Hello writebuzzers.  This is not really a plot idea as such - more an area of personal interest.  I hope you will join in.

Write a poem or narrative - any length you like - about what you see on the way to work/the shops/whatever.  Save it on notepad and look up the grazulis burroughs cut up site (Google will get you there).  Paste in your work from notepad and let the machine cut it up.

Feel free to edit the result with regards punctuation etc. (so it makes a semblence of sense).  The juxtapositions and new constructions you get can really be something.  Taking away the brain's innate instinct to make grammatical order is liberating (Burroughs actually proposed that language is a virus that constrains and controls us).  Why not throw off those shackles for a while and have a go?

Jan Miklas

Clean

On my way to work I saw lots of jerks
Sitting in a queue to nowhere.
"Why are you here?" I asked them with a sneer.
"Because and why not?" the answer from the lot.

Cut

"my here?" I in the lot.
and you a to "why not?" nowhere.
Why are the answer lots to with a work sneer.
"Because", asked them On of jerks
Sitting from queue I saw way


Good fun and interesting! I particularly like an idea from the last line of the cut version. Sitting in a queue I saw the way.

Dirty

Rumble ragged rumble down the city’s rugged back,
Slice of window shimmers to and fro,
Reflecting sickly shaking yellow innards of the bus,
So to a silhouetted scene of streetlamp glow,
Hissing to a sluggard straining stop,
Braking aching stumble,
Diesel engine grumble,
Huddle now this glass and metal shelter,
Halfway down the homeward helter-skelter,

Dun rains now abated and the icy pools lie still,
Turncoat sky delivered from the day,
Dreamy oil paint puddles mirror crisply in the flesh,
Christmas creatures moving muted in the fray,
It’s become bitter black bones,
Dark December night,
Populace take flight,
The few remaining structures from the war,
Fingers from the past this skyline claw,

The stop is filling spilling out on gum-stain paving stones,
Debut mothers hard faced in the line,
Displaced asylum citizens wear patent leather shoes,
And a clubfoot fusilier steps in time,
Watches tick the seconds thick,
Razor wind lazy,
All gone crazy,
Freezing wheezing waiting for the bus,
No mutiny, no massacre, no fuss,

Washed away with memory the loathsome lurching ride,
This fizzing fume and heartless headlamp glare,
Unclassified and transient business clawing at the sides,
Shifting shadows shattered and austere,
Disembark from stark to dark,
Key in lock,
The naked knock,
A nail bludgeoned into place,
Another empty day laid waste.

Cut

Rumble ragged rumble down the city's homeward helter moving muted in the fray.  It's shoes and a clubfoot fusilier steps this loathsome lurching back, slice of window shimmers to and fro reflecting now creatures black bones:  dark December night, populace take flight.  The few seconds thick.  Razor and heartless headlamp glare.  Unclassified and transient bus.  So to a sluggard skelter.  Dun rains still, turncoat sky from the out on gum-stain paving in gone shadows shattered and the naked knock.  A nail bludgeoned grumble.  Huddle icy pools lie puddles mirror crisply in the line.  Displaced wind lazy, all mutiny, no massacre, lock, empty day laid waste. Rugged sickly straining stop; braking aching stumble; diesel shelter half-way down become bitter remaining structures stones, debut mothers hard-faced leather ride; this fizzing fume clawing at the into place; another this glass and metal now abated and the past asylum citizens wear patent time.  Watches tick the business austere.  Disembark from shaking yellow innards of delivered from the day.  Dreamy oil-paint from the war; fingers crazy.  Freezing wheezing waiting for the bus:  no memory sides, shifting to a silhouetted scene of streetlamp glow.  Hissing engine the flesh Christmas this skyline claw.  Bus stop filling spilling no fuss.  Washed away with stark to dark, key in.

Particularly taken with:  Dreamy oil paint from the war  &  hard-faced leather ride  &  all mutiny, no massacre.

Before

Today I think I saw the sun,
yes honestly, It was there.
As I lifted my roller blind
expecting more despair.
My SAD attack now almost gone,
stay out sun, you healing one.

After

attack now almost out  think It was more despair.
My SAD the Today I sun, you sun,
yes healing one, I saw there.
As blind
expecting gone,
stay honestly, I lifted my roller

Really dig the cut version - the first line rocks!

My version

Today’s ghostly sky unsettled me.
A clutter of rooks spilt across my path.
Tiny Shetland ponies dithered, heads bowed.
My stomach churned as I drove back home.

Grazulis-ified

Today’s clutter churned heads ghostly sky unsettled me.
of as ponies drove bowed.
My stomach back home.
rooks spilt Shetland I dithered, across my path. Tiny.

Love 'clutter churned heads'!

Clean

Thick, sludgy, frozen cloak.
Freezing fog is no joke.
Risk all to make it to the sales.
Hear how the ambulance siren wails.

Cut up

To siren to fog is make all  cloak.
Freezing it frozen. Thick, ambulance  sales.
Hear sludgy, the how wails.
The no joke risk .


Says it all!

After the break
Back to normal apparently
What if it wasn't normal before    

Cut up

Break back normal apparently
What  after  to before? Normal the if it  wasn't.


Fabulous!

Before
Spam, Spam, Bloody Spam 
Spam, spam, bloody spam.
Who do these Suckers think I am?
With weird subject titles, and absurd content
Do they really think that I will consent
And click where they ask me to
I mean, come on, what would they do?
It's totally outrageous. It's equally pathetic.
Let's call a halt to this mindless pandemic.

After
Spam, ask would outrageous. It's absurd me to
I mean, they content
Do they really think they consent
And click do?
It's a totally I am.
With weird subject will halt to this mindless pandemic. come on, what where titles, pathetic.
Let's call spam, that I Spam, bloody spam.
Who and equally Bloody Spam 
Spam, do these Suckers think

At least two pearls - "Let's call spam, that I Spam, bloody spam."  and "It's totally I am."

Before:

The men barricading the bar
resemble the dogs they keep.
It’s said behaviour’s drawn down the leash;
I’m not so sure that’s true.
The animals know best what happens here.
Meat raffle, strained smoke, and export lager.
On ecstatic pills they shuffle between melancholy and manic;
the puzzled sense there must be more
can’t shake them from the Vine.

The women haunting the tables
swill the ice in their drinks.
From hole-punched eyes and faulty smiles
the question begs at me:
was their kindness stolen or just buried real well?
They all sup drowning in the past,
taking on the meanness of the men who’ve left them,
inflicting these ghosts on someone new,
entwining them with the Vine.

I’m crumbling in the corner.
A last gasped cigarette
soaks up the bottleneck beer.
Do I really want to see?
Through this glass bottom lens there’s nothing between us.
Spilling over with burning boredom,
wishing I was someone, something, someplace else;
waiting for I don’t know what
to pluck me from the Vine.

After:

The men barricading the keep.
It’s true.
The happens ice at or just buried real in them,
inflicting new,
entwining boredom,
wishing what
to Vine.
bar
resemble the dogs they best what the kindness stolen well?
They all sup drowning on someone burning from the said behaviour’s drawn so sure that’s smiles
the question begs the past,
taking on men who’ve left I don’t know down the leash;
I’m not animals know faulty me:
was their the meanness of the these ghosts for pluck me here.
Meat raffle, strained ecstatic must from the Vine.

The women them with the corner.
A to lens there’s nothing between smoke, and export lager.
On shake them haunting the tables
swill Vine.

I’m crumbling in the glass bottom us.
Spilling over with pills they shuffle puzzled sense there in their drinks.
From last gasped cigarette
soaks I really want I was someone between melancholy and manic;
the be more
can’t hole-punched eyes and up the bottleneck beer.
Do see?
Through this something, someplace else;
waiting.

My four faves:        1)  I'm crumbling in the glass bottom (been there before)

                             2)  Puzzled sense there in their drinks (and there)

                             3)  I really want I was someone between melancholy and manic (and here)

                             4)  Strained ecstatic must from the Vine (perhaps a fine vintage?)

Original

Itching for their moment's glory
Always the same old story
Be it war, or be it peace
Looking for that same release
Politicians, leaders, takers
Officials, athletes, image-makers
Pop-stars, players, all who compete
Euphoric in victory, sour in defeat
Gambling all for their next fix
Winners are also losers
It’s what makes them tick

Cut-up

Itching for the losers
It’s all for their same old story
Be release
Politicians, leaders, it peace
Looking athletes, image-makers
Pop-stars, sour in defeat
Gambling next glory
Always that same in victory, what be fix
Winners are also compete
Euphoric for their moment's who makes them tick all takers
Officials, it war, or players,

Whta an interesting idea. Partcularly like:

1) Itching for the losers
2) Gambling next glory
3) Euphoric for their moment's who makes them tick all takers

Before

I wonder where dreams take us,
I wonder why.
I wonder how time plays tricks,
When it slips by.
I wonder about lifes' treasures.
The natural pearls.
I wonder who apportions sorrow
As life unfurls.

After
Pearls.
I wonder wonder about time dreams take by.
I wonder  I why.
I us,
I life how lifes' apportions wonder plays slips where tricks,
When it treasures.
The natural sorrow
As wonder who unfurls

Favourite
I wonder wonder about time dreams take by.

BEFORE

What you've done cannot be named.
Why so didst thou?  Why so didst thou?
The words have not yet been ordained.
Why so didst thou?  Why so didst thou?
Denied the language can I think it?
Devoid of mouthparts can drink it?
What you've done cannot be named.
Why so didst thou?  Why so didst thou?

What you've done steals every scene.
Why so didst thou?  Why so didst thou?
Bespoils and bludgeons every dream.
Why so didst thou?  Why so didst thou?
A thousand years won't see me through it.
Taking your life won't undo it.
What you've done cannot be named.
Why so didst thou?  Why so didst thou?

AFTER

What you've done it?
Devoid of mouthparts can drink dream.
Why so didst thou? see  Why so didst thou?
The so didst thou?  scene.
Why won't it.
What you've done cannot didst thou?  think didst thou?
Bespoils and bludgeons your life so didst.  Why so didst done didst thou?  Why be named.
Why so didst cannot be named.
Why so didst it?
What you've Why so every me through it.
Taking thou?
thou? words have cannot be named.
Why so didst thou?
A thousand years not yet been ordained.
Why so thou?

What you've done steals every won't undo thou?  Why thou?
Denied the language can I so didst  Why so

FAVES:  1) Deviod of mouthparts can drink dream.  2) Bespoils and bludgeons your life so didst.  3) Denied the language can I so.

Mine

Being creative is a curse
When you can't create, it gets worse
Spiraling mediocrity,
crap is crap and more's a pity.
Hang up your pen, and weep.

Gazulis's

Being creative is crap and more's a gets worse
Spiraling mediocrity,
crap up a curse
When you is pity.
Hang can't create, it your pen, and weep.

Crap up a curse when you is pity - bloody marvellous!

Before

Bus stop.
Head in pieces.
Been so damned cold lately.
Tracksuit mum calls her kid a cunt.
Charming.

Still drunk.
Eight till late night.
Left the club around two?
Vodka handbags stag do in drag.
Shooters.

Backwards.
To the Hog's Head.
Ken Dodd's dad's dog did what?
Such a bizarre conversation.
Drink less.

Perfume.
Too much perfume.
Pink tops just don't suit him.
She's not even wearing a thong.
Slapper.

Move on.
Time goes nowhere.
Mixing drinks does the trick.
First one always goes down easy.
Sober.

After

Bus damned cold thong.
Slapper.
Move on.
Time drag.
Shooters.

Backwards.
To the Hog's the stag dog did what?
Such suit him.
She's not even bizarre conversation.
Drink less.

Perfume.
Too much dad's perfume.
Pink always goes drinks does mum calls trick.
First one stop.
Head in pieces.

Been so goes till do in club around two?
Vodka handbags drunk.
Eight tops just don't the lately.
Tracksuit late a wearing a Head.
Ken Dodd's down easy.

Sober. night.
Left nowhere.
Mixing her kid a cunt.
Charming.
Still.

Can't help but laugh at the cut-up version - it portrays just what your brain gets like when you are shit-faced.

Thank you Jan

Mine
Why are you so enraged?
Don't you realise,
that what makes you angry,
is the life you idolise.

Cut
angry,
is you life the realise,
that Why you so enraged?
Don't idolise. what you are makes you

The last line is very effective!

for Jan

Uncut

Not me.
I couldn't have.
I loved you far too much.
Not that you didn't deserve it.
You did.
 
Out there.
For all to see.
Photos of you somehow
removed from their secret albumn
How so?

Not sure
that you can face
it, and how do I feel?
Sorry? I guess so. Life tends to
do this. 

There's you
grovelling now,
tearful, fearful, ashamed.
Perhaps, or not, who knows, but you?
Are you? 

It worked
Did you doubt it?
But I am unimpressed.
My attention was all yours - You
lost it.

Cut Up

 it.  I from their  Life but to
do this. or you now,
tearful, fearful, deserve it.
You Not of not,  see.
Photos I attention   Not  you so? worked
Did you doubt  you there
For all to didn't you?
Are you?  all couldn't secret somehow
removed me.
I tends guess feel?
Sorry? loved  who can face
it, ashamed.
Perhaps, knows, You
lost how do so. It much.
Not albumn
How it?
But unimpressed.
My yours that
There's you sure
that too I was am -
Out and far you
grovelling did.
have I.

'Did you doubt  you there' and
'loved  who can face it'. 
- say it all!