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Wednesday, March 04, 2015

25 Edge Hill Poets/Liverpool Camarade: Elio Lomas and Luke Thurogood

Two 3rd Year Edge Hill students telling it like it is... This video counts as two of the contributions to 25 Edge Hill Poets as well as a record of the Liverpool Camarade.

Luke Thurogood 


My Poetics: Poetry is everywhere, it just needs editing. And Dracula’s Oracular Vernacular Spectacular. I find a Burnt Tongue is always helpful, taking the normal and twisting it or bringing the unusual up.  
 My Time at Edge Hill: Ainsley Harriott, Pasta, Clomping, late nights at the LINC, Poetry. As Hicks said – “It’s just a ride.” Always for Roberto Bolaño. 

Elio Lomas 

Poetry Magazine: http://ikleftiko.weebly.com/  
Poetics: Ever chancing and changing. Poetics the membrane, membranial, membranic , membraniac, membraneal, membranicial, membrantic, membranistic, the insipid cousin who I do not see very often but whom I speak with on most days unknowingly. Passing through poetics like oxygen through alveoli.‘The only constant I am sure of is this accelerating rate of change’—  Peter Gabriel. 

My time at Edge Hill: 76 million 844 thousand one hundred and thirty-seven seconds (not that I’m counting). Also Clomping and Ainsley Harriott. Edge Hill has certainly provided an environment.  

When collaborating we operate under the name ‘Embryo and Dilettante’ 

We wrote the following poem together 


Bon

 

Man has knob

knob goes in keyhole

man uses centrifugal force to break the lock

Fort Knox

crack rocks #GymSocks

woman has fanny. Bullion goes in fanny.

Another successful heist for

Fanny and (Long John) Clyde.

 

Long john hides an ice-pick in his urethra carefully avoid catastrophic trauma to the soft tissue that Klyle loves- quick, fetch the prostate gloves. The gooch is tender.

 

Raw-

mother goose her ducklings lay dead on the road from the night before

on Renal Failure avenue. One curry, two curry, our produce we take care in finding, three curry four- use these ducklings from the night before

 

Fanny has had an extra large space created in the artificial va-gin to store AK-47s and as previously stated vast quantities of loot.

 

Attach that labyrinth of incomprehensible tales spoken may as well by quails. Quail pasta is a delicacy on Mars because there are no quails there.

Black lights put black on black nights black tar in lungs black with smoke/stop/getting/cancer/daddy.