goarwywasyt Ahmed Rashid Thani writes a letter to Ahmed Rashid Thani: go on and read what you wrote and speak what you think ... Taking inspiration from Ahmed, goarwywasyt started as weekly gatherings of poetry readings and writing sessions over the winter of 2024/25. Writings, drawings, notes, minutes were collected into a publication, self-published in risography. During Hochschultage the studio unfolds into a spatial translation of goarwywasyt , staging diurnal activations on Saturday from 4pm till 6 descending into nocturnal activations from 6pm and again diurnal activations on Sunday from 2 till 4. The publication will be available throughout. Location Room 1.15.090 Am Speicher XI 8 28217 Bremen Hochschule für Künste Bremen | HfK Bremen Opening times Sa. 15.02.2025 11–20:00 Su. 16.02.2025 11–16:00 Diurnal Activations Sa. 16–18:00 / Su. 14–16:00 Nocturnal Activations Sa. from 18:00
With contributions by Ziyi Li Jany Maus Eghbal Joudi Carlotta Wirtl Noelle BuAbbud Ruomeng Huang Nastja Belousova Nico Dasenbrock Bubu Mosiashvili Moosy Al Zubaidi Marina Marcomini Moira Meine Fuentes Jashua Bustos Chumasero Natascha Sadr Haghighian
I wrote to her: Dec 3, 2024, 10:27 PM
You sent El cuerpo queriendo descansar You sent La revolución llamando a la vuelta de la esquina You sent La nieve es vidrio picado You sent Las noticias, bombas You sent Y el privilegio, una pulga que me chupa la sangre y me mata. “The body wanting to rest Revolution calling around the corner Snow is shattered glass The news, bombs And privilege, a flea that sucks my blood and kills me.”
10.12.24
Cruzaré estas épocas para llegar a tu sueño deforme. y los vientos me cruzaran para transformarse en fractales de poesía. seré un verso roto de la cordillera volando por las des-cos- tas del mar del norte. Besaré estas épocas para volver a ser roca. o de rokha o rayo violeta cruzando el desierto de Atacama. I will cross these epochs to reach your deformed dream. and the winds will cross me to become fractals of poetry. I will be a broken verse of the mountain range flying through the un-coasts of the North Sea. I will kiss these epochs to become rock again. or from rokha or violet ray crossing the Atacama desert.
12.12.24
(no) hemos hecho todo lo que pudimos ni hemos entregado nuestros poemas se me olvidó lavar las llaves, colgar la loza, prender la cama, soplar los pinceles. Se me olvidó la temporada la barricada las razones y los besos y todavía no nos pagan. we have (not) done all we could neither have we submitted our poems I forgot to wash the keys, hang up the dishes, turn on the bed, blow the pencils. I have forgotten the season the barricade the reasons and the kisses and we still haven’t been paid.
17.10.24 inheriting the struggle 17.10.24 don’t waste breath to curse the damned 1.11.24 nothing, after this. you will attempt to produce meaning but there is nothing, after this. 11.11.24 i keep writing lines arrested that lead nowhere for example “to be a body carrying another body” i dream of lines that speak into whole worlds somewhere for to go and awake disenchanted standing in; lines that lead nowhere 25.11.24 and as you sit here and congratulate on good taste intellect & culture, ask: have you made yourselves once again into mon- sters?
25.11.24 they are close so close an hour ago they say in 36 hours that they are close so close to last week and the week before a month ago and during the holy month which was last year close 8.12.24 Today is a day for the living.
fast $ituation
hurry--- on time
a n appointment—
a situation ---I offer my interest
there could also be time
to take
a small piece of fast, good stuff for myself, right?
-short notice /to a part of my brain/ that has an easily out-
witted spirit- even if, it doesn’t matter that much;
I’m already a little late anyway.
there are various interests, people circling around,
hovering slightly,
between and the around
an option an b e t t e r option
have you decided to drive in,
or just at the moment lower the car window? --No,
I made a decision while trying not to make one.
there is no word coming back to me. -- ! -- We.
00000000000000000000000!0!!!!!!!00000000000!!!!
it is a word --I can use when I’m sure.
when I’m sure, I’m not thinking, i think.
I‘m not thinking when I‘m writing
post correction
drive in for the appointment, ordering.
drive out.
drive in, ordering the appointment. drive OUT.
d r i v e in, o r d e r i n g—--drive OUT.
I’m not driving over.
so I have nothing to take away.
For what it is worth mentioning,
for whom it is important hearing,
When I tried to take a stone with me from a morning
walk,
I could not move it,
I could not touch it.
When I tried to talk to the stone from the morning walk,
it could be heard,
it could hear.
When I tried to take a stone with me from an evening
walk,
I could move it,
I could touch it.
When I tried to talk to the stone from the evening walk,
it could not be heard,
it could not hear.
Where are the stone now, you ask?
Everywhere...
Stones reply and leave.
While being part of something counts,
one needs a reason to bounce.
What used to be the source of hope,
now just looks like used rope.
What happens when my story gets interrupted,
and yours keeps going,
on and on,
like the sound waves from where I belong.
I left my room dressed up as a snail. Feel the rhythm of the valley, discover the speed of the river, slow down my participation. I step down on the conctere, step twice on the block of material First with my left foot and then with my right toes. In the same step, in the same quick thought. I drink water on an empty stomach To feel my organ, its a kind of a border. With the help of my elixir I’d call my dog a stomach, to take better care of us both. If you got a baby, puppy, what name would you give her? The name of funny nonchalance. A quest for self-awareness, a hero’s name, Grandmother’s savoir faire. Fossilization of the vital. Of Real life sensations. (with a big R) Reminiscences of love’s pleasures through a name from the past And mystery of adverbs.
Ever know what happened? Ever looked back? Ever wondered what if ...? All our dead are dear. We distract ourselves, and, then, troubled we die. Sooner or later the black yeast takes over your Carrara marble and your idealized bodies will disappear. And I know for a fact that you try to preserve it, hoping it will be like the swan song? Nothing ever has been beautiful about you so, why would the last song be?
It was throwing on the plate with a
Slow rush
They were away for a bit, when they
Were back
They still didn’t say anything about
This first singular moment only
This bird was singing
I was singing
Is your mouth opened
when you’re showing your tongue?
Please be soft
Don’t walk, don’t stand up, talk when it’s fit
Not today my baby
Don’t say that
GARTEN Para escribir los sonidos de mis recuerdos, Necesitaría silencio. Más bien un escenario vacío. Ahí guardo la memoria de mis deseos. Los olores que emanan de los recuerdos, son por el tacto de la luz del sol. Los protagonistas. To write the sounds of my memories, I would need silence. Or rather an empty stage. There I keep the memory of my desires. The smells that emanate from memories, Are from the touch of sunlight.
Irgendwann para responder escribir para no morir escribir para llevar la contra escribir para estar más cerca del sol escribir para llorar escribir para jugar escribir para tomar café escribir para recordar escribir para no olvidar escribir para caminar escribir para volver a saborear escribir para reinventar escribir para retroceder y observar escribir para escuchar escribir para alimentar escribir para cuestionar escribir para purgar escribir para soñar escribir para sonajear escribir para responder y preguntar de nuevo escribir para reir escribir para bailar escribir para melodiar escribir para aprender escribir para errar escribir para humanizar escribir para empatizar escribir para cantar escribir para extrañar escribir para viajar escribir para entender escribir para recuperar escribir para migrar escribir para imprimir escribir para declarar escribir para saltar escribir para honrar escribir para amar.
the mud gave us form from the bottom of the waters came our matter But we won’t forget: we are only borrowers. One day we must return to her for she wants back what is hers. we did not come from the rib of a man but the hands of a woman
I remember when I was a little girl, my grandmother used to take me to Seu Antônio. The children would sit in the little chairs lined up, waiting for their turn. To this day I remember the smell of that little house. Seu Antônio would call us when it was time. I would sit in the chair opposite the old man’s And with his warm hands, already wrinkled from age he would bless take away evil open paths and protect. Long live Seu Antônio and the elders who devote their lives protecting and blessing. Long live the guardians, healers and benzedeiros who protect the children. May they all be guarded and safe.
Our culture is a crossroads culture. It’s alive It is movement Uncertainty Indecency Malandragem Dribbling Cheating Intelligence Astúcia The joy that goes out on the street and ends in sweat. Sweat it all out, A purging ritual and for a moment feel on the skin what freedom is. Freedom, which we only learn by reading in the dictionary. But the street, the sacred street in its great profanity is the temple of freedom. Where the transition between worlds becomes reality. The crossroads, a encruzilhada.
Ohne zu vergessen Ohne zu vergessen wenn sie gehen Nach Hause zurück Zurück in die Zukunft Familien Vereint ohne führer Selber gewählter Weg Dahin wo es wächst Doch Ohne zu vergessen wenn sie gehen Die taten Die Hilfe Die Geschichten Ihre Gesichter Meiner Freunde Ohne zu vergessen wenn sie zurückkehren nachhause um die Flucht zur Reise zu machen Das leben zu leben Um wieder zu leben Nicht zu fliehen Uns hier bleibt uns Was wir gelernt und vergessen werden Woraus wir lernen hätten können Wodurch du und ich etwas verstanden haben Das das hier Das wir Privilegiert sind Und noch viel zu lernen haben Was wir hätten alles lernen können Ohne zu vergessen wenn sie gehen
To write poetry in a hurry and make trees go all blurry somewhere inbetween I will have something to bury. And if the night decides to be long I might even compose her a song who knows, maybe even two and have life between ping and pong. Just like destruction of nature one death leads me to paper and in a tender confession I write: names and numbers of minors and majors. So if evil is lazy you call me crazy soil will remember the scent of a daisy.
Nov. 30 Ich wollte ein Gedicht schreiben. Ich wollte ein Gedicht schreiben, aber meine Worte stecken. Heute gibt es keine Zeit. Keine Zeit zu dekorieren, Keine Zeit für klingende Worte, für verblümten Quatsch. Heute gibt es keine Zeit für Kaffee und Kuchen. Keine Zeit, geduldig zu sein, Deine ÄÄHs zu schlucken, Keine Zeit, die großen Kartoffelstücke zu kauen. Keine Zeit zu hören, Keine Zeit zu schweigen. Mir tut was weh. Eure Vergessen tut weh. Wenn ihr mir die Worte versteckt, was ich sehe, was ich fühle, was ich denke. Mir tut eure Vergessen weh. Mir tut im Knie eure Euros weh, Im Nacken eure Algorithmen, Im Kopf eure „Zukunft“. Also Mir tut weh, wenn ihr schweigt, wenn ihr klagt, wenn ihr auch gar nichts sagt. Aber eure Vergessen, das tut mir nicht nur weh. Mir tut auch leid.
Weiße Schweine Will unser bleicher Meister die Sonne der Welt aussähen, zerknüllen, und sich einsetzen, gelb verdickte Krallen, um sie ergreifen zu dürfen? Braucht unser bleicher Meister so viel Untertan-Material, die ihm bedienstet Hühnerherzen und Affenhirne servieren, seine Augen mit Schmeichel umsorgen, seine endlose Zunge füttern mit Überfluss und Dekadenz? Wird unser bleicher Meister schwer atmen, bis seine Speiseröhre verstopft sein Mund schaumüberquellend sein Magen zur Detonation und sein Fleisch in sich eingesunken ist? Natürlich! nicht wie sondern wieviel.
Die Reichen Sitzen außen in ihrer Habe mumifiziert in den Säften der Jugend - ausgesaugt - badend. Leben unendlich aus ihrem Erbe verleugnen die Natur, die stiehlt jeder ist arm, jeder Knochen ist ausgeliehn. Jede Ressource ist begrenzt jedes Bedürfnis ist ewig eher verschlingt man die Welt mit sich, als dass dein Nachbar mehr besitzt.
Material Vernunft verdirbt, sind ein jämmerlich Atom-Gestrick Begrenztes Ich halten Meere aus Galle zurück. Die Welt zerfleischt in Ölpest getauft Gamma-Strahlen um dein Augensaum, Speichelbiss, Geißelstich quillt heraus ein warmer Schaum. Eingesessene Schöße Aschetod, versunkene Felder ohne Duft blüht nicht, wie es euch beliebt unsre Lungen verschlungen den Rest der Luft
Heidenlandschaf Ich sehe: wie feuchte, rosa-weiße Blüten, ausatmen und sich strecken und zu einem fließenden Liegebett werden, auf dem Bäume und Sträucher wie türmende Inseln schwimmen und Hügel sich umarmen und Licht scheint durch die pfählernen Bäume wie ein Pfeil. Sonne birgt einen fruchtbaren Schaum Feigenbäume spucken ihre Nachkommen Kindern süß in den Mund, saufen trocken gespinstigen Saft geflechtet aus dem Licht alter Sterne und dem Wirbel zwischen Werden und Fallen. Man wartet auf jemanden, der einen einspeist im irdischen Bauch, wie Maulwürfe die zwischen Stein und Knochen hausen, bis an die Wurzel des Seins geleitet verschlungen.
Unterbewusst Unter meiner Haut ein Teich der plätschert mein Seelenrand bläht sich auf erquillt bis ans Meeresbett an die Strände junger Tage wo Kinder spielen wo Mütter zu ihren Töchtern werden. Ein einziger Fisch schwamm darin, war Rot gegen das grüne Wasser, auf und ab als kämpfe er gegen den Teich sein Körper.
tagh, tagh, tagh a person enters the room(looking around), not saying a word a week later, moments in between asked the room who those two were. how come they left? did you try to convince them to stay a bit longer? the room stayed still and left the room
he walked until his feet bled as I was whispering in his left ear of his moldy fears I did recognize my voice no more since I speak in a foreign language tell me all your minor words dull, little, worthless words in a language, we both know tell all big words in a language, no one knows
Whispers in plantations No No No No Like or unlike Staying true Staying solitary What is the color of May sunset? No anger; No disappointment; No One But what else? Paper. A Wall. Floor. An advertisement banner. In-be- tween. Left alone. Many left alone. Words left alone. Words left me alone. I left the words alone. The words do not go there. Little they knew i speak land- scapes mountains rivers but also, tap water(s) Trouble and care Work and love Run and gain Book and hate Fate and food Flood and mystery Mr. Me and rain Pain and bread Dead and here There and End.
Plenum (forms / that / can / host / complexity) Complexión: “relación de los sistemas orgánicos de cada individuo” (for / forms /disform / discomfort) Lacuna, vacía, un lienzo, tu cama, tu esquina, tu cuna, la mía? How can I live like this? Mañana: 8:30 Yoga 9 ducha 9:30 collage para objekt werden objekt sein 10 desayuno con Elena 11 Lago 14Circa 19terapia 21 spülmaschine abholen
A little poem for our group Like Water We come from everywhere. In liquid form, We take the shape of this shared space. As vapor, We rise and gather, clinging to dust, Becoming raindrops of connection. And when the time comes, We scatter, Flying to distant horizons, Each carrying a part of this moment within.
Para comenzar Start with your fingers, move them and send signals to your whole body. You will see your bed move You’ll see your day begin. Open your eyes slowly enjoy the light passing by Try to wake up with your ears listen to the silent glow of this winter. Do you still recognise your room? Do you still recognise your body? To cry or having an orgasm is the best warm up to start your day, your dance or your life. Start with your fingers,
Generosidad nov.2024 Blando color piel que bueno poder nombrArte o aunque sea, imaginArte. “Soft skin-color how good it is to name you or at least imagine you.”
I am not mad because you make me look like a tourist, or because our conversations are so easy, or because you never play with language, or because we barely drink water together, or because you reach for cigarettes so silently. No, I am not mad because of all these reasons. I am mad because you have a calendar hanging in your office.
SACHEN MACHEN MACHEN SACHEN Ihr habt meine Hände, aber nicht meine Finger. Ihr wisst nicht, was ich mache, was ich machen kann. was ich Sachen machen, was ich machen Sachen. Ich spiele Ich singe Von der Weser zur Nordsee. Ich will sagen. Ich will spielen. Ich will Sachen machen, Ich will machen Sachen. Ich mache Sachen.
collective residue here to stay we have knotted ourselves into your fences our feathers ruffled our clothes torn here to stay disbanding your ignorance and dancing on and in and within its ruins its faultlessness its impeccable morals we have knotted ourselves into and out of holding on to life holding still with and without
commerce raider attacking my wellbeing looting all sense to turn it into vegan merchandice all kids brainwashed uni’qlod in ever new shades damn lucky catching the big fish no effort surfing on all that was stolen before die hohe treppe die hohe treppe der aufzug für 6 personen die türflügel wie ein kapitel unten junges geflügel mit knöpfen lungernd in den kellergärten der reichen alle twists sind schon formuliert und schnell mit frischer performance und schlichter anwesenheit gefüllt kaffee mit zahlencombis während ramadan auch gern abends gegenüber die cousins
goarwywaswyt Published and edited by Any Jackson Chaturanga Text and images by Ziyi Li, Jany Maus, Eghbal Joudi, Carlotta Wirtl, Noelle BuAbbud, Ruomeng Huang, Nastia Belousova, Nico Dasenbrock, Bubu Mosiashvili, Moosy Al Zubaidi, Marina Marcomini, Moira Meine Fuentes, Jashua Bustos Chumasero, Natascha Sad Haghighian. Printing Druckpool,Silkscreen workshop of HfK Bremen Paper Fabriano 1264 Sketch 90gsm Clairefontaine Drawing Grained Paper 125gsm Font Sentient by Type Foundry Fonts First Edition 100 copies January 2025, Bremen Special thanks to Greta Lüdemann, Zane Zlemesa. This publication has been made possible thanks to support provided by the Publication Fund of the University of the Arts Bremen, Germany.
