Roberto Piva: Eight Manifesti
THE MINOTAUR OF MINUTES
The cardinal points of our elements are: betrayal, incomprehension of the utility of windowpanes, Totem’s rollercoaster violence, breaking with the labyrinth & nerves of the narrow beak of Logic, against your sugared ecstasy, you doglike beings who feel a need for infinity, we the short circuit, darkness & shock against your cute lyric message, against spangles for caracoles, against the vagina for the anus, against specters for phantasms, against stairways for railways, against Eliot for the Marquis de Sade, against polenta for ragu, we are perfectly schizophrenic, we know by our paranoia that we must draw away from the three-striped flag whose representatives are the poetry-embroiderers strewn all over the city.
TEA-KETTLES, BILE & BALLS
We invite everyone to enter into dissolution & deregulation. Life mustn’t succumb to the tourniquet of Conscience. Life is always bursting into the furthest beyond. Down with schools, may the potheads triumph. We must be unafraid to allow our Fecal Soul to explode. Methodists, psychologists, attorneys, engineers, students, bosses, workers, chemists, scientists, against you we uphold the spirit of Youth. Down with Welfare; who needs it? We are deliciously unorganized & usually associate ourselves with Liberty.
MACHINE FOR MURDERING TIME
Here we hurl ourselves into the attack on the immortal soul of cabinets. We’re looking for friends who aren’t serious: macumbeiros, trustworthy madmen, dethroned emperors, deaf nuns, lowborn thugs with hemorrhoids & all who loathe monochrome dreams of Arcadian poetry. We know very well that the tenderness of little ribbons is a protozoan luxury. Be violent as gastritis. Down with gilded butterflies. Behold the glittering contents of latrines.
THE CATHEDRAL OF DISORDER
Our battle was started by Nero & is inspired by his dying words: “Look, how beautiful are the eyes of that idiot.” Only disorder unites us. Skeptically, Barbarously, Sexually. Our Cathedral is impregnated by the great spectacle of Disaster. We are manifest against dawn for nightfall, against the Lambretta for the motorcycle, against booze for pot, against tennis for boxing, against the radio patrol for the Lady of the Camelias, against Valery for D.H. Lawrence, against storks for possums, against the future for the present, against wells for cesspools, against Eliot for the Marquis de Sade, against the gasbomb of civil servants for the chiclets of the eunuchs & their concubines, against Hegel for Antonin Artaud, against the violin for the trap kit, against responsibilities for sensations, against the careers of businessmen for pale faces & night-visions, against Mondrian for Di Chirico, against mechanics for Dream, against dragonflies for crabs, against Cartesian eggs for castor oil, against the natural son for the bastard, against the government for a chef’s convention, against archangels for homosexual cherubim, against the invasion of butterflies for the invasion of locusts, against mind for body, against Jardim Europa for Praça da República, against sky for earth, against Vergil for Catullus, against logic for Magic, against magnolias for sunflowers, against the lamb for the wolf, against regulation for Compulsion, against lamp-posts for the luminous, against Christ for Barrabas, against professors for shamans, against noon for midnight, against religion for sex, against Tchaikovsky for Carl Orff, against everything for Lautréamont.
THOSE WHO BECOME CARCASSES
ROBERTO PIVA S.P. MARCH 1962
IN DEFENSE OF POETRY & DELERIUM
To the great god Dagon with eyes of fire,
to Dionysus, god of vegetation, to the god
Puer who hypnotizes the universe with his
diamond anus, to the god Scorpion
piercing the head of the Angel, to the god
Luper who defies the rodent galaxies,
to Ba’al, god of black stone, to Xangô
the cock-god, fecundator of Storm.
I defend every Human being’s right to Bread & Poetry
We’re being destroyed in our biological nucleus,
ours & the animals’ vital space is reduced to
What I mean is that civilization’s torniquet is
provoking bodily pain & hysterical slather
delerium’s been stripped from the Theory of Knowing
& our schools are at least a century behind
the latest scientific discoveries in the fields
of physics, biology, astronomy, language,
space exploration, religion, ecology,
provoking abandonment of schools to the ruin of language &
in vocational programs where no one ever
studies Einstein, Gerard de Nerval, Nietszche,
Gilberto Freyre, J. Rostand, Fourier, W.
Heinsenberg, Paul Goodman, Virgil, Murilo
Mendes, Max Born, Sousândrade, Hynek, G. Benn,
Barthes, Robert Sheckley, Rimbaud, Raymond
Roussel, Leopardi, Trakl, Rajneesh, Catullus, Crevel,
Saint Francis, Vico, Darwin, Blake, Blavatsky,
Krucënych, Joyce, Reverdy, Villon, Novalis,
Marinetti, Heidegger & Jacob Boehme anymore
& for this reason our schools have cogulated into Chickencoops
where hysteria is hatched, stiff necks & sexual
& there no longer exists an exit to be unlocked &
become a Cinema where toddlers &
teenagers can still follow Fantasy’s tracks
by sailing three sheets to the wind in darkness.
Brasilian political parties are not in the least
bit concerned with bringing UTOPIA to daily life.
Therefore, in the name of the mental health of the younger generation
I DEMAND the following:
- Turn the Praça da Sé into a collective public garden.
- Distribute works by Brasilian poets to the boys & girls of Febem, which is the only thing capable of transforming their violence & anguish into the music of the spheres.
- Saunas for the people.
- Urgent construction of public lavatories (few exist, proof positive that our politicians never go on Foot) & mirrors.
- Make the jaguar (spotted, black & panther) our Totem of Nationality. Organize Societies for the Protection of the Jaguar in its Natural Habitat. Unbind the jaguars living in zoos & return them to the forests. Call for volunteers to communicate telepathically with jaguars so that we may know their real concerns. All jaguars will therefore be able to spend a period of two weeks among humans & in this time they will be able to act as teachers & guides for blind children.
- Creation of an efficient policy of generous public dissemination of information about Flying Saucers. Let there be formed societies dedicated to contact & exchange of information. Let erotic relations between terrestrials & UFO crews be facilitated.
- New orientation of the neurons through Harmonized Gastronomy & Respiration.
- Distribution to all sexologists of manuals explaining how anal sex will overthrow Kapital.
- Banquets for the whole population thrown by the Industrial Federation.
- Provoke the insurgence of the Metaphysical Bossa-Nova & the Pornosamba.
The State keeps people forever busy so that they WILL NOT think erotically as libertarians. Novalis, the poet of German Romanticism who contemplated the Blue Flower, tells us: “When one is old, in order to be very happy, one must avoid juvenile gatherings. Now is the time for literary orgies. The more varied the life, the better.”
Signed & attested,
S. Paulo 1983
Cosmic Hour of the Tiger
THE XXI CENTURY WILL GIVE ME REASON
(if everything doesn’t blow up beforehand)
The XXI Century will give me reason to abandon, in language & in action, Christian, Eastern & Western civilization with their technology of extermination & scrap iron, their computers that control, their morals, their drivelling poets, their cancer-that-no-one-can-find-the-cause-of, their fucking nuclear rockets, their demographic explosion, their poisoned vegetables, their legislative crime syndicates, their gangster ministers, their minister gangsters, their left-fascist parties, their training-ship women, their various uniforms, their electronic cassettes, their Spanish flu, their unified order, their suicide epidemic, their sedentary literati, their cultural watchdogs, their pro-Cuba, anti-Cuba, their CP door-mats, their right-wing bidets, the stale water on their brains, their sempiternal shrewdness, their cups of tea, their manuals of aesthetics, their global village, all their sapient talking heads, their jails, their little smoked-glass gardens, their paralytic televised dreams, their coquettes, their rivers full of sardine tins, their prayers, their pancakes crammed in with disgust, their last hopes, their tripes, their August moonlight, their bores, their embalmed cities, their sadness, their cheerful cretins, their leprosy, their cage, their strychnine, their tides of mud, their fountains of despair.
Cosmic Hour of the Water Buffalo
MANIFESTO OF THE VERY NEXT FOREST
abolition of every conviction
that lasts longer than a mood
— Àlvaro de Campos
for Henri Michaux
Chemical products, the pharmaceutical industry, will gnaw your bones to the marrow / vitamin-rich cadaver / eddies in the river of industry / ideological bureaucrats dying of laughter / Marxists who took power after their prostrates were yanked out / vast deserts in the Brain / politicians statistics cancer on the empty face of Night’s thoroughfares / women waylaying wild boys & sending them down the Path of Righteousness / hissing & hunger of the true steaming cock / Robert Graves, Brillat-Savarin & the refrain of my desires / Ecological Witchery in the Minotaur Cuisinart / vegetables incinerated in mercury / KGB stompings & harrowing songs / Time in the bone / Television / Centaur on the way to Revolt / stars suspended in soot / catechism of Industrial Perseverence / Governments exist to give you that beaten-dog quality / Governments exist to make you think about politics & forget about what gets you all hot & bothered / Nuclear Batuki Angel-Furnace / urban-industrial poetry in a new rhythm / City set in pre-Collapse ugliness / to recreate new tribes / to renounce your beaten paths / erotic route poetic route / Horace & Lester Young / Boy-tribes in the forests / drums calling to Orgy / bonfires & aphrodisiac plants / To abandon the cities / for beaches littered with the skeletons of Monsters / for horizons drunk as left-field angels / Earth my sister / let us enter the rain that makes incline our passage to Guaimbês / Sacred Delinquency of those who live at the limits / From Chaos, from social Anarchy is born the maddening light of Poetry / To create new religions, new physical forms, new political anti-systems, new forms of life / To go forth adrift on the river of Existence.
Cosmic Hour of the Eagle
SP October of 84
MANIFESTO OF SHAMANIC POETRY & BIO-ALCHEMY
- The world is places of power
- Shamanic sacralization of the quotidian
- Bio-regional prespectives
- Wild & Sacred
- Hawks are power-bearing solar divinities
- Horus-Falcon king of the two lands
- The Language’s Ecology
- Altered states of consciousness
- The Hawk speaks through our mouths
- Shaman: inspired poet-priest who in an ecstatic trance travels the inner world, the forests, seas & mountains & who reaches the skies on his “journeys”. Dante was a shaman-kabbalist who, on his voyage through the 3 worlds, met the turbulent orixás of Shadow
- The hawk’s divine eye transforms into flowering plants
- ISIS, Black Virgin, mother of Horus
- The Hawk soars above the metro-necropolises
- Divinity of the limits of the Horizon
- “The orgy circulates energy vital & Sacred.” (M. Eliade)
- “Marginality is formed by those who are “out” — those who have no access to established power, either involuntarily because of their their misery, or voluntarily, by their own aesthetic-religious choice”. (Timothy Leary)
- Let Vision come
- It’s time for the gods of the desert to depart & for the gods of vegetation to arrive
- Sacred conspiracy of the anonymous terraqueans & the warriors of Zuwya
- State of sensory knowing
- “Shoot the arrows of your young voices in celebration for the delight of this earth” (Pindar)
- Hawk’s underground island. The Book of Coming Forth by Day. Bardo Todol. Orixás & quantic life. The shaman’s way is the way of Heart
SHAMANS FOR THE NEW CONSCIOUSNESS
- First posted by Berkeley Neo-Baroque Gang of One, April 22, 2006
- Under continual revision and augmentation
- Reproduction rights granted upon request
- When I met the self-professed monarchist Roberto Piva (b. 1937) in São Paulo, he said, so thrillingly, to me, “O, Chris Daniels, you look like the Roman Emperor Vitellus”. It became clear to me that he assumed I was gay. This has happened more than once, and it’s always felt like the highest possible compliment. Later on, he asked me if I used to be a speed-freak and then laughed uproariously, with me, when I told him that though I was a total dopefiend in my day, my jaw sometimes works and I sometimes make odd faces because I have a stutter
- Piva is highly revered by many poets in Brasil