"Behind every system, behind every rule stands a corpse and laughs. You can't tell me who I should sleep with. I don't work for wages. My life is a revolution... My life is a beautiful life... What you call freedom, I call waste... I will continue to love my own voice. If everyone becomes me, everything will collapse."

Bruno K. Ă–ijer

Saturday, November 3, 2012




BRUT

MANIFESTO 

II




INDEPENDENCE IN A BURNING CELL
THE ELEMENT OF ASSASSINATION WITH A WILL TO STRIKE 
A masculine suicide. A glory of a kind. The broken skin covered with deadly anticipation.
Your words are a lie. The essence of constipation. The will to surrender and apathy to strike. Eliminate the presence of promises. The joy you bring to the world. A lie. ALL A LIE! So let's dance on a grave of our fathers. Let's kill our essence in absence of thought. Let's lie till our piss stink of revenge. Your world is a non existing malice. I die in sodomy of misconception!
 Father!

In the lie you call the core. In a lie you call life. In a lie of misjudged idols. Unity? Fuck unity! There is NO UNITY. A LIE! All a fucking lie. Kneel! In front of who? The element. The fucking element.

In the shadow. The killer view. The bourgeois is leaking. In puss of the swollen mind. In glory - the work of ages. Step on the milestone with a rope tighten around your weekend neck. 
I will pray for you!










BRUT

MANIFESTO 

I




BRUT has a smell. A body. A vagina. A mind. BRUT has a picture. A reflection. An interface. BRUT is strong and angry. BRUT is restless and manic. BRUT is political. Feministic. BRUT has a voice. It consumes and pukes out. BRUT is alcohol poisoning. A prescription drug. BRUT! Neither in or out. BRUT bleeds and shits and pisses. BRUT is outraged. It hates! BRUT is YOU as much as it is ME. BRUT does not vote, pay taxes or interact. BRUT breathes. Despises stupidity. BRUT is never satisfied. BRUT is hungry! BRUT is an entity I will give you. So you can see what BRUT wants you to see. 
BRUT does not believe in war or in peace. 




BRUT IS A WOMAN – WOMAN IS A WEAPON!



Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Ophelia and the Reflection




I watched the day pass me buy, waisting by every breath. Body looked strange, reflection motionless. Body was noshes and sick. Still. Body could bend itself into the strangest positions. Body was missing something. Body was barely breathing and ready to go…

In the mirror sky was battling the storm. It softly cuddled every raindrop that was killing the o, so rare summer spirit. Time as passing. Air was getting lighter then thicker again. One never knows when the last day would strike. In reflection. Alasdair Gray passed making his judgment. Body was slipping deeper and deeper into layers of unpacked cloths covering the bed. Suitcase laughter at the collection of single shoes , bras, suspender belt, laced underwear and protecting sun tan lotions. I never knew how day looks at us while we pretend to go on…

Today I watched the day. Rain slowly killed the hours. Bed was almost transparent and barely caught the eye. I watched the day in reverse. Thought the big closed mirror. That soon will be exchanged. Eye watched them self while the outline of the body lost it self in the bright light of by occasion winning sun. The storm took it all way. As soon as the light was gone, body disappeared with it…

Day lost it self in my misanthropy … I lost my outline. Stomach was confessing the wrong doings that brain disproved in the first place. I never knew losing a day in the reflection of itself is that simple and mesmerizing. At some point it was 20:56. I envied the emptiness of the stomach as if cheating to the fullness of the frozen mind. 

My arms barely raised and touched the breast covered by laced black bra. I could see and touched the pierced nipple. The reflection did the same thing. Mind reacted and realized it's being the third in this contact communication. It started to get darker. I knew you would not read this when I wished. You would of wouldn't. I sank deeply in to the hole that appeared in striped red colored bedding and felt the warmth of night take me away….


Yes
I understand and wish to continue








Good night and god bless
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich 

Monday, July 30, 2012

Forensic Psychosis



Reaching points of consolation. Plastic wall have barely visible grey stripes. You sink in the same vomit while making a pass. No. STOP! Falling always the same way. But this time I burned every possible path for them to walk on. Nothing to proof. It gets harder to wake up and deadly to breath. Pure poison. What a word play! 3 sets of lips and one face. What a lovely picture. Between your legs there is…. 

YES! there is. Someone raped my muse. Inside the left right lobe. Between the legs and fingers. Do you? I do not. Outsider. So I will move in to another cave. Surrounded by burning building while inhaling acid. So that the veins would destroy the free speech of the sinner. Taking out garbage that was collected for too long. In the middle of the ocean naked body got the blessing. By the one. Only one thing matters, kill for love. Cut off the head. My shoes made of soft tissue and tangents. Body changed shape and size. Eyes became focused. Are you almost famous? 

Inside-out. Here you burry a body, separating limb from limb, scattered in 300 kilometers radius. Preferably wider. Are you there yet? I am tired of drawing them maps. Take it in out and deal with the fluids. Up the dosage. Reduce the intake. Isn't it sweet? Assumptions. Lift an eyebrow, naked shoulder. Lifting, pressing down. Slower, faster. Purer. I have a flag above my head. It's not that easy you know. Represent, come on! Represent and lick the ground. Stand the ground. Tastes like digested candy-floss. Around, above, between. In squares, triangles, duplicated couples. Now, not yet. Perhaps tomorrow, before yesterday. Towards day after, inside day one. On top of, in a week, got in advance. Do I burn it? Watching judgments participation.  It happens the same way all the time. Never understand who is what, how is who and where is that. Mathematically perfectly simple equation.

Psychotic breaks and bubble gum. How much shit can you work thought? White spots of red glitter. Artery is close. Can you hear blood moving thought your body? Puke. Avoiding the monthly visitation. Man in white loved my dreams. 1 year 4 months and 17 days ago. And today what? Is there a cure for mind. All they give is poison in chemical sleeve. The beauty in the silver wrap. Too many steps. Too little. Doors. Where was the wrap of heaven when it was needed? God is on my side! Yes! Between the lips, inside the. DO you look at your self enough? To see the shit layering it self around the oral intake?  

On the main step before the entrance there is a parade of emptiness. Some vanity fair for the gifted. It's on the page 73 of the manual. You are in rotation. Blessing the market value. In the clean view, there is too many titles. But be forgiven and forgotten. Time value dropped. Cola won the debate. Sing spells: 


Under new Management. 
A bullet proof vest.
 A poster child.
A model citizen
 A balanced act.







Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Devine Intervention - Sinful Interaction



The eadge of the... Stay in my heart, forever! Till I cant breath. 
Till collarbones break. Till limbs fall off.
Till all blood leaves the bodie. Till fields dry and die.

LOVER

Stay here, till I can't see.
Till the colors change and consume eachother. 
Till land freezes and eliminates all that is living.

STAY 

Till I scratch gods will into your back. Till sky in no longer clear.
Till all around us die. Till I am the only organism to feed on.
Till I consume the bullet and swallow the barrel.

STAY...

Till my wonderland destroys it self. 
Till white dress turn RED!
Till these walls burn down and fall crashing us.
Till they can no longer find us.
Till poison stop working.
Till I overdose on you!
Stay!
So I can see how far we can go.
In this horror they call LIFE.




United We Stand
United We Die




Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder,
Sonia Dietrich 

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Breath Filled with Bodily Fluids



Remember me. The taste. As it can be the ...
last stop 
train that separates and we 
separate on platforms.
in carages. Disposed clarity. The certainty.

F A L L I N I G

Tear and postcards. Picture. Naked bodies. Videos.
My mouth looks perfect.
And it burns. Every cell and every pore.
I question my self. Seeing the man you are and been 
before
me. 

we love!
C R A W L I N G

In my intestine there is a sharp
bradded cross.


If I could, I would become a spare part in an unknowns mechanism. Close to earth but far away from here. Then body would become fearless and not so organ challenged. Then Brautigan would not look like the last resort. I fear him, like Joyce. As thoughts are so close it makes me become a part of the agony. A plot. The genocide of sanity. The knowledge that will break my bones. Eventually. This is why.

I NEED TO GET RID OF THE BODY

Body is a useless sack of fluids that rarely have any real meaning, and then there is a head. Poisoned blood stream. Socially challenged parallax view. But, it is what it is, never counted on the other body to save this body. Save. Safe. Saved. And so, there is plan, a long term plan how to eliminate the last element that holds his thing form the main idea and the goal of

BECOMING AN ENTETY!








Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich 


Sunday, March 11, 2012

Concrete Ejaculation Calles LOVE



Pierce me like a syringe with your honesty
tell me all the things I presumably do not know
in ventricle spirals, 
The flesh that is sacrificed for knowledge and prosperity  is fucking 
with the fluid filled cavities 

Your horror of deception is condescending, 
elaborating need for touch 
on timetable marked red patches
I could embrace your index

Is this you, who I must gather form the corner 
of the counter, licking the fingers
I hold on to my coffee cups 
discriminating the food,
you fools!

This altar of sanity in the hands stretched out to wide
is showing the oblivion of thought 
for many reasons undressing in the central station 
in the hall way, 

This is not why I came here - For







Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich 

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Purple Tulips and Puss in the Water


As I was standing in my own darkness. Covering the horror of the body with white wail, you looked. Away. In to a distance. Determent to see the things that where never yours. The shame. The nakedness. The presence of a shadow. 

The thought...

Blood was covering the toes. 
Leaching out puss from a wounded secret place. A privet place. A beautiful place. It's not the hateful nature. It's the blue skyline that hammers me to the floor. Pulsating ear drums. Open dress. Rapture sticking on the knee caps. Cold Hands. 
Slightly bloated skin. 

The body...

On the road covering eyelids in black tar. Denying the bruises. 7th circle of Dante's hell. Putting the foot down at the 5th. Show me the glory of your kind. The river of thought. Show me! I would scratch your eyes out while you molest the glory of young flesh.
Till poison is working.

The harmony...



Somehow we forget the blessings of the throne. 
The power of the swollen gender. 



Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Silent Usher





STOP! 
... 
for a second. Bend back. I puked you out 17 minutes and 13 seconds ago. You left your hands print in my shower. Shaped as a heart with 5 fingers. You left condoms in my trash. You left...

I stayed...

There is no shame in staying. Going to. Asymmetrically physical perception of the common day. Doing the dishes. Tulips you brought never blossomed. You left. 

I stayed...

There are pictures of you body parts on my walls. Blurred images in thick black frames. Nail polish particles in your shirt pocket. Guess my color. A creature! Body. Flesh. Skin. Meat. Muscles. Veins. Fat. Bones. 
SeX

Your. Organs! You left.

Behind. 

I stayed! 

This will never make any sense to anyone who left. 
But will
to someone 
who
stayed
.


love 
it 
is 

guess



Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich

Monday, January 30, 2012

Ode to the Visionary Within





‎"You cannot find peace by avoiding life"



And it was here where it all started. Where it all changed. Where all so simple became so very complicated.  I watched the shadows of the chandeliers play with the ceiling all to quiet. Seeing things from a frozen perspective of the own being. Where there is not many options to give out the information hidden with in. And the saddest thing of all, it never comes out right. Perhaps one should give it away in some strange form of yet unknown, unborn monster. To let it go, out of any possible disfunction… You have to let go at times to regain the balance - vise words…. But oh, what is the balance. Life and death is balance. But what else. What else is balance and where to find it. The love, the pain. The lie and the holy truth. Perhaps some of us find balance in disfunction. But in the end of the line all search for same pebbles and landmarks. We read book after book, desperately dry our eyes in front of computer screens. We sit in cinemas watching our lives on the screen part and get glued back together again. Searching. Always searching… for beauty, love, understanding and the holy communion. We crave same emotions and for better or worse, suffer from the same touch. 




Like the feeling you get from gently touching your own palm. This strange sensation and realization that you have A BODY. That strange and fascinating thing. BODY that shrinks in to NO BODY and then into NOBODY. How does it happens. How do one become nobody… 
It's in that moment, and that moment only you leave the BODY. Calmly. Understanding the taste your life is leaving in somebodies mouth. How skin cells fall down and multiply our chances to see each other again. It's that moment, and that moment only that can bring us the lost connections of the past. I embrace the moment. Keeping in under the pillow. 
The day of loss is difficult to describe. It covers you. Numbness. The settle cold breeze inside the lungs. Empty headed. You reach to do something and freeze. Nothing comes out. You settle, flashing pictures appear and you see a coffin. The marble room. The face in the box. People around the box. I could not be there, with them. The funeral. Strange.




In the church light was dim. Smell of candles, boys where cleaning the carpets. Somehow there was no emotional response. Recollection of the last time seen, last conversation. Last embrace, the kiss that was given not to honestly. The words that where suppose to be sincere (sin)... where they? Someone was talking and … the glass had erupted, cover the land with million different peaces. I excepted the difference and the loss. Complicated. It's a blunt object hitting on the back of the knees when you are trying to learn how to walk. C O M L I C A T E D.  How come. Self absorbed. Making things be what they are not. No. It did not work. Out. I … waiting for the …. last train to the seas side. It's too cold, regretting the journey I wish to step back, from the platform. From the oblivion of wires, arguments, flower arrangements on the wreath, last words and he said she said paraphrasing. Cocktail banners and black eye liner. Evening dress, a corset and a hat with a veil. Covering all the unseen. Pre-ordered. The paradox. The body language. Lean forward, lean back. Touch the elbow, the chin, lick the finger. Looking down, then to the side again. Eyes half closed. The stranger in the mirror. Of life. Of coincidence… 



Even when, do not want to talk, you tell me about your day 
You do not know me - I do not understand you
I used to sleep naked, now sleep in my favorite bra
It's my skin under the camouflage blanket - blackened
Afraid of the covers - the bed 
This purple sky of day - It's not their night



I kneel in front of these words. It becomes a ritual. Cold air from the old white windows on the sixth floor is letting trough cold air. The air likes my back. My neck. Little loose peaces of hair trembles with every breath. I touch my eyes. Open them again in write compulsively till words make no sense.  Freedom not too far away. Almost reachable. Almost there. Your shadow is standing in front of me. We do not talk. Exchange smoke rings. They pierce though. Who am I. Who where you. What are they. 





Oh, how funny all this magic. Levitating on the last step. So it is. On different sides we stand.



Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich 

p.s. all images except of the 'Ladder' magazine cover are copyright by Sonia Dietrich 

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Momental Mental Idealism




There is a moment when in pain mind separates from the body. Body becomes almost pointless. Senseless. Obscure. Mind becomes clear. Pure. Passionate. Afterwards it left the feeling of rapturing parts. Something snapped. Quite loudly. I could feel the sound. Somewhere between blather and uterus. Something just died. I still cant put my finger on it, what it was and what it could be. That something left decaying, rotting roots inside of me. Opened and burned. For a second there was a momentary high… and thus how come this neat body contain such a distorted mind.




I don't know what it was. Water covered me. I do not remember the face. Just the corner of the lip. I want to dress all in white and walk barefoot on the snow. To disappear in it and melt away in spring. This place is too red. Somehow. Do not feel gravity. It disobeyed me. Lightheaded. Towers of lost and forgotten cities on the flip side of sanity. 




I could sit like this for hours. Days. Weeks. I would pee and puke under myself till time stoped. Would dismember once body to drive though the veins as maps of lost lands. The ambitions that overpower our existence are blinding. Should one realize when it's time to let go, or still try to reattach the missing parts for the better future. Never understood people. The way they communicate inside the glass boxes and podiums. Something is clearly missing. The venom. 

Inside the days that turn to night all too fast, outside the lands that burn to slow. Inside the arms that spread not too often. You. Me. Them. One is searching for a mystery that is not there. As it just is non existing. I skip time, it lies to me. Playing tricks. How is it suppose to make sense. Nick names and time limitation. Visiting hours are over. 




And lips are red, blood covered and ripped at one side. Yours are bare. Remind them of a doll. Walking in passages, you do not wish to see. Read. Listen. My warranty is ending. Bending. 

"So tell me, how does the blind man paint?" A woman paints with her heart. Soul. A man…  Burn myself with the coldness of the glass. Full then empty again. Drinking tequila from wine glasses. Night is covering. It's a rase. The price is unknown. Make same mistakes in parallels they chase one another, till one is senseless. Breathless. 

Hate. Lust. Love. Power. Empowerment. Catching glimpses of reality. Guessed it right. Number 800. Where is the mighty land and mind. Where is the sold dignity. Where is the glory of the future. Where is…



***

"What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun." 




Good Night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich 

Saturday, January 7, 2012

in short - How I Observed London - part I


I was siting in bed eating hot porridge watching cold wind, that came from an open window dancing for me. The 7th of January. Tracey Emin's book was in my lap. It's the 3rd sunny day in a row, finely the weather forecast was honest and did some justice for us - light seekers. So tired and bended after the seasonal mishmash of friers, booze, drugs, and family dinners. Traveling and work plans, setting year goals for the so parsed year 2012. Loose some weight, eat healthy, don't get hight so oftener, be nice to people, stay true to your self and fight for the things you believe in. DO NOT BACK DOWN! ART! ART! A + R + T my secret code! 
And then…Strange, my fingers are not yet used to type this number, I always get confused. and type something like 1202. Sun keeps distracting me. I left one last chapter of "STRANGELAND" to keep me company while the sun hides again. Don't want it to end, neither the sun, neither Tracey. Her words and my thought are made from same soil. 




And then it strikes me, the recollections form London and the feel it all left inside my mouth. The taste. The smell of the polluted air. I can see how people get lost in cities like that. It's a dangerous place to be, if you are not quite there. Yet. Ever. 
I scrambled these little notes in note pads, cigaret packs, and self messaged them to myself. Just not to forget. Then I remembered that I still have one more story from the wonderful and cold Berlin. I am either lazy, or it's just not the right time for it… the baby is still unborn. 


From London High Ways 

This is so gay, that is so lesbian. oh and it is so bisexual. Push the triple X on XXX. She sing "Fuck the pain away" I decided to fuck my brain away. Fuck the body away. Fuck the body, give birth to the mind and then fuck the infant. Fuck became sexless. Genderless. Speechless. Timeless. Roses are red and violets are blue, world is full of hatred but i still love you? Fuck you, consume you? 

* * *

On the bus three was woman crying, she was talking to her family, then her kid was on the phone. The child was telling how he missed her, and told about his day. woman silently cried not releasing a single sound, her tears where whipped off with a pink tissue. Bus was empty. Bus terminated here, she left the tissue on her seat. 
World is full of sadness, I embrace you? 

* * * 

London is full of pretenses, glitter and luminous trees. Gardens and street corners with golden displays. Under which steal animals, the shopping carriages live with their homeless owners. We walk around in circles, we change bus after bus, end up in the parsons green district, counsel houses 2/4. Plane after plane dreamers leave this earth. World is full of hunger, I dissect you? 

* * *

London is genderless, but up tight and judgmental? Maybe. Homophobic flat mates and clueless embraces. Who are you under the pink? Too much pride in wrong places. This is a true act of apocalypse. When suddenly gay curious is the new black. Having no respect and actual realization why. The stupidity. It seems some people are still living in the 19th century. Why not burn it all down then. World is full of stupidety, I respect you?


* * * 
* * * 



I still have much more pictures I want to show you. But sadly it takes a while for 35mm film. But as I promised, I will. All that I promised, I really will. 



Good night and god bless,
Queen of Disorder
Sonia Dietrich