this is a space for artists & poets of all different media to present works & to express ideas, comments, scraps, notes, rants, statements on anything & in any way they please. I wanted to have a space where artists & poets from all different points of view, styles, cultures, can present & discuss, comment on, each other's works. To encounter the works of other artists & poets in a freedom of existence and exchange, and to learn a lot and have a good time, too!
The name "Nos Obras Otros"indicates the works are a shared "Other" of each artist, an Other without any limitations or labels imposed.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010


The young girl represented by the statue, a grave --& grim--memorial to the first child victim of the automobile in the usa--

Children taken and turned into killers--and the exploitation of children beyond the grave--children killed turned into sentimental sloganeering--of what nature? The loss of innocence brought abt by family driven death machines? An accident--or a preplanned and staged "public snuff event" to titillate the new forms of Eros stimulated by new techno-tools & toys--?

Pyramid power!! The power of pulsing, vibrating onanistic stimulation provided by handheld phallic automatic weapons--toy guns, toy soldiers, adult wars, tortures, scopophilia--sexless pre teens turned into sex machines--for the benefit of repressed, sexuality haters living tensions of Erotic death wishes until they explode on the road, creating their own tabloid tableaux of Poe's poetic theme of the "death of a beautiful young woman . . . " whose bleeding lungs' expiration date is immortalized . . .immotorized . . automobile-immobilized--road kill for a thrill ride--

while eyes move like roving hands over the bodies of young men lugging about techno-phalli on the Long March to ritualized death--

The orgiastic orgasms of hit and run drivers--

In the cemetery-cooled bright light falling through the green arms of the Arboreal Guardians, amid strewn flowers and plastic ferns . . . statuary, inscriptions,al entered in the Guinness book of records, as though being the first to die is a competition--live fast--die young--leave a beautiful corpse . . . the thick throat clogging odors of death plants settle heavily on the mock marble benches, the elegantly shaped attention grabbing shoes of mourning-for-show, to be immortalized in flashy fotos--hallucinatory neo surrealism just dying for a shot--a foto shot a gun shot a shot of narcotics and/or booze--anything to anesthetize the boredom of the spectator, jealous of the sex lives of corpses--of torture victims--of young flesh grilled and drilled by cigarette butts and knives----the welding torch, the electric wires--the revival of waterboarding as a party game--

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