Mouth 5

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photo - tino marschne


Soundbites/ Re-write 4.0 To be read as dialogue/ Internal monologue/ No front breaks/ I/ve been searching and I/ve been learning/ I/m not content so nothings are changing/ It/s spring and I/m sitting here huffing away on this/ getting my fingers all in a knot over it/ It/s spring and the things I/m talking are the way I/m walking/ The things I learn feel like the things I know/ It doesn/t matter where I sleep/ Why/ when or how I sleep/ As long as there/s sleep/ R/evolution begins with the weed growing in the cracks/ The later the coffee the longer the night/ Some doors you push/ some doors you pull/ Some things you drink/ Some things you spill There are no ideas without discussion/ No discussion without ideas/ No ideas without fear/ Fear not the ideas

I biked home fast so I could get this down/ The vodka I mean/ It/s a good looking town The highlights in your eyes are the sum of the seasons/ There doesn/t have to be a reason There are no give way signs in this town/ It/s easier to get around/ With the sounds = Battles/ Man Man/ Cold War Kids/ Xploding Plastix/ Pivot/ Apparat/ Comets on Fire/ Babes in Toyland Can you tell me more/ Please Everyone/s talking but not everyone will listen It/s not so black and white after all/ It Is so much easier with sound bites/ test test/

photo and text: diane sittinger

photo: merina yamada


’m pretty sure it was meant to be this way.

ver since that early morning wake up call, when something pulled the trigger and my lungs caught first wind and gave them an ear full or two, ever since then I am fairly certain it was meant to unravel like this. From the white hospital lights to the green valley, the fussy eating with fingers and the packed school lunches, through the hazy neon 90’s suburban growth spurt, discovering the trips and the tunes, travelling and conversing, it’s almost definately some predefined progression. Learning and discovery, ego and conscious, love and loss.. the stuff one might be inclined to write about.


nd it is most possibly the same for everbody. The blurred faces you see out of the train window are all streaked with different stories. The ones you elbow in the line all have their tall tales. I’d wager it was meant to be the way it is for them too. Everyone is a mothers fathers daughters brothers lovers first last beginning and end. Everyone is a warmonger peacemaker fighter and forgiver. Everyone is painted in a myriad different strokes of the same brush.


veryone has a beginning and an end, and a broad space inbetween those lonely quotation marks for whatever merrymaking the imagination can conjure.


ot everyone has the same chances or the same tools. Not everyone has the same freedoms and securities, resources and rights. Some people’s stories are starless nights. There is despair and desperation. Oppression and inequality share the same miserable bed.


echnology is moving fast. The earth is groaning under our weight. Awareness is spreading like wildfire. Happiness is a pleasant plague that outwits the soulless thugs. The helmet clad henchmen sent from below to secure the treasury are crumbling under independent action that evolves from within communities.


veryone is in it together and we are all coming screaming out of our mothers and demanding more.


’m pretty sure it was meant to be this way.

photo and text : lea fabrikant

So who am?


ail moneproductions@gm the email address is su ial the font is nothing spec it all te the challenge is to crea

we are half truth traders, soul invaders, space savers with electric shavers, grocery store raiders, deep night ravers, a friendly bunch.

last picture show.....

photo - nathan taare

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