Rhoda Penmarq

Євген Довгий про відліт

Відлітай

Мої думки в повітрі розсипані

Сповиті солодкими снами дикими,

Стрічками прозорими, словами зниклими.

І знову у опіках душу никаю.

Летіти до неба шляхами ближніми,

Ховати зіниці, що болем насичені...

І кров під шкірою секунди відлічує,

Не чую нікого - емоції нівечать.

Спитатися в ніжності дозволу мучити,

Стискати в долонях всі засоби сучі –

І не скористатися правом цим крученим,

Не сподіваючись цим когось зворушити.

Я просто і вкотре вже силуюсь тішитись,

Що тиша існує не тільки для тиші,

І з легкістю можна знедоленість знищити

Пробачити все, піднімаючись вище.

 

Контури світла по тілу схвильовані,

Погляд безглуздям моїм арештований,

Надривними хвилями серце знов зломлене –

Посмішка? Спокій? Але тільки зовні.

Flen flyys

Flen flyys is a Macaronic Latin poem, written in about 1475, that is chiefly famous for containing the first known written usage in English of the vulgar verb "fuck".
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Flen, flyys, and freris populum domini male caedunt,
Thystlis and breris crescentia gramina laedunt;
Christe, nolens guerras, sed cuncta pace tueris;
Destrue per terras breris, flen, flyȝes, and freris.
Flen, flyȝes, and freris, foul falle hem thys fyften ȝeris,
For non that her ys lovit flen, flyȝes, ne freris.

Fratres Carmeli navigant in a bothe apud Eli,
Non sunt in cœli quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk.
Omnes drencherunt, quia sterisman non habuerunt,
Fratres cum knyvys goth about and txxkxzv nfookt xxzxkt,

Ex Eli veniens praesenti sede locatur,
Nec rex nec sapiens, Salomon tamen ille vocatur.

Pediculus cum sex pedibus me mordet ubique,
Si possum capere, tokl tobl debet ipse habere.

Si tibi strok detur, wyth a round strok evacuetur;
Et si revertetur, loke tu quod retribuetur.

Est mea mens mota pro te, speciosa Magota.

Verum dixit anus, quod piscis olet triduanus;
Ejus de more simili foetet hospes odore.

Est in quadrupede pes quintus, in aequore pulvis,
In cirpo nodus, in muliere fides.

Cum premo, re retrahit, stringit con, inque sigillat,
Sub silet, ob spoliat, sed de gravat, ex manifestat.

Thus, pix, cum sepo, sagmen, cum virgine cera,
Ex hiis attractus bonus est ad vulnera factus.

Vento quid levius? fulgur. Quid fulgure? flamma.
Flamma quid? mulier. Quid muliere? nichil.
Auro quid melius? jaspis. Quid jaspide? sensus.
Sensu quid? ratio. Quid ratione? nichil.

Frigore Frix frixit, quia Tros trux tubera traxit,
Trosque truces Traces secuit necuitque minaces.

Taurus in herba ludit, et optat tangere limpham.
Rumbo murena extat Thamesia plena.

Markerdrip

Barbara Suckfüll

Farmer Barbara Suckfüll, at the age of 50, started to hear voices. In 1910, under their command, she began to draw outlines of dishes and cutlery. Writing along and in between the outlines, Suckfüll captures in words her everyday life in the Heidelberg asylum: what she thought, did or ate, her rows with the nurses and what the voices told her. Every word is followed by a full stop, resulting in a dense net of marks that dissolves into abstraction. All Suckfüll’s drawings, which have an aerial perspective, depict the domestic objects that were brought to her cell. There is no three dimensional space and each flattened object is outlined with a succession of 2s, crosses or pinpricks which form chains in an attempt to establish boundaries. (Dissolving of the ego in psychosis leads to the inability to determine where the subject ends and the Other begins.) Suckfüll, it appears does not have the co-ordinates with which to understand the physical world. As there is no fixed view point she found it necessary to turn the paper as she worked. With both the object and the name placed on the paper via the gesture she attempts to stop meaning from sliding off.In an attempt to build herself a structure each word is pinned down with a full-stop. Here the nurse or ‘Red Devil’ brings in a washbasin: 

And.Today.It.Is.Sunday.Too.The.First.Sunday.After.The.Assumption.Too.And.So.It.Will.Be.The.Twentyfirst.This.Is.Fine.I.Think.And.That.Is.the.Washbasin.You.See.I.Have.Drawn.That.Too.One.Time.Too.And.Then.Today.The.Redhead.Brought.Cold.Washing.Water.It.Was.Too.Cold.What.She.Brought.Today.And.The.Second.Devil.Was.On.The.Lookout.I.Heard.That.Myself.Too. 

The words are carefully written in and around the linear image of the washbasin. All space is filled and even the spaces between words are punctuated.

Johann Fischer

Johann Fischer was born in Kirchberg am Wagram, a small town west of Austria, in 1919. While he initially trained and worked as a baker, in 1940 he enlisted in the military. Held captive during WWII, six years later he returned home and began to work on his parent’s farm. This marked the beginning of the deterioration of his mental health, and in 1967 he was hospitalized for hallucinations. For Fischer, this time represents a death of the outside world followed by a “rebirth” in the hospital. He believes that his previous life was not his own but someone else’s whom he has named his “predecessor”. He states: “I was made-created-made on June 16th, 1967, at the cemetery of the Kierling-gugging hospital, between 6:30 and 10:00 PM, by the father of my predecessor god the father almighty. And from a little seed, drawn from the well of proper seeds, following an additional wish.” Johann Fischer joined the Gugging house of artists in 1981. Inspired by the artwork of the other residents of Gugging, he began to draw himself. He is always the first artist to be working on his drawings every morning. His early drawings were of isolated animals and people, but with time his compositions became increasingly complex. Most of his later works include text that Fischer scripts beautifully on the page. In his artwork he tells stories about winemaking, farming, politics and life in the Gugging house of artists.

Emma Hauck

On February 7th of 1909, a 30-year-old mother of two by the name of Emma Hauck was admitted to the psychiatric hospital of the University of Heidelberg in Germany, having recently been diagnosed with dementia praecox. The outlook improved briefly and a month later she was discharged, only to be readmitted within weeks as her condition deteriorated further. Sadly, the downturn continued and in August of that year, with her illness deemed “terminal” and rehabilitation no longer an option, Emma was transferred to Wiesloch asylum, the facility in which she would pass away eleven years later. It was around this time that a heartbreaking collection of letters, some of which can be seen below, were discovered in the archives of the Heidelberg hospital; all written obsessively in Emma’s hand during her second stay at the clinic in 1909, at a time when reports indicate she was relentlessly speaking of her family. Each desperate letter is directed at her absent husband, Mark, and every page is thick with overlapping text. Some are so condensed as to be illegible; some read “Herzensschatzi komm” (“Sweetheart come”) over and over; others simply repeat the plea, “komm komm komm,” (“come come come”) thousands of times. None were sent.