Wednesday, October 26, 2011

what i want part 2

to be free to be free to be free

Nothing is new

 how i long to escape somehow
   the sum of my destinies
     I am looking
       for the slipknot
        to come

the chain

I suppose there are two analogies for
the chain passing through the hand
the flush
and the entanglement

I can feel the tension
in my life
stronger these days
          less disguised

I can remember when girls listened to me
it was ages ago

now days the pubs are too loud

I am the official sponsor
          of the 2010 World fucup

I - I - I - I

Thursday, October 13, 2011

so so soho

so miserable so
nothing whenever whatever
money trickling away
the senior generation
can't help us

a spark of creation
a balloon -

left unattended
broken messed
sprawl on the ground
lank naked armies
eating each other

all over the argument

Benzedrine drawl
how i long for opiate of death
- life!

the pain of orgasm
unbearable, unescapable

this is life
in an affluent nation

the big shbang

lonely hearts
don't know themselves

is it possible
to destroy a soul?

maybe temporarily
nothing is forever

the big flux
is my bedtime friend

as if there was a beginning
as if there was an end

show me something beginning
that is not somehow the end
of another thing

show me the evidence
for your beautiful theory
of endings and beginnings!

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


when we write
we ask the world
for an answer
and then go back to discover what we wrote

we have been born
from a moist land
into a drought

the frogs are still our
best friends

singing all night
    of the rain


we all get to taste the tempest
it sometimes comes
a the end of the meal
sometimes at the beginning
or occasionally with salad

it starts as a tingle on the lips
spicy, sour, that is just the sauce
the meat comes with a full bite
wash it down with a nice ale

the second bite has a stench
of rotting flesh or carrion
and goblets of offal in heavy dough
succulent creamy fat glaze
suits a gewurztraminer

next suck on the bones of your mother
or gnaw the teeth of a pet dog
tounge kiss your dead sister
and gobble down the goulies of your father
with a Tuscan rosé

now pierce the skin just below the belly button
insert a fork and spoon
and just loop it up for a quick entrail desert
it is the tradition in this country
to finish with the shiraz

last time

last time i was here
you tickled me under the chin
with a feather you said it was
the most perfect pleasure
as it was the closest
to feeling nothing at all

now i am numb
but the pain comes in waves
like i am bathing in pure silver
and you are a ghost

there your heart is
ephemeral, mine
placenta like
thrown away or fed to birds
the going is the coming undoing
the gateway to love hangs open
on a rusty hinge

they say you went away
to pot plants to save your pennies
an experiment with time
that went horribly wrong
now all i hear is the news of your face
bleating the same anthem as yesterday
a voice crying to be ignored
mid the songs of war and death

an argument of mine
came to visit
i made tea
we were friends for an hour
then we went our separate ways

Sunday, October 2, 2011

not in a good poetry frame of mind

i'm afraid
though i am trying
i've lost too much time
i don't know where i put it now

perhaps it
is stapled to a cow
or embalmed in leather
in a distant egyptian pyramidal tomb

or did i
give it to you back
then when we had nice times
you'll have to remind me i forget

it was nice
i had to forget
and to remember again
i would have to be a grave robber


when the fog lifted
the aircraft men saw
that a terrible accident
had taken place

two jet liners
skiied accross the runway
and just touched
nose to nose
almost imperceptable
to the eye

a spark jumped between
and set fire
to the cockpit
so that all the inhabitants
burnt to death in an

the firemen at the time
were munching lunch
there were no sounds heard but
soap dispensers in the bathroom
and a meowing cat

there was no smell
but that of melted cheese
in the kitchenette

parking machine

holding the ticket in my hand
about to feed it into the machine
a wind suddenly appeared
and it flew away up high
like a concord

i was trapped in the carpark
walking among the vehicles
i idly let my key slice away
at a few years of dirt and paint
eloquently delinquent

when after a few years i found
a trapdoor between the oil stains
i opened it up with my bare hands
and found a metal ladder leading down
into a dank and fumiferous place

i heard drips below and my
hands were cold on the greasy rungs
as i descended below into the bowels
of the car park. distant machinery
noises were my only friends

when finally i reached the floor
covered with rainbows in puddles
and mankness i remembered that breeze
that had whipped the ticket from my hand
it was the sound of our laughter

4yo wisdom

in my head
i am still

and insecure

burning with
anger and

my son
aged four
picks me up on this

he says
'it's alright daddy
i know

you didn't
mean to hurt