Found Poetry

I like the idea of found art. It's all about stripping an object of its context and assigning it a new arbitrary value and thus a fresh context. It doesn't matter if an object was rubbish lying in the street an hour ago; look at it in a different light (from a different perspective) and who knows what you will see? That's one of the reasons I like shopping in second hand stores. There's less bias on my part; an item is more likely to stand on its own merits rather than brand, price or the store it's sold in. 'Cool' becomes a product of my own mind rather than marketing.

Dust Bunny With Grass - January 2012

Sorting out my very cluttered, disorganised data is on my 52 habits in 52 weeks list. I'm working away at it a little every day (habitually, you might say). I'm making progress (or so I keep telling myself). On my new phone, filed under the category of 'Weird Stuff I Keep', I have an SMS message synced from my old phone that I received mistakenly from a complete stranger in late 2009. It reads like beat poetry. It is so beautiful and poignant and strong and tells an old old tale. I know I've been there. I present it for you today as a guest post of sorts. Superbly practical syntax and spelling is preserved from the original, but I'm going to insert some spaces to make it easier to read.


Well it all went down the drain pritti quik.
All coza drugs.
U neva listened 2 me
its like inside i was screaming
but outside i cudnt speak.
Did u evn care about me at all at the end of it
coz it sure didnt feel like it,
all u cared about was jus takin off n gtn fried
n ditchn me 
n goin 2 da beach witout me.
id hav 2 beg u jus to spend a minute with me
ud make me wait 4 hrs n neva evn show up 2 things we had 2 do
lyk lookn at houses.
U put evryone and evrything b4 me
id had enuff.
way enuff.
Thats y that nyt u fukd off 
and left me at aron n tash's
sed u left 4 wrk wit silvo n paulie at like 4am
n sed ud b bak at like midday latest.
i waited all that afternoon thru to the nite 
til afta midnyt
n thats wen i fukd off took my shit n left
coz u promised me ud b bak 
n u wernt
yet silvo n paul came bak at lyk 11
n u wernt wit em,
sed u wer drinkn wit daz
but i knew tht wuda bin a lie
coz at that point u owed him money.
So yeahh.
And that ws da end of us


So is it just me, or is there raw poetry in that?