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The Scum Gentry Alternative Arts and Media - Latest Content
A Dismemberment of Corpses - Short Story by Richard Barr

For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.

Luke 8:17


There’d been an incident in work and now an investigation were underway. From the investigation would come a decision, and this decision determined whether or not I’d return to my job in the radiator factory.

‘Will I still get paid?’ I asked my line manager, Gemini.

‘Not until you come back. If you come back,’ he replied. Under his annoying nasally voice I could hear the distant rotations...


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Capitalism Without Wages? by John Latham

Volunteers throughout the ages have realised that working for nothing is not such a bad idea. It seems perverse, but the “cash nexus” can make labour more tedious than almost anything else. Eccentric Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle noted that the relationship between employer and employee can be difficult. Without a strong union behind them, anybody can be subject to insidious forms of exploitation or discrimination.

If work is done for money rather than love the result can be a profound sense of alienation. The young Karl Marx observed that the power of money means that an ordinary paid labourer has almost no input into the shape of the work process. In less theoretical terms, we may work to live, but only live and breathe at the weekend. We can feel like the mere tools of a boss, aware...

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Outsider Art Gallery

Patience - Watercolour, pencil and Ink - by Charlie McGlynn

   “Patience” – Charlie McGlynn        View More...

 

Prepare my spaghetti dinner immediately! - Short Story by Jim Meirose

Hello there Davis family! Prepare my spaghetti dinner immediately! Janie told me she would be at Frank’s. I can bet that by now you’re on tenterhooks knowing that in just about a single decade you will be called home to Bern and processed through the process and begin your well-earned lives, which by the way we will number Davis family lifetime 2.0. She agreed to be here at seven so we could watch the next prep video together. We are glad to tell you that our research and planning is well ahead of schedule and we will be ready and waiting in every one of the hundreds of multifaceted ways that we must be prepared to take you in live spit you out between lives in process status, that is—and then send you out fresh and alive and ready to hold hands together with all tests behind you, and to enter the Gallant Neoteric New Nature of human...


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More Micks than Dicks: A Hybrid beckettian Novella in 3 Genres by Peter O'Neill - Review by Ross Breslin

“More Micks Than Dicks: A Hybrid Beckettian Novella in 3 Genres” is a strange beast indeed. Part prose narrative, part academic dissertation and part poetry cycle, it’s a thoroughly postmodern work that—in the hands of a lesser talent—could very easily have failed in its unwieldly ambition to function as a cohesive work. Really, it would take the mind of a poet to conceptualize how something like this could, against the odds, work so well. Serendipitously, Peter O’Neill is most certainly that.

And so is his Author-surrogate, White—the protagonist of the novelistic aspects of the work. White, the poet, has been invited to enter the stuffy halls of academia to present a talk on the influences of the Greek philosopher Heraclitus on the Samuel Beckett novel “Comment C’est”. He’ll be speaking at...

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Scum Gentry TV

   “ENNUI” – Craig Podmore         View More...

 

A Switch in Time - Short Story by Margaret Karmazin

Though Brianna Kinney had always enjoyed a roof over her head and food on the table (too much of that and not always the right kind), she’d often lacked other things that nourish the soul. At twenty-five, she had still never experienced sex, if you subtract being fingered by an uncle at eight years old. And though she tested with an IQ of 138, she had not been able to finish her education. After her mother’s massive stroke, Brianna quit attending community college to take care of her and by the time the poor woman died, Brianna needed immediate work to support herself. Not only that, she had fallen into a deep depression that soon became what she thought of as her normal way to be.

She applied to the school district for a teacher’s aide position, but that ended up going to the vice principal’s niece, then eventually...


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The Working Man: Lizard Fingers Video Premiere

The Working Man—without a doubt one of the most unique, boisterous and simply balls-out entertaining rock outfits to come out of the UK in recent years—returns with yet another demented video escapade, available exclusively today this 19th of October 2017, and following the election-themed “Look at this Tory Cunt” earlier this year.


Both heavy and melodious, with a suitably deranged keyboard lead that sounds like something that might have been first worked out on the sanitarium “therapy” xylophone—before edging seamlessly into a more old-school heavy metal guitar rendition—“Lizard Fingers” is a delightfully in-your-face...

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Scum Gentry Radio
Scum Gentry Poetry Hole
The Brunch People - poem by John Grochalski

The brunch people
Are lining Saint Mark’s Place
On an early Sunday afternoon
The brunch people women wear cute little dresses
And the men wear polo shirts with the collars up
They are named Becca and Staci
Todd and Blake and Kyle
And they are as boring as a parade on the Fourth of July
The brunch people play on cell phones
Or talk about banal things like Taylor Swift music
And the national football league
Their voices sound like honking cars in traffic
And they never worry about hunger or war
The brunch people giggle
Because they are drinking mimosas with champagne
Before one o’clock in the afternoon
A few of them will be asleep by four p.m.
At least one Becca or Staci
Will vomit on the pavement or have to fight off
The advances of one of the Kyles
The brunch people love bacon and eggs
And specialty coffees that taste like mint
They love Starbucks and 7-11 and Dunkin
And watching from their rooftop pool parties
As people who’ve lived here for years
Get their asses thrown out on the street
The brunch people take the word gentrification as a compliment
They’ve started phrases “I’m not racist but...”
They were put on this earth to eat French toast
And destroy us as quickly as they can
The brunch people have college degrees
But they don’t have college debt
Most of them are heading toward thirty
And their parents still pay their rent
Mommy had to call Blake off from his job last Friday
Because he was hungover from
Too much partying with Todd
The brunch people laugh about the mundane
Throw their trash on the ground
And never really pay the cost for anything in this country
If you stopped one and asked them if they were human
I’m willing to bet you twenty dollars
Most of them wouldn’t know what
In the hell to say.



John Grochalski is the author of The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch Out (Six Gallery Press 2008), Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010), In The Year of Everything Dying (Camel Saloon, 2012), Starting with the Last Name Grochalski (Coleridge Street Books, 2014), and the novels, The Librarian (Six Gallery Press 2013), and Wine Clerk (Six Gallery Press 2016).  Grochalski currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, where the garbage can smell like roses if you wish on it hard enough.


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Worm Strike Space Invaders Game link
Scum Gentry Poetry Hole
Room 18: Golden Ratios of a Flying Sex Women - poem by Peter D. Marra

she accepted a truth:
she was a peeping tom.
then she watched the window across the
airshaft


she pulsated while eating her sexual desire
between the probes of her mental state


she swirled the fluid in a delicate goblet
a mixture of bitter sweat and isomers of fragrant urine
with a touch of
                                tart membranes


swished it around her mouth
bathed her bleeding gums
then gulped
                                burn
        burn
gagged briefly. voluntary agent.

the window
grew larger as she backed away
she began to stroke. opened the noise
and walked into an answer


she began to stroke. opened the image
and walked into a reason


instructions were absent from the text.
she was trying to set up the head.
sexual desire. between them. to probe downwards.


she spied on me
and she spied on me
and she always will
and I’m glad


poses were going to happen
door closed
penetration
sex-bombing


she shook and began to speak of time
a plastic minute, think that’s too long?


her filthy mouth offered a humorous alternative
a half-life in this position


she said (the only transcript):


“coma 1. i was in him deep, almost up to my forearm.
That’s what he wanted. all sweaty.
he was all sweaty and clammy. i think i did something wrong,
i felt something give way. soft pop. i pulled out and left him there on the floor as a quivering pain pleasured jelly. i outlined his body with tiny black stones to mark the event.


tasty glistening cock.


clock tweaked faster. i fell into a deep sleep.”


“roundabout rooms—one starts
then ends in another. automobiles are always crashing
outside i can hear them through the stained glass. eyes
of the saints are teary moist now.


gas oil smell. burnt steel. peeled plastic and paint
as the shapely sun-tanned matrons from Midwest America
cradle assault rifles between their legs
massaging their cunts, tattooing themselves
in red, white and blue under their cross.”


fully exposing the taste of salt and skin.



From Vanished Faces (a performance of occult infections)



Peter Marra’s writings explore alienation, addiction, the misuse of love, the curse of secrets, the pain of victimization and the impact of multi-obsessions sexual and otherwise. He is in love with the Three Mothers that sprung from the hallucinations of Suspiria de Profundis by Thomas de Quincey. He has been scarred by his past quests into the pits of Sin & Flesh in NYC’s East Village and Pre-Disney Times Square and he has been manipulated by trash culture and fine art. The bastard child of the films of Roger Corman and Russ Meyer, Peter has had over 300 poems published either in print or online in over 25 journals.

Originally from Gravesend Brooklyn, he lived in the East Village, New York from 1979 to 1993 at the height of the punk – no wave music – cultural rebellion.  His published works include approximate lovers (downtown materialaktion) (Bone Orchard Press), Peep-O-Rama: Sins of the Go-Go Girls (Hammer & Anvil Books available through Amazon and Vanished Faces (a performance of occult infections) published by Writing Knights Press available through Amazon.


Author’s website: www.angelferox.com


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