Issue 003 · November 2012 Cover by Lexi Roberts


In November, Clearly Stated got real.

Moving from just a couple friends messing around to some serious writers messing around, it was a major step forward for the fledgling wordgame.

Her parents were proud. It was time for Clearly Stated to make a name for herself.

She got a neck tattoo.

Once I Met A Poem

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 8, 2012
Arranged by Lexi Roberts on November 11, 2012

"Once i met a poem in line and hunting for meaning,


tag: [GED] [fully] and [clearly]

(firsts only listed)


"and wild? just 'bear'ly"

tags: [shaken] [lose] and [lost]

*at feed time somehow: a not so grand design included without reading Rines*


one: roof was slanted enough to 'bear' the wait so...

to: *gather* we pulled a throw and we met a poem

[write here]

Willingly Adverbs

Written by Trixie LoMein on November 9, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 10, 2012

Willingly: "Adverbs"
Verbally: "Haha"

I wish words had thoughts of their own. I would listen and think.
In those words, that they thought, but I think, that those thoughts, would be, mine.


Not really theirs, but I guess, there's no way to know, what, words think.
Unless you were a word... which you are but not.

In the sense that I mean then you'd just be.

A thought: "Which you are?"
In somebody's mind: "But..."

Not mine because I've touched you. And know that you're physically real, and more than just a word, or a name, or a type of noun, but...

Maybe I'm just making all that up so that you seem like more but you are.

Really: "Just a word, that might someday..."

Mean nothing to me.

I'd Like To Try To Visually Re

Written by Jayinee Basu on October 27, 2012
Arranged by Lexi Roberts on November 11, 2012

Id like to try to visually re:

Present the maturation of a person whose development in the mirror stage is:

  • somehow interrupted or supplemented so she sees her own face or doubles everywhere and
  • develops some manner of universal empathy but also universal aggression

"I want the piece to un f o l d

chronologically, being like

a transcript of

her mental activity."

thats why I thought the first part (the pre I stage) should be sort of like a concrete poem:

"before the mirror's tage

 the world of the Imaginary is made up

of image.


to translate

the imaginary into the symbolic

act of writing

concrete poetry."

*does this in the same way*

drawing does but lim(it (s))

It (s):

  • palette to understandable symbols and words
  • slowly these symbols will make up the form of the I


"I would,

 like the actual object of

the artists book

itself at the end,

 to represent the I by filling it"


With records of images and thoughts (some thoughts being hyper, clear, and some fading

i n a n d o u t in the way memory tends to like the hippocampus itself functions) I want to use a





typewriter to achieve transparent text


*later in the story the character will be married to the uncanny by falling in love*


with a person with epilepsy so far I really feel like Ive bitten off more than I can chew....

I Cracked

Written by Chris Barker on October 27, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 11, 2012

I cracked a smile as the last inches of her body hit the ground barely. Able to contain the laughter, I knew was boiling under the surface. The bowl of soup she previously held was. Already shattered and spread far across, the floor ahead of her beckoning some other poor figure. To share her hilarious predicament, I couldn't contain myself anymore, and the laughter. Poured forth like water from an old broken dam - her tears only mildly - inducing feelings (of guilt, I knew she wasn't hurt) too badly and hoped.

When she came to her senses she would be, laughing too which she did. Once the sting of hitting concrete. At some, miles an hour wore off once I felt spent. Of laughter, I helped her up, cleaned. The gelatinous soup, from the floor and sat back, down in our booth. Patiently waiting for a replacement, entree since after all it. Had been, that inept waitres's "S Fault" in the first Pl., Ace.

Right Now

Written by Jayinee Basu on December 15, 2006
Arranged by James R. Color on November 11, 2012

Right now: 

I'm sitting here staring at the walls that

As you might know is a fragm-

ent but I don't C A R E the. laws of gramma

r do not apply to ME :

right now, really when do the laws, of, grammar.


"When they can communicate, W H A T is communication?

"But to send semiotic signals from one brain to another, how?"

"Can I know that you are not misunderstanding?"


"I am trying to say" :

I can't I just have to have faith that our brains will communicate

similar signals to each other

for this I thank education here is a formal

thank you,  thank you,

education I owe you a lot

I owe you because you


my mind

into :

  • some
  • thing


something recognizable:

something: "Unlike the minds of others, who have not the same education as I!"

"Have the vast ocean crashes on the shore crash foam?"

Smooth ride, wave, an ocean.

Of knowledge: "From an institution which degrades other institutions?"

"Like communism and even RE:LIGION, it goes against all my formal knowledge: to trust education as much as I do."

"But it's something that I have been taught for all my life! And, well, it works as well as can be expected!"

"N u n s.  Thats who taught me nuns !! They carried wooden rulers and smacked them down on the bones of my wrist and my knucklesI was only six years old!"

What gives people the cruelty to do these kinds of things?

The want:

  • to make the world a better place
  • young children
  • being
  • jaded

With the slap of a ruler:

  1. disillusionment
  2. is
  3. the
  4. cruelest
  5. form
  6. of
  7. reality

I don't condone:

the knowledge of santa or god or anything

but for GODS sake don't tell them it's not real. let the children

figure out.

for themselves: "If anything children aren't stupid, it's U N FAIR! To assume that a group of people are stupid< and form a fairly tale for their demographic." based on that assumption:

no one is really stupid.

everyone knows what they want.

like right now: I want

some water.

You Just

Written by Lexi Roberts on November 11, 2012
Arranged by Chase Kersey on November 11, 2012



do(nt) understand

you just dont understand

you just dont understand

the(s)e 'daisy chains'


re: wrapping around our lungs


nd: these vines are cutting off our circulation


ut: we can still breathe

its funny!


every metaphorical wish turned out (to be true)!

and every reality became (false)

its just......


hysterical and


s: we spiral into this hysteria together

kiss me for i am in need!

OF: a fresh breath and youve always wanted


to suck the life out of you?

perhaps thats the meaning of this?

metaphorical reality.


succession of breathing

AND sucking

Until the straws crack.


nd we have no kaleidoscopes.

left to breathe.

into my kaleidoscope is dripping blood you say.

this is paint?

i dont understand i swear.

its blood you must have given me.

too much air my lungs


re: about to burst take that!

(back before i become a kaleidoscope too  )

Create Exposure

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on June 6, 2012
Arranged by Austin Islam on November 17, 2012

"create  e x p o  sure therapy the b attleprofession"
"al photo gr a p h y self portraits eries screenshot"
"s of po rtraits online fram ed tim e s y outube gri"
"d clearlystated  c r e a t e   consume twopiece vid"
"eo proj ec ti on or  four  piece w ith whiteonwalls"
"ideas tast eful nude s ase ries of blac kan d w hit"
"e nude s wi th a can  o  f  food somewhere in the p"
"i ct ur e go  outside buy m   e lunc h my award win"

"n ing  photoshop actions video series ofa b o u t t"
"o turn o ff vi deos billboard slides ofb ill boards"
"making up billboard  size print i t 's o k dealingw"
"ith pers onal racism collect ed to do list pr oject"
"please g o  d bullet in bo a rd  coveredwithbusines"
"s  cards wh owe ars  th e pants  aro  und here epic"
"naps  fog  ma ch ine in totally normals pace s like"
"a cafeter ia li ne hot pants pa nts di pped in hots"
"auce smell  ba sed  installation can 't placethe fa"
"ce hair over fa  ces onfil m p ortraitskn ees are w"
"eir d  y  al e  twoth ousandandten photo ideas o ut"

"of  placesome  one  hang ing up   si de do wn on so"
"me  street  can t see what han  ging from lo oks li"
"k e standin   g  upside down i' m t hinking keirnan"

"swamp  ma n ma  n i n  b usinesss uit in mu ck in s"
"wamp   less than kn eedee p  pre ferably c lean cut"
" e urasi  an briefc as e david twelv epeople normal"
"locations p osed as  davi dbehi nd the sc e n eside"
"a man in shir tpink e xa mines tit leof l arge prin"
"t of she ep  pink   while cow i nvideo pink se emin"
"g ly look son  still fromv ideo doc  u mentation of"
" in  st  a  l   l   a    t  i  o  n                "

Stonehenge Wasn't

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on October 27, 2012
Arranged by Chris Barker on October 27, 2012

Stonehenge wasn't the destination!
Castles and barrels of toxic waste,
there's just no classicism in garbage! (she says).

Garbage is just things left.

But these barrels are vintage,
and who is going to pick this castle up anyway?
It's just going to goddamn rot, it is!

So, Stonehenge was where they put those stones up.

But before there were curbs,
and without a listing of primo curbside pickups,
no one knew, and they just sat around,
with no one to pick the garbage up.

If they knew, they would have taken them
made some tables
and brought them to the others at the warehouse
only to be kicked to the curb,

Too much trash here! (they said).
Everyone brings trash thinking we need it,
just because we live in a warehouse!

this isn't your dumping ground.

Take your castles elsewhere.

Breaking Limbs And Things

Written by Chase Kersey on November 8, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 8, 2012


  • Limbs and things.
  • Auras.
  • We.


"E." been separated in a way that is unholy.

Ghost snap me into four pieces. Of what?
I used to be anything other than ordinary.


"M." groaning in a language the Indians once spoke.


Am falling through the trees in a backwards orientation.
From what I've seen before, you are the most spectacular spectacle.


"E." ever observed?


Case study in bloody romantics from the southern tip of India.
My god, I'm bleeding and there is nothing I could ever want.

To Do:

Stop it.

Zero Set Monitor

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 5, 2012
Arranged by Chase Kersey on November 8, 2012

zero set monitor to 'never' go off,

one 'opening' scene: red curtain; flannel 'shirt'

t(w)o explain it black and white,

news flannel, shirt th(ree so th)is is,

the future matrix sun(glasses).

head(set), glitch, shirt

four (two) thousand,

nine hundred hawaiian shirt

five it's (somehow) 'floating'

head, no shirt, 'lights' off,

six, it's funny (green trash)

(s)even done


I Start

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 8, 2012
Arranged by Chris Barker on November 8, 2012

I start in the-the-
"the world"
but, in a just-
wrong...too shiny.

Corporate school suits,
and too many card checks,
more checks,
too many checks and no shadows,
but all darkness (and after dark).

When the classes are over,
when I have to go back
for the glasses I left on the desk,
when I ran away from a
"bad class,"
I cried.
And i tried to speak,
but i've never been good at speak,
and the other children know!!

I'm a bad thing without hair,
but my teeth keep falling out,
and they look, like, deep fried.
One is stuck and the others come out-
and then I get in trouble for a bad scan,
and they say,
"you were weird!"
"you were weird and gross,
but you are not even human!"
and they call me a thing I will never understand,
but I know is a terrible thing.

and have to start running away-
and fall through wall and hole,
and wake up-
in another land,
in the land casting long shadows.

I see an axe,
and I think,
"an old familiar friend!"
and it scares me.
I pick it up,
but then the things are there-
and I look down and I am a
(I think),
and they are not thinking,
but I think.

I feel my gums and the teeth are not there.
No holes, just not there.
I was born with no teeth,
but-my familiar friend-
something is jammed!

The tooth that would not come out,
it is a rusty thing, a "bolt"
(a metal bolt- a key?).

I remember only the fear.

I put the key back in my hole.
I am naked, I am not hungry,
but I am.

Scare all the things I see,
one a lifeless thing-
it knows I move, and it is hungry,
but only hungry.

It is a world where it happened,
and by some terrible, I was born after.
Had a brain.
Others were born after,
but are terrible things!

I have to put everyone to rest.
I have to chop all the necks.
I know, deep inside,
there are even bigger terrible things-
and I am just a naked baby,
with too big a head,
in a field of scattered blades
and the odd,
grasping mouth.

I have nothing-
no organs,
but sticky big hands and sinewy muscle-
nothing to make new me,
no desire to consume.

My mouth-
just a vestige, and I surprise myself
with a sad moan
and the nearest mouth bites out
towards me.

Appendages too weak.
To drag itself closer, I end it at the neck-
that's my grim task.

How did I get to the other world?
Was it all a fantasy of my insane, tired?
Is there another me,
in a place where things are still alive?
Is there a way back?

Or, how to wake both worlds
from this terrible dream-
epic, dark adventure?
stealth and action?
places to hide?

Because roving groups still exist.
But also,
little "safe" places I have built,
over the millennia,
but why have I lost my know-
have I so many times?

I chop a few dangling necks
on the way to the next house,
startled by figures in it.

But they are chopped,
and it is mine.
I call me "Plato" in my scribblings on the shed,
like safe structures,
all with holes in the upper walls,
so I can crawl up to the roof
when the packs come-
when they stick their hands under
the badly constructed walls,
to look for me.

Hands, then heads-
they always come like that.
They can't learn from the others.
They stick the heads,
and then I chop, old friend.

I think I call me "Plato."

LOL The God

Written by Austin Kieler on November 9, 2012
Arranged by Austin Islam on November 11, 2012

[%%]'lol the god'
[%%]  is not nice to me
[%%]    (chair and fiction)

[%%]    so go to hell !!!
[%%]  when is friday,
[%%]six is six is

[%%]six cows are fun
[%%]  and jesus is nice..
[%%]    saturday, i used to love you mr.

[%%]    burn vote for obama—
[%%]  i'd love to—
[%%]arrange some text too

You're Going To Sleep

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 7, 2012
Arranged by Trixie LoMein on November 8, 2012

you're going to sleep.
but i was going to stay up and work
and when i stay up and work
you don't sleep well.
so you should..
stay up!
so i don't have to feel bad
about keeping you up–
or something.

well, maybe you..
want me to kiss you
on the back?
or the shoulder?
but if you want me to stay forever?
i can't in the bed.

but i can take you with me!
strap you to my back
and sway you
gently to sleep
as i bob
and weave
over the keyboard

Can We Oscillate

Written by Lexi Roberts on November 11, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 11, 2012

Can we - o s c i l l a t e {

until i find my s el f going ba ck

and forth and

b ac k

and ba ck

and forward and b ack }

inside to the things i used to know / underneath this head there is no shadow
| split mind | split strands of | split

Consciousness - i spend three days looking for shelter.

Among the shadows of my ceiling fan, it swept b ac k

and forth along my spine, these dreams were never mean,

T-to han / dle sha / dow / s

and they fade and appear like monsters and i scream out a question of accord,

"why do shadows make me feel?"

s o a l o n e a n d t h e


bobs b ac k
and forth

in reply like the ceiling fans and shadows and
o s c i l l a t i o n s and strands of
c o n s c i o u s n e s s inside my mind