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#thesideshow April 5th 2016 555 5 untitled sonnets by John Lowther

5 Untitled Sonnets by John Lowther

All my life I’ve yearned for people to bring out the best in me.
All communications with the implant will be covert and encrypted.
All laughter is merely a compensatory reflex to take the place of sneezing.
Both tactics miss the point.
Both models have dissident potential.
Both food and sex stimulate the mouth and cater to the orality of pleasure.
There is an opening of new possibilities.
Sometimes I dream that everything in my life makes sense.
There’s even a motorcycle called Virago.


The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words.
The ship at low water had a great lust to the offing.

We shall always return to metaphysics as to a beloved one with whom we have had a quarrel.
I would guess you are who you are because you have issues.

Normal is only ordinary; mediocre.
Humility is more appropriate than hubris.

The customers go for it — it’s so old, it’s new.
It’s a way of thinking that stinks to high heaven.


Islamic authority my ass.
Transsexuals are everywhere.
I will not recite dialogue.
You probably saw our posters.

In the beginning was the deed.
Kissed, suddenly I was a prince.
You kept gazing into my eyes.
They are getting a bit messy.

We feel it but cannot grasp its cause.
And here is why they are full of shit.
Gloriously, tantalizingly wrong.
And it is in sum a little vague.

Such lapses are unavoidable, if deleterious.
The world is not to be divided into sheep and goats.


What you imply when you say “our relationship” is access to a reality
shared with no one but yourself.
I hate love.
Sex is a waste of batteries.
I have no so-called partner and am very independent.
It’s about how not to love.
Ideologically speaking, love and affection must be fundamental;
empirically speaking, they are clearly nothing of the kind.
Suddenly it resolves into this big window of suckiness for both parties.
That marriage is a failure none but the very stupid will deny.
I got your love letters, corrected the grammar, and sent them back.


I like denial.
No lines pollute it.
I once saw a young man sucking on a stripper’s breast, while she gently
patted his hair.

Show to the world your ideology.
You are being a rape apologist.
First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for
money.

Same issue I have at a loud concert.
I’m sorry but I did not insult you.
It may be that I am fleeing, but throughout my flight, I am searching for a
weapon.

No new movie at cinema.
I was a nightly visitor.


These 555 sonnets are made with found lines and precise measures, a database and text analytic software. I crunched Shakespeare’s sonnets for word, syllable and character averages and these are my new measures. The lines’ oddities are their own, the arrangement is mine. After the text analytics and data entry, many ways of assembling are found. I hold to the turn (when I think of it) and that sonnets are poems of a certain size, but little more. Something in excess of the lines pass through, it’s that Note on the Text I’m chasing.