
Earn Them APPLAUSE... !?!?!
THAT LINE Fa’ SURE... !!!
WILL ROCK Their Jaws... !!!!
Because My Scores...
Are DARK Like SPAWN... !!!
Lyrically Drawn...
To DESTROY The Hoards...
of DEVILS Whose Levels...
Have... TOO MUCH Treble... !!!!!
AFRAID of The BASS...
That My Vocals Maintain... !!!
And The Lyrical Pace...
That My Brain SUSTAINS.... !!!
That PRODUCES Waves...
WAY BEYOND... " POINT BREAK "... !!!
That... RATTLE And SHAKE...
... Sidewinding Snakes... !!!
My PRODUCE Is GREAT... !!!
Like New Zealand Lakes... !!!
Cos I'm A Man Whose Travelled...
... ALL OVER The Place... !!!
So What I Produce...
Is Inspired By Views...
And BEAUTIFUL Hues... !!!!!
Like Those That Ensue...
From A BEAUTIFUL Moon... !!!
So What I PRODUCE...
Is ABOVE The Norm... !!!
Because It's... Born...
From SO MUCH MORE... !!!!’
Than Money Or ****** !!!!
It's Built From THOUGHT...
And A... SPIRITUAL Source...
PURE Like... “ The Force “... !!!
Cos' I'm A Knight Of Course... !!!
... UNLIKE ANY OTHER...
Whose Been Seen BEFORE... !!!!!
That's Right... BIG VIRGE...
Is A... " MASTER of Verse “... !!!
That's... REAL And TRUE... !!!
I've EARNED My Respect...
So Now PAY Is OVERDUE... !!!!!
For The QUALITY WORKS...
That I.....
...... " PRODUCE "......
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 12:56 AM UTC
Produce to consume and light your fire.
Persist through a mix of focused work. Permanency provides false hopes. Passion comes from prolonged desire.
Recognise your present form, for we are forever changing, born again through death. As emotions whisp away and our memories fade. Life creates new ways.
Aim to be observant of the unknowable, touching what cannot be felt, offer kindness to those in and out of sight. As our mind's eye flies. The universe is alive and we will again become well.
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 3:33 AM UTC
Blocked, caged in, suffocating smothered in pain
significant other feeling abandoned while in your presence
in your mental you're going insane
no love lost, because no love gained! thought after thought
living, but stuck in the past
show no emotions-because having emotions is what got you here
Finding a way back to the old you seems a far.
such a long distance from you
you know, the you that smiled alot whose face was once full of light
The you that cared and actually enjoyed caring
Soon those Deep Thoughts will make you realize what it is that you do
you make everyone feel lonely while connected to you.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC
The only thing that humans can produce
working in pressure is nothing but ****
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
#
Dog days of summer
How doth thou steal
Sweet blackberry plunder
How will I ever heal?
Cars passed fast
breeze swishes trees
As if spirits
Floating so free
A whisper they hiss
run faster than fastest
to grocery store produce bliss
give those blackberries
a little kiss
#
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
Bury the silencer beneath the doggy bones
that Fido misplaced last May.
Their presence is scentless now,
just like your mind is today.
Arms down, head up dear friend,
lines in the sand are only drawn
to spend your time crossing footprints.
Place perspective above greed,
as we are all suffering
in one way or another,
so give our children the chance to succeed.
It doesn't have to be this way,
swollen knees pray for peace,
take your high school daze by day
and let your mind evade the inner demons.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
#*The fertile weighs less than the barren
Exquisite fruits crumble placid stones
The farmer induces their own famine
Seeds may be perpetually sown
The costs of a cultivated spirit
are greater than its untilled counter,
yet produces a boundless harvest.
How do the fields fare, neighbor?*#
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
to make art that entertains the people that don't know
to make art that bores the people that do
to create for the ignorant to enjoy
to create for the wise to ignore
to produce something that the shallow lavish
to produce something that the indepth expect
to shape an idea that fools them
to shape an idea that makes you the fool
to be mediocre at my passion
to be mediocre at my life
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
It’s amazing how much filth and waste human beings really produce
which, over a lifetime, amount to higher pollution levels they induce.
___________________________
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
4:11:11- 12:38p.m. Writing yourself around. Claim ticket for many fissuring endings, weather beats and other written tumors in subways, like French films, and also has decadence- bright white blinding air falls and standard auto-motifs. Crushes like I built the car not only planned on packing it. Not just filled the trunk with four boxes and a bag of clothes but made myself responsible on the other end of the message, you will return again to the rotations of your childhood and the laughing will seem fresh and abundant as never before.I claim Sheridan Road and all of its turns. You can take back the night, I have no use for things I can't keep my eyes on, these quality treasures and true folds in letters, signed, sealed, surrendered. The most peculiar of the mix, wakes of the standard in residual unfamiliar outcomes of even the subdued yet idle symbolic thorns and irregular poisons that seem manageable for a moment. or seven.Lesser thans and greater chaoses. Long whiles in engagements and other battle scars hidden by the clock in the moon. Day trips to yesterday and 4:00p.m. you call its. So for your heaven and these nouns, be it the wire of this breath to slay sickness from the weeds and list the ups against an itinerary finalized with, "produce."
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 1:59 AM UTC
To make wine,
Grapes are crushed then poured into fermentation tanks.
Once fermentation begins, the grape skins are pushed to the surface by carbon dioxide gases released in the fermentation process.
I am the only fruit who has the necessary acids to make natural, stable wine.
My tannins add a bitterness and astringency,
But I must be picked at the right time.
My acidity and sweetness must be zen in balance.
The right ones are sorted through, but not all of us make the cut.
Unable to be served as sweet wine, too bitter.
Some more sweet, not bitter enough.
Simply picked at the wrong time, their peak unwanted, forgotten.
After being sorted we are destemmed and crushed.
Our roots ripped from us, dignity stomped upon.
For years, it was done manually, by foot.
Now, preformed mechanically, systematically.
But hey!
"Mechanical pressing has brought tremendous sanitary gains as well as increased the longevity and quality of wine."
Grape abuse continues, white wine grapes are quickly crushed.
Why do you ask?
To keep unwanted "color" from leeching into the wine.
But red wine,
Red wine is left in contact with it's skin, forced to acquire more color, more flavor and additional tannins.
After being sorted and crushed, I naturally ferment with in six to twelve hours.
This continues until all my sugar,
Is converted to alcohol.
To produce dry, wine.
The final stage is aging.
I am bottled with a cork,
Put on a shelf.
And ironically,
await my optimal fruitfulness.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
A bright sun heated this ground and we richly sowed in fertile soil.
Spring was full of possibilities, which we now enjoy in summer produce, so luscious.
Ah, as tasty as sweet melon and as fresh as scent of cucumber love is.
And we have seen that the bounty we receive is equal to the worth of our toil.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
Chop. Chop. Chop.
The colors of the pepper
scatter on woodgrain.
They sit next to the diced onion
that I cut blind-
Chop
with my face turned to the door.
Those are next to the once big trees of broccoli-
Chop
now small flowers,
and there's a potent pile of garlic-
Chop
ready to be thrown into a shallow pit of heat-
the olive oil is sizzling.
Stop.
Listen to sound of produce.
Go!
Don't let the smoke rise too far-
the noses will come visit
and take your dinner away.
That's okay...
I wasn't hungry anyway.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
I would like
to have the ability to produce beauty
of a caliber so high
a drug test of it would come back positive
I would like
to produce beauty with the pain of realizing
you’ve been living in a box your entire life
and what you thought were stars are just glow-in-the-dark stickers
I would like
to write something so intelligent
you’d question your whole existence
and then some
I would like to have the ability to paint the world
as accurately as a laboratory analysis
I would like to produce beauty
But everything I produce is as painfully average as I am
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...
In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.
She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.
I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a **** and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.
Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This E.T. ride is far different than I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.
This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.
Wishing You The Very Best,
Sir Martin Narrod
I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC