Of Bookish ThingsApocalypse - Now Monday!!! Get Yours, While Quantities Last!! It Will be Gone in A Heartbeat! 
~ reflections on these turbulent times and pathetic socks ~
#Collage #CollageArt #Art #DigitalArt #Asemic #AsemicArt #AsemicPostcard #Poetry #Dadaist #Dadaism #ProsePoetry #ProsePoem #Poem #Postcards #DeconstructedText #DadaistPoetry #ExistentialDadaism
The Dadaist Tesseract Church of the Asemic Existential-Möbius Otherhood Convention. Conventions are held when we are in the mood.
Fundamental to The #Dadaist Tesseract Church’s core is acceptance of The Other. Whereas, most religious beliefs and political systems shape their identity by the othering of specific segments of society, and humanity at large, the DTC embraces #TheOther. The Asemic Existential-Möbius Otherhood sees all sides as one side, so we other ourselves in the unity of our diversity, accepting all Others as ourselves.
The Dadaist Tesseract Church Gospel
#LesserKnownFanConventions
#HashTagGames #ExistentialDadaism #MythopoeicDadaism #Dadaism
Liminal Text Consciousness – Existential Dadaist
#Art #DigitalArt, #EOS #EOS90D #Photography #Absurdist #AsemicArt #AsemicText #AsemicWriting #Dadaism #Dadaist #DadaistProsePoem #ExistentialDadaism #DadaistPoetry #DeconstructedText #Poetry #Prosepoem #ProsePoetry
https://asemictarot.wordpress.com/2025/06/22/liminal-text-consciousness-existential-dadaist/
Marquise Bob MacAhue's story describes the consequences of human suffering and relates to the following story: Death stirs emotions in many people, but Dada awakens those emotions deeply in seashells, Lego bricks, and scorpions. Everyone goes to Tim Hortons and chats about who wins the Stanley Cup, now that America disappeared, and how crossing the border directly into Mexico has improved.
#Tim Hortons #America #Mexico #Dada #Dadaism #ExistentialDadaism #StanleyCup #DadaistSpeculativeFiction #ShortFiction #Dadaist
#Tim Hortons #America #Mexico #Dada #Dadaism #ExistentialDadaism #StanleyCup #DadaistSpeculativeFiction #ShortFiction #Dadaist
An Existential Dadaist Sonnet in the form of a Prose Poem
My favourite plant is the Moonglove. Before the harvest and cleaning season is over, asteroids kiss spectres in pails. Bird Pan thought, thinking of many things - mops and frying oatmeal. There is nothing. Turn it off too. We actually met. We don’t meet. Because I have someone I love. Gloves. Please tell me if there is, I don't knead it! I can't be one of them. I’m not saying hell, heroes, ghosts, dirt roads, sea-sky, ghosts are the worst, but we love lemons and are jealous. But I have hope. I will be myself. I don't need anything. If you don’t have anything - keyholes blind pockets. So, before the flood, there was a rock, a goat, a bear, a dog, a whale. You are worthless! You are worthless! I don't have time. Couples, oh, buy meds and darkness!! An unwanted person! Until someone noticed. But there is no chance. But I need stark skies, lights and scars. I love him. If there was, it would be film noir. There they sit and the song of the flowers grows in the darkness of the soul. But they never said anything. This is nothing. The stars don’t align. We haven't found it yet. Are you sure no one found it? Like me, it was all white stones and shells. But you know I’ll be happy to sell the Moon, while quantities last!!