Any work of art that can be understood is the product of journalism.
quote by Tristan Tzara
Added by Lucian Velea
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The rest, called literature, is a dossier of human imbecility for the guidance of future professors.
quote by Tristan Tzara
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dadaism is a characteristic symptom of the disordered modern world. It was first inspired by the chaos and collapse of Europe during the war.
Tristan Tzara in Vanity Fair, Some Memoirs of Dadaism (July 1922)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Art has not the celestial and universal value that people like to attribute to it. Life is far more interesting... Dada introduces it into daily life. And vice versa.
quote by Tristan Tzara
Added by Dan Costinaş
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If I shout: Ideal, Ideal, Ideal; Knowledge, Knowledge, Knowledge; Boomboom, Boomboom, Boomboom; I have recorded fairly accurately Progress, Law, Morals, and all the other magnificent qualities that various very intelligent people have discussed in so many books.
Tristan Tzara in The Dada Almanac (1920)
Added by Simona Enache
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Cinema Calendar Of The Abstract Heart - 09
the fibres give in to your starry warmth
a lamp is called green and sees
carefully stepping into a season of fever
the wind has swept the rivers' magic
and i've perforated the nerve
by the clear frozen lake
has snapped the sabre
but the dance round terrace tables
shuts in the shock of the marble shudder
new sober
poem by Tristan Tzara
Added by Poetry Lover
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To Make A Dadist Poem
Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag.
Shake gently.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The poem will resemble you.
And there you are--an infinitely original author of charming sensibility, even though unappreciated by the vulgar herd.
poem by Tristan Tzara
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Vegetable Swallow
two smiles meet towards
the child-wheel of my zeal
the bloody baggage of creatures
made flesh in physical legends-lives
the nimble stags storms cloud over
rain falls under the scissors of
the dark hairdresser-furiously
swimming under the clashing arpeggios
in the machine's sap grass
grows around with sharp eyes
here the share of our caresses
dead and departed with the waves
gives itself up to the judgment of time
parted by the meridian of hairs
non strikes in our hands
the spices of human pleasures
poem by Tristan Tzara
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The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three
where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies
my son
my son
let us always shuffle through the colour of the world
which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy
we are too thin
we have no mouth
our legs are stiff and knock together
our faces are formeless like the stars
crystal points without strength burned basilica
mad : the zigzags crack
telephone
bite the rigging liquefy
the arc
climb
astral
memory
towards the north through its double fruit
like raw flesh
hunger fire blood
poem by Tristan Tzara
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