STEP 1. Do a word-cento of OG (G for groovy) James
          Van Looy, The Reprobate and the Hypocrites.
(In non-shpiggidity-shpaggidity
          speak, this basically means just rearrange the words
          of a poem however you see fit, but only using
                          the words of the poet, particularly the words
                                        in only one poem of said poet.)
Maybe you want to set mood while doing your word-cento?
          Incentovise the muse, eh?
For instance, try listening to Guess Who, “No Sugar Tonight
          (New Mother Nature)”
in Hotchkiss Park (Santa Monica, CA), cross-legged &
with your groovy, psychedelic mask over your new-age
                          N-95.

ONE Republic Golly Gee

Seize mass surveillance ONE cries
               serial hypocrites of life!
We’re institutionally punctuated
               by controls sociopathic yet
               acting out.
Do nothing.

Torturous towers look for
               regime episode accountability!

Yes, ONE finally clueless!
Yes, ONE finally outing dilapidated
               personal heavens!

Yes! Yes!
ONE reprobate space!

Relief sighs every backward word
               forward,

not surprising humanity…

 

STEP 2. Compose a meditative insert. (This is kinda tough
            to explain. Really, it’s whatever gets your grooviness
                          going…but in a meditative way and with a
                                          hard-on for poetry.
                          Music is a terrific drug to get you
                                                              in the spirit…)
                                          so is spontaneity…)
                                          For instance, try putting on some music and spinning
around in circles in the park, while you’re writing down
whatever enters your noggin. Today, I recommend The Who,
                                          I can see for miles! — because I have contacts on.
                                                                                    (Take ‘em off & I’m like…
                                                                                                  Who are you? Whooo?
                                                                                                                Whooo?)

Meditative Insert
                            Dedicated to Chris [insert last name here]
                            for helping and recording me being goofy.

Freedom cannot descend
      into the magic
    in    your            bus    of    the
squid    whose
    tentacles
leaned your aching
limbs into the
abyssal others again
over heaven and hello
I can see who you
become not the window
of perception as
you relinquish
the crimson colored
                                    sky
holding your threesome holy
trinity in Trinidad
y I why am I
I I I

Can see for the life of
dizzy belittlement
as merciful
eyes ar-Rahman
cesspool idolatry

I know you
deceive
the river and the
spiritus flatus
obelisk perpetuality
drum rolling down the
metallic mountain
leaflets atomic
crystalized space
I can see!
I can see psychedelic
chimney sweeps Santa
politics emotive…
relish the taste of destiny.

 

STEP 3. Put on Baby Grandmothers,
Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out (1967),
and combine the meditative insert
and word-cento into a groovalicious
sober-acid-trip called poetry:
aka living life free and
full of sunshine — a rhythmic
sunshine machine…yes, you are!
Peace out, Groovytown!

 

ONE Republic Golly Gee (final version)

Seize mass surveillance ONE cries
               serial hypocrites of life!
Freedom cannot descend
               into the magic.
We’re institutionally punctuated
               by controls sociopathic yet
               acting out
in your bus of the
“Do-nothing” squid, whose tentacles
I can see
you become
Torturous towers of perception
as you look for
               regime episode accountability!
Relinquish the crimson sky
               over heaven and hello—
Yes, ONE finally clueless
               widow your threesome holy
               trinity in Trinidad—
Why am I?
Yes, ONE finally outing dilapidated
               personal heavens’
               cesspool idolatry
               spiritus flatus!
Yes! Yes! leaflets atomic!
ONE reprobate space!
                              I can see!
I can see psychedelic
               chimney sweeps Santa
               politics emotive,
Relief sighs every backward word
               forward.
Can you see the dizzy belittlement?
Relish the task of destiny,
not surprising humanity…

Step Three of cento, Handwritten Page

 

Joshua Corwin, a Los Angeles native, is a neurodiverse, Pushcart Prize-nominated poet and Spillwords Press Publication of the Month winner. His debut poetry collection Becoming Vulnerable (2020) details his experience with autism, addiction, sobriety and spirituality. He has lectured at UCLA, performed at the 2020 National Beat Poetry Festival, and his Beat poetry is to be anthologized alongside Ferlinghetti, Hirschman, Ford, Coleman and weiss late this year (Sparring Omnibus, Mystic Boxing Commission). He hosts the poetry podcast “Assiduous Dust” and teaches poetry to neurodiverse individuals and autistic addicts in recovery at The Miracle Project, an autism nonprofit.

Readers are encouraged to submit their own cento (complete with meditative insert) in the comment seciton of the Incentovise column.

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