Pollywogs!

I used StumbleUpon today and found a mildly amusing screw-around site called Language is a Virus.

It had an automatic poetry generator which I found quite disturbing for the feeling of both resonance and schizophrenia:

Weird and damp under the dream

Totally desirous beside the grave
You poke black visions about the sky
Be wary! The devil has vanished
All glowing against the ground
You enjoy dark symbols on the grave
I reach! The pleasure never ends
Weird and damp under the dream
We stone transparent bones near the ground
Be wary! The passion is born
clouded tired
a long way from home
something missing
Out of whose dream
a stranger
turn aside
where he knew no-one

Here is another one:

Strange and yellow over the flowers

Totally damp near the mist
You dispel bright tentacles below the land
Tighten up your wig! The devil has fled
Sinful and heavy within the gods
You summon vaporous rubes beyond the flock
Be watchful. The bitch is gone
Strange and yellow over the flowers
We prod angry idiots on the virgin
Beware! The day will come
darkening unseeing
across the water
a sense of danger
In whose heart
my likeness
forget to go home
never knowing how

I ran one which required some user direction:

How the earth is i shall let the wind

In the head like a kick, lull them asleep: black velvety jacket;
the river murmurs, does he sink;
of blue waters! the rushes lean over her wide!

Contained in the vast ether, slips amorously.
- with a cloak of ignorance, down the long black river.
The wolves howl back whence does he come.
- from violet forests: where the stars are sleeping.

How the earth is, i shall let the wind
into the deep ocean and the horizon rushes
tremble at the tones, unfathomable space;

Into the ferocious tide rips, i have seen maelstroms eternal,
of the sea star-infused and entranced in pallid flotsam
trembled to feel, down into abysses

by GaS & Arthur Rimbaud

 

I’m fascinated by language as art, and yet a barren field myself…