day 30

Unsere Geschäftsnr- TN 33/062. 01:59:56

tespu, don, luciaproof
fats in vats of bbw
encalled, dsrptn

33/062 qon
don ‘fishnet stockings for #hentai bonus.

malam* tespu, manjaculates
op: asingbol protocol
enplaced by bedstride of
Leit Motif.

disembull lam, tespu
hagia of nagas


then the
ebb & jam of georg pool

of course there is awful
coiled oily cock in pantyhose
si si xi bots
angelled & floomin’
deep throat in the e-den of tespu.

of course there is end notes to Lore-gic
the epimath virals of Kon
the mount & morse code of estpu

when helevetica, assumes the formation of spring
with Tespu as
the hedonistic point
of borean elegance.

& of course there are no bodies.
no breakfast club in the dark
course there lives the epilogue:

of tespu,the unwrapper
favourite foil of farquah
performing the rite of circumcision
via anima methodi

he draws the card called ouroboros
with claw & snail & charcoal
and is finally installed,
this thirtieth day of thieving, ‘
as hierophant of the west
at xonsteuxt in the east.

#irvingpaulpereira #spwm17 #spwm17day30 #botbonus

day 29

Alt.illicit histories
re: singlitstation metauniverse
acc to tespu

#spwm17 #spwm17day29 #irvingpaulpereira

spent the mrrning on factboid
looking @ pi©tures of Joshua Ip

we know we shouldn’t

Not before the morphine
Not bbefore McDonald’s hunt

It’s not the way he left our bed dome
three trances ago
to devout his man organs
& linguis lobe
to that literary intelligence lode naming SPWOM

It’s not the way he wiped out our sunsets
from the folder
root dir> tgthr

It’s not the way he’s been ignoring the groin of our grammarian tree.

It’s the way he looked at tespu
& the song at his mount
that made us realize
We’re no longer hardt drive



We don”t know what happened that night with ruth tang.
we know there was a microwave
an object d’oblique
she, of the dark saying
“the further we are out there,
the smaller the sun of tespu.”

we were angry at something.

us, throwing ceramic plates full of drowsy food
us, knowing there was an elevator shaft.
and fr unknowable depths
she of the lark, saying
‘gone are the tweedle dumps of our age
gone, is the nuisance of tespu for good.’
and with that spoketh,
the veil of thea temple was torn in two.
nations upon nations struck down by Saturn.

we remember the smell of her horse
even though our islands were on fire
we remember her, brooding restless
in the murky aquarium of blindness
though we do not know if she was really sad.

We don’t quite know what happened
on the night of the microwave
but we know there was a ruth tang .



an a-z list of callsigns from the tespunian zooniverse
believing themselves to be kok weiliang


fishy smelling discharge that sticks on walls like a blu-tac or lizard
often wearing goggles

pet discordant fish
able to live without vegan water

some kind of cream puff troll
often made from castle
with a marsh interior
& mellow side effects

dasdas revolution:
an apphrodisiac,
often downloaded after barcode scanning of eggs

a source of salads
a rubber hose
various windmill attachments
xenobiological warfare

fahabian knot
the trouble with drawstrings
especially during urgent needs to extrapolate
one coffeeshop to rule them all
the law of turds

seedy thai disco

propellerhead giving
after accidental activation of doraemon d.n.a.

the pointing of the penis inwards, towards the rectum
or the ‘”he gaze of blind eye into black hole will gaze back into you.”

a peanut brand

kok wei liang
mantra to ward off myopia
found in some literati

the sound of a swinging reproductive organ
played with, delicately,
by a young norwegian organist

a hashtag of slurred nights on medicine consuming congee

the saccharine dream farm

a japanese condiment
to eat with live sea creatures
wriggling on freshly shaven oysters
a timely reminder about breakfast

that weird time of day when
the flies will fall to sleep
active volcanoes quieten
a clown will appear in the desert

Qam ping Q’iuu rian
a kind of oriental mental model depicting
-fruits, especially psycho actives
-song: strong enough to dissolve soup
-sage: a concubine in winter china, often playing with fishing wire
sometimes resembling a rose or thorned vagina

(alliance unknown)

some like them cum
some like them go
some like it in the rough
with glass

to honour ones genitals regardless of d.n.a structure
a plant in the wild lands, consumed by the muppets making fun of other stuffed animals
most likely the drug to induce visions
an unreal german u-boat

u-boat. most likely of unreal german origins
sunk on site

voh hol
‘the arrival cough.’
‘the entrance of grandfather in the sky to visit tespunian midgets
brings aged phlegm, specimens, vaping instruments and off white textiles to praying scents
the safehouse of god kok

method known enemy

to call attention to
slender hairlessness of blood drained boys
a pre-war seamstress who sold beer in the night
war cry – often resulting in castrations and sometimes, beheadings

an opium induced state that produces the sensation of
babies in space



an easy attitude towards catastrophes
a sign of gratitude when seeing bandanas
making peace with razor bladed hula hoops

a greeting, often made to the morning sun
a salud & gratitude
for truthful sleep

day 28


half naked
in&out of window
legs dangling outside
milky way thighs to the sky
red light special with joss sticks

behind her moon touched body
a horizon of ships with blue flares
a fire alarm
tespu, the cunntninglinguist
aircrafts loaded with dangerous weapons

the stars,
gaze at the failures of our imagination
of serene,
dangling by the window
the squaw and magic of her birds

#irvingpaulpereira #spwm17 #spwm17day28

day 27

Last few sounds to die within atmospheric memory grid; chik of a bic lighter, bubbling water, clink of spoon in glass, sizzle of steak on hotplate.

irrelevant sound disturbs the vibration mongers; the ranaglas, the omanyacon, the sarrogheitus – legions drifting through the detritus, the energetic imprints remaining at common gathering space of humanoids; of bankers, bastards, bartenders, babies, etcetera.

ranaglas absorption of layered emotions released at ragnarok sequencing – (quote) anger, violence, suicide of dark night soul clusters, collective experiences of war; congealing in the bubble matrix of zero gravity gunk, eaten like a wild animal = contentment

omanyacon pores open, sweeping spectrum/location – collective dream analysis / integration of desires left to float in the ether- (see) wealth power (variants), marriage potentials, serene ending of loud metastasised organ failings, winning of Chinese chess game against known masters

sarrogheitus: light spheres – opening of portals to valhalla, christ, risen, blood and water washing of feet in purgatory, binary to unitext conversion and upload into universal netfield, yoga (which is union) , divine intervention and acceptance into bodies of light.

sounds left untouched: breeze, occasional flickering of void deck light nearby, zen like stillness of yellow plastic chair, compositional breakdown of food remaining, the almost soft breathing of curled cats on warm to coldness kitchen machines, the quietude of sun entering its hour of final sleep.

#spwm17 #spwm17day27 #irvingpaulpereira #kopitiam #lifewithoutyou#rollforinitiative #constitutioncheck

day 26

the eulogy & emancipation of tespu

Monsierre Tespu,
your final nun is dying
the sand in her mouth is turning to stone
you’ve done your forty years in the desert
her water just broke
it’s eleven forty one

for the last three days
she’s been digging her sacred cunt
tasting the scabs of your one thousand one hundred names
something is bloating in her stomach
i’m starting to see
the form of your face
under her skin

Monsierre Tespu
‘how great thou art’
there’s a concubine in me
that’s also in you
there’s mathematical erections
there’s a solar flare in your orbit
every time i urinate on a pillar

her pimple just burst
the pus is your pass to come through
i can see your blue veins on her translucent flesh
i can see your hands reaching out to me

Monsierre Tespu
a rose by any other DNA is a foreign animal
i have foraged for your contact for ages
the time in your desert is done
my limb cannot be
while your limb is ecstatic death

we have turned off our televisions
we are waiting for your satellite

monsierre tespu
i can see your top hat poking from the cunt of your nun
her face is exquisitely reposed
i know i must not touch your ear lobes
for you are me who was dead but live
i am you who is here but not
if the crop circles of my fingerprints align with your signature scab wounds
some kind of pre/post/immortal state of us cannot be
so i stand by the cut of cctv
with sanitary pads
with pad thai
with the book and the pendulum and the miserable omen thing that calls you poe in a very bleak way

i did not miss you
i only miss the cigarettes i burned for you for forty years
i trust the ashes on the other side is enough to build me a palace
or at least a playground with under aged naked girls garbling my name

the golden bough has broken
wires undone

magister tespu
you crawl forth from the old nun like a spider
i admire the truth in the hair on your legs
i admire the toxins shining in your eight globian eyes
i admire the silver DNA strands ejaculating from your mysterious rear orifice
you have come to take office
you have come to make poetry great again
you have cum on my face and i am like a little kawaii Lolita lapping up your language
my ovaries are singing hymns to tespu
my gonads are singing hymens to tespu
my monad is slinging hype on tespu
alongside bras
and thongs and soggy pads
pads of my dog’s feet for tespu
pad for my copter of tespu
pad for the bachelors of tespu
pad thai for the gut of tespu
all poetry is tespu
all novelty is tespu
all literature is tespu
all violence is tespu
all vaginas is tespu
all phantoms for tespu
all penile for tespu
all borning for tespu
all dying for tespu
again and again and again
until the water of the last nun breaks.

#spwm17 #spwm17day26 #irvingpaulpereira #dawnofthedead#pastlivesbonus #secondcomingbonus #notmysaviourbonus

day 25

editors note: source text file (image attached) of unknown origin, possibly from prayer cycles of tespu. recite at the risk of warping your intelligence and/or reality construct.


Tespu awakes (also: birthed towards)

Holy, helios, power of neumoni

Unmanned hedonism

Ovum of sand


Iristritus, dendriteration

Deflowrama, avenues of the ancients




An escalation of eugenics

Seraphons, su essiterra

prencile , infinitorque

(and all of the stations will find said furniture)

and To b”na like little surrealismes, is to bequeath the _____ to Tesputius.

Neumoni _ appreciation of the lineages of sunburnt fruit.

Pentitiiate – to enliven a disused digestive organ via writing

Torniquietude _ prevention of excessive disappearance due to immense silences

Illumimanuscriptus – organically glowing texts designed to reveal mysteries, especially pertaining to seldom understood poets or polemics.

Iristritus – rearrangement of the remains of an abode (usually post war or ‘an accompanying archeology of disaster) in order to ascertain the faith and worldview of end time cult practitioners.

Dendriteration _ naturally recurring exchange of deific impulses / information between landscape definitions and those who observe it with awe.

Deflowrama _ to incite confusion by interrupting the sequence of a romantic sunset with someone you loved but suddenly feel nothing for.

Estpu _ the direction faced when a tespunian text is created (usually after a period of prolonged darkness.)

Motherium _ to install the spores of feminine councils in a zero gravity habitat.

Seraphons, su essiterra _ vocalized nuances of angelic essences to accelerate growth in specific lifeforms (especially forested humanoids)

prencile , infinitorque

An apprentice involved in artistic pursuits suddenly aged by exposure to sublime experiences (usually at the speed of light)

b”na _ to organise into a hive like structure

______ – an impossible utterance.

Tesputius – a philosopher like pedantic who considers surrealism as a form of children.


#spwm17 #spwm17day25 #irvingpaulpereira #faithlessprompt IMG20170425113812

day 24


“Tespu dreams in the house of afrioca
but seeds in the house of ihiir.”

there’s a tide that flows through the hall
lapping at the cabinet of crystals
there’s a hole in the balcony wall
overlooking the seaweed forest
a bloated man that drifts in and out of light
sunburnt feet rarely touching debris

there’s fog in the stairwells
a body in a chair, convulsing
a body moved by something
other than life or current

old teachers, store managers, pale lipped children appear on various moons
never a sound
never fully visible
like static flickering holograms
like the death throes of television

there’s a door made from lore
an element, a magnet
used to commune with man-gods
missing since blackhole time

there are buildings taking off like starships
smoking craters, blind chess players, speechless damsels

there’s a wall that saves the city from volatile reality
there’s a bird in a cage in a truck with red neon lights

there are no wild animals
no moss eaten mattresses by the shelled shore
there are no japanese soldiers face down in salt water
no remains of bandages, rusted by blood

there’s a tide that lapses into sediment
there’s a building that lay on its side
there’s a lack of natural constructs
a single store light with phantom power
a family portrait with faded faces
an erasure of species
an erasure of spectacle
there is silence and garbled anthems
final broadcasts on loop
the bleeding of red into white of flag
the silhouette of unknown monsters

there are no stars or crescent moons
no evidence of the isle before

there’s a door

to a previous time
long before the dawn of compass
there are old ones who remain
dreaming in the house of ihiir
watching from the nest of afrioca

#irvingpaulpereira #spwm17 #spwm17day24

day 23

the yellow plastic horse appears shell shocked. i suspect it’s the rusty spring in its stomach, not in its step. its four limbs are above ground. i do not watch it vomit blood, the way my horse did in my other life. a life of fire and arrows and the corpse of a queen. you can play tic tac toe, by turning yellow cubes on a pole. one side is x, the other, zero. hugs and kisses. things explicitly missing from my current age in life. the way children are missing from this place. but it is midnight anyway. a couple in matching grey clothes walk past. the t-shirt on the boy says, try, try, try. it’s a sign to me. to flog the dead horse of my heart. but after this cigarette please. if i feel like it. if i feel i won’t be distracted by the presence of a little girl in a pink dress, watching me from behind the tree. i think i should leave. for this is her haunt, and not mine.

#spwm17 #spwm17day23 #irvingpaulpereira #formbonus

day 22

The seven sacramental asingbol horns: crushed and consumed by Tespu.

true crush: born of hindsight, from failure and not of faces. the unexcited butterflies in damaged pancreas now pinned on the wall as decor.

first crush: sharp kitchen knife, dangling from fathers’ tie
hung over chandelier pointing to bare chest, hardcover cookbook to avoid death.

first crush: burning rope, lit by church candle. a young body in a suitcase at the bottom of a well, eaten by red ants in the isolated wild.

first crush: fat goldfish caught in clothes peg pulled out of tank gasping for breath. an erotic sensation of watching it float upside down.

first crush: stepping on lizard in the kitchen dark. tail wriggling under soles, like the rolling of rubber bands on sensitive flesh. socks.

socks: birthday present from first crush. girl who rode on a bike with another boy by the sea. sand grit in her open wound heart not opened.

failed crush: lodged in the lumbar of tespu. locked in the luna phases of tespu. inspiration of death cults. empty heart of tespu, occluded.

#irvingpaulpereira #asingbol #spwm17 #spwm17day22 #nobonus

day 21

“cclaon deceives the mind.
cclaon will unshape us
she is the heavenly promise”

– film from a black planet, by #irvingpaulpereira


unrecognised slices of time, thinly razed, impregnated.

film: sentient crackling mess of form, mutated, unrecognised.

figures: hooded, monologue wall, disrupting narration, arrhythmia of film.

disembodied spirit of cast, returning, weeping in pipes in the house we shot at, fog toxins from burnt flesh pooling around fleeting figures.

impregnated, the other faces of lost dolls emerge.


it is the film that awakens in me
it is the film that ended their world
I am reborn blind but can see
I am reborn as clusters of celluloid consciousness
remember the bride, the virgin in the roiling waves
remember her groom, floating bloated in her hands
camera man, whose ears began bleeding
sound man, whose eyes turned to runny yolk,

drip falling into burning pans we ate from
reshot again and again like a master chef film
reborn as cannibals, eating the runaway child-bride
reborn as clusters of cancerous fallopian tubes
I remember the city, ravaged by cclaon
I remember the doom, drifting bloated in the skies
director: whose suicide did not end his pain
producer: who buried the men in suits in walls.


be blind to this film
the audience is the horror
destroy all broadcast.

#irvingpaulpereira #spwm17 #spwm17day21 #unbrokenbonus
#udaiyaathathu x #animamethodi x #haiku