Watchfiends and Rack Screams Quotes

“All writing is pigshit.”
― Antonin Artaud, Watchfiends and Rack Screams: Works from the Final Period

“... not once more will/I be found with beings/who swallowed the rail of life//And one day I found myself with beings/who swallowed the nail of life/-as soon as I lost my matrix mamma,//and the being twisted under him,/and god poured me back to her/(the motherfucker)...”
― Antonin Artaud, Watchfiends and Rack Screams: Works from the Final Period

“There is nothing more useless than a organ. When you have given him a body without organs, then you will have delivered him from all his automatisms and restored him to his true liberty.”
― Antonin Artaud, Watchfiends and Rack Screams: Works from the Final Period

“(from) ARTAUD THE MOMO-

In the humus of the plot with wheels,
on the breathing humus of the plot
of this void,
between hard and soft.

Black, violet,
rigid,
recreant
and that's all.

Which means that there is a bone,
where
god
sat down on the poet,
in order to sack the ingestion
of his lines,
like the head farts
that he wheedles out of him through his cunt,

that he would wheedle out of him
from the bottom of the ages,
down to the bottom of his cunt hole,

and it's not a cunt prank
that he plays on him in this way,
it's the prank of the whole earth
against whoever has balls
in his cunt.

And if you don't get the image,
--and that's what i hear you saying
in a circle,
that you don't get the image
which is at the bottom
of my cunt hole,--

it's because you don't know the bottom,
not of things,
but of my cunt,
mine,
although since the bottom of the ages
you've all been lapping there in a circle
as if badmouthing an alienage,
plotting an incarceration to death.


ge re ghi
regheghi
geghena
e reghena
a gegha
riri


Between the ass and the shirt,
between the gism and the under-bet,
between the member and the let down,
between the membrane and the blade,
between the slat and the ceiling,
between the sperm and the explosion,
'tween the fishbone and 'tween the slime,
between the ass and everyone's
seizure
of the high-pressure trap
of an ejaculation death rattle
is neither a point
nor a stone

burst dead at the foot of a bound

nor the severed member of a soul
(the soul is nothing more than an old saw)
but the terrifying suspension
of a breath of alienation

raped, clipped, completely sucked off
by all the insolent riff-raff
of all the turd-buggered
who had no other grub
in order to live
than to gobble
Artaud
momo
there, where one can fuck sooner
than me
and the other get hard higher
than me
in myself
if he has taken care to put his head
on the curvature of that bone
located between anus and sex,

of that hoed bone that i say

in the filth
of a paradise
whose first dupe on earth
was not father nor mother
who diddled you in this den,
but
I
screwed into my madness.”
― Antonin Artaud, Watchfiends and Rack Screams: Works from the Final Period

“- And do you know what the Americans and the Russians make their atoms with? They make them with the microbes of god.

- You are raving, Mr Artaud. You are mad.

- I am not raving. I am not mad. I'm telling you that microbes have been reinvented in order to impose a new idea of god.”
― Antonin Artaud, Watchfiends and Rack Screams: Works from the Final Period