Thursday, 23 December 2010

L

ceehillllmty
aaceeehiiijllllllmmmtwy
c
e
eh
i
ll
ll
mt
y

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Christmas Poem

santa slaps his dick,
now its red at the end,
he puts a reign on it,
chasing children
he claims its magic,
he claims Rudolph doesn't bite,
he force-feeds it carrots,
then sleeps.

c

Saturday, 4 December 2010

n

you fucking bastard de
humidifier cunting de humid
ify my life (strife - moving forward (
create a foreword to
your favorite book) look, picture hook)
fucking slut
slitty slut slats
of a flat pack furni
ture, mature whore lookin doore.

n

cheese board i'm bored
red wine on the tv
come run d m c me
urban hip hop
not the top
of my i
pod
i
pood
all over inventions
of black 21st centuary
britain
europe
corner of this
dusty old uni
verse, terse, how old
is the word
of the bird
who first cawed upon
the branch
and now stands
insignificant
insignificant as
the rest,
all,
all of it;
useless fucking dirt clogging
the useless fucking pores
of this great sweating hunk
of meat that we play in to,
anal butt plugs of
an anal butt plug,
slowly expanding to
a thin white line.

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

Monday, 15 November 2010

slow growing trees
make better
furniture (furnish my mind
with various viewpoints)
one hundred thousand
light bulbs
one hundred thousand
tele scopes
(one pointing to the
stars, the other
imitating)
dust riding
on a spider back
(sitting too long
by the window
sill).

Friday, 12 November 2010

L

oh what a glorious scent!
ponder
search and
scratch in the mire,
only to be lifted high by the
tip of thy nose to
the immense beauty
of that smell.
yet the face never did
turn
and sliding back down
full of bristling
whiskers and
marks of question...
yet, bathing in the knowledge
of un-
knowledge
and dreaming of summer

Saturday, 6 November 2010

pale ale
set sail
from calif
ornia,
u s of
a. and now
it sails
my elvis
pressley gut.
my pelvis
lesley strut
(and the pretty
girls die in
the cold
cold
ground)

n

fuck you the old slur returns
you fucking cunt screams the
poem mac books on the tv
cunt beer in the gut
cunt beer rotting the gut
vonne(gut) and all his alien friends
hacking another, punching in the notes
to the melody made up of 1's and 0's
a poem he said, a poem i said
i wish rickets upon you, i said
and we all danced
an insane dance
and rolled our heads
down our sleeves
and down our legs
and laughed like fuck
somewhere back there
in third or fourth year.

Friday, 5 November 2010

L

a lovely wee sand box of insanity
now please raise your glasses and
bottles of granny's tears for another slice
of sincerity.
cheers for that one love. wait,
the sirens are on again so stand
up and
take a bow as wet patches your seat mean
the cat has pissed its self closer
to becoming a nice little hat and
a wee snack but a bucket load of fun.
all this stuff just goes to distractions from
the drive yet a flawed land is not ugly on a journey
of no expectations, only really for the sake of
curiosity - thanks again flower - ordered,
packed and recorded then let off the leash.

Friday, 29 October 2010

L

to do nothing other than lye,
smoke pot and
succumb to Chopin.
soft, beautiful and wondrous

a meeting was
organized but i was not
organized for the meeting.
said my bit
and left it at that.
street lights fly past
staring at me, into me.

i gaze at the city.
it glitters and moves
but not too much,
not too much to be seen by
the lot.
i gaze and it gazes back

unsure, what time?
could it bring, two seen
and gone. adventures in capitals
drugs taken and possessions gained
and lost if,
you want to see it that way.

Chopin.
there is nothing more
hurtful
than realising you
know nothing.

and, that you realise
that.

the manifesto was a pulse,
just like
Chopin,
in the dances
of smoke,
across my face

Wednesday, 27 October 2010

n

assisted dying of the year
bread bin bus hurtling
along at £7.20 / hour
'the best country to die
in' a radio screams at
cauliflour heads
attached to hearing
aids
positive
enclosed loop system
another pothole
(minds wallowing in a pot
filled hole - all the heads
wishing this)
staring at the burning bank notes
and the radio
and the cauliflour heads
and the hearing aids,
trying to find it interesting
and hoping this cuntry
will still be great to die
in when my time
comes around.

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

L

well then,
i... don't really know what to say.
i, guess so...?

Thursday, 14 October 2010

n

Some people take jobs to write poems, others just need the money

Aaaaah come see me now,
im with the morning now,
come try buy cigarillo's and papiers
from ME!
Jobless he
of yesteryear who
came to see(k)
jobs at the
job centre (cess pit).
(that was the past, I commence
to present
you with the
present).
Now marvel at the beast
who thumbs buttons
on a till
at 5am,
half insane with
fatigue,
eyes burning a
bright green
of royal
mint.

Monday, 11 October 2010

n

and my book shelf smiles at me
rows upon rows
upon rows of shiny teeth texts.
all the classics, an accomplished reader (impression)
topped with cd's (vinyl below).
man, that's a lot of stuff (what's it mean?)
and out there on the empty crisp packet streets
a little mouse enters
a hole
in the ground
and nibbles some cheese.

autumn cunt (n(ational geographic))

autumn trees burning out there,
burning as the birds
pull the skirts
over their heads
and bed down for a winter
fuckfest.
witness the seasons, motherfucker!
see them sculpt the earth
and the minds of her children - casino drunk and
sweating shopping lists
(falling asleep in buckets of piss)
then consider the dust
and its indifference
to it all.
funny-ha-ha
taps on the table
(trees of leaves still on fire)
painting said taps
as a finger
in the face (of said autumn)
- and not quite knowing how, but
spitting poems (still) around the charred
remains of the poet tree.
neil young and his noise,
the soundtrack to it all.

n (a newspaper poem)

Read This First
new sins of Britons (home, car, personal etc) will kill classes
could curse their best results and
miss the world's greatest ocean liners.
I'd like to tax Leadership knife crime & product reclaim
Together we are under this Left-wing spell from 2004 – 2010
Tragedy mars ACTION since slump began
A Fairytale Deal of cancer and payment protection [hurry only 4 days left]
will our language strip the deadly SPECTACULAR?
A phoney in the Guide to Equity Release is Dedicated to
packaging, franchising AND stopping the stabbings.
ALL THE boardroom ear wax is now paying off
so Go for green or just REDUCE BLOATING dream deals
This battle to CURE insurance on Loans,
Cocaine,
FOOTBALL,
racing events,
ballot papers,
pearl stud earrings,
reconditioned stairlift,
PYREX 3-PIECE CASSEROLE SET,
chicken chilli burger,
Classic Camera,
THERMAL LINED RUGBY TROUSERS,
and
HEARING AIDS
is fantastic!
this approach is the unions coldest in 30 years, avoids jail term
and MAKING HISTORY CHEAPER!

L

following and following
can’t even see the words in front of my face
walking past memories, streets, windows and empty crisp packets. what a horrible day not so much rain as wet air, no escape really but
what did the people care? came out to see regardless.
this happening - just for the publics interest.
meeting cobbles next to slick roads drinking up our steps
pushing prams, squeaky wheels join the escaping
metal sounds
big boxes lumber past, the noise of the buses
chewing up your ear holes

this away and that
spatial awareness, but how to document and
why should i?
somewhere far away, there are horses running wild. roosters crowing
here are people who are just waking up to a new same old day.
birthdays the days before, anniversaries the coming week, party because
a break is required. images growing out of the gutters and leaping upon
me. sloshing around the can.
what kind of recipe is this and
what was that? so many questions. a dog,
i see him and he me
if smiles could be exchanged they were.
a child caught my glace, i threw i back
coupled with another
scribble.

that was it to show
this the now, back then
arriving the first time, shape
form and place could forever be erased and now
a small bouncing ball leads itself.
time and a place slowly sipped by the winds.
singing and asking and following this
town welcomes you to it bosom (some choose what they want to see)
pick a pink and green one
and follow that line along the direction but for
the love of god watch out for the traffic! i
know what they’re thinking
the missing member…

if it doesn’t make you happy
what more can there be? two huge
flying saucers revealed and watching with an underlying joy,
lighting bolts and lava screaming through your veins and words moving too fast for your mouth to catch
My son what is this you have done?
what is this untapped resource? your
claret finally turns the corner, looks you up and down and apologises for being late.
but back to the matter at hand, all the spirits and rubber bisects are hung like fresh carcases waiting,
just waiting for the next tumble of that little thing
where has she gone?
over there to pick it
up
and
pick
it
up

again and again

Thursday, 7 October 2010

L

what a day!
what a day to be alive.
what a time to look at the sun and smile
what a time sit back and chill,
if just for a while.
what a day to run down the street like
a free man.
what a day to be 23,
zeppelin on the table,
pussy on the stereo,
old new film in the new old camera,
snappin' away.
what a day to step up to the plate.
what a day to think how far we've come
and far we've still to go.
what a day to pull your boots on and walk with pride,
what a day to politely decline
but give them a quid anyway.
what a day to smile at the passing strangers,
to think of the friends who can't be here and
the ones who will.
what a day to be happy, simply that
your heart is beating in your chest.
what a day to be lifted above it all
to fill your lungs with the heady scent of
the fresh morning air.
what a time to stare down your fears,
declaring, 'i don't care'.
what a day to sit at your desk and create something beautiful.
what a time to clime a tree and scream at the top of your lungs
because you know you are an animal with the gift of consciousness.
what a day to put down the weapons and love all the people.
what a day to give up the fight, just for a second.
what a day to be yourself for yourself, to smoke a cigar and
enjoy that dram that takes you away.
what a day to say, its all about me,
honey.
what a day to raise a glass and realize
what really matters.
what a day to say its good to see you.
to say its a shame you can be here,
to miss them too much.
what a fine day to love
everyone.

Monday, 4 October 2010

c (saw)

He caught a sight of death in his periphery early on
and wasn't able to shake it from his view.
So he wasted his days like the blind waste bullets,
throwing them wildly into the night sky
one at a time
never to be lived out by even the longest reaching of souls.
He waited each day for the darkness
to step forward,
introduce itself,
and apologise for being late.

Wednesday, 29 September 2010

n

the king is gone (but not forgotten -
neil young sings of jonny rotten)
and cereal hoops grace my throat,
they grace the autumn,
and the dew on the sil.
i brush my teeth, look forward
to tomorrow and coco pops;
the spinning stops, the needle lifts,
dust gathered on tip. cereal and dust
and neil young in the
morning. (jonny rotten,
king forgotten etc.)


Monday, 20 September 2010

n - tweet

two tits in a tree,
and they're looking
at me.

L

i like the pope
THE POPE SMOKES DOPE
with a choir boy, one on ether side
HE LOVES TO HAVE A GOOD GROPE
he likes to tie a rope
AROUND HIS LITTLE POPE
and tugs and pulls
UNTIL HE CAN NO LONGER COPE
and spurts some holy soap

all over the divine carpet...

Saturday, 18 September 2010

a five minute thought on the pope (it occured to me that 'the overwhelming popejar' is a great name and maybe we should find a use for it). c

Has the pope ever touched a midget?
By mistake perhaps,
a misdirected handshake perhaps.
A constant companion under that robe of his,
there to keep a watch on those holiest of genitals,
to catch any sacred semen in a sacred jar
and slap them back into flaccidity during prayer.
One can only specualte.

Thursday, 16 September 2010

n

Peanuts roasting in a bowl
(for the first time im really scared)
black eyed toilet bowl raining in my mind
(a painting idea, you see)
and bandini is there too, buk and celine, all
of the guys, making it easier (trying too)
“but hunger doesn't pay no more”
and neither do the banks (job centre etc.)
well whats a girl to do,
laptop fires and HD eyes
little red slips from the royal mail
(you were too royaly fucked to collect your mail)
KEEP CALM, CARRY ON (what's that even mean?)
like that, conversations with brackets
and poets, scuffling in the mud under the poet tree
(yes, the oft quoted poet tree)
spitting leaves etc etc etc etc
and mentioning the pope for the
third time today.

n (bracket poem)

r(oss) main, hanging there
crimson hue rolled up and
smoked; chewing won't suff
ice (ice baby)
(yeah that's nice, baby)
and still you hang,
choked on a rope (picture hook, look, chinook (etc))
and i marvel at this, your little folk
carrying umbrellas, goats and walkmen,
walk, men, escape the tide whilst lending
yourself as subject matter for a
masterpiece of modern art, cast
your eyes out unto my well lit
room, spanish guitar, peanut collection nesting
in a bowl (i eat one now)
and eyes, yes your eyes, burnt umber holes
burnt into wood - grainy brown stars
dancing for me (he, she and they etc.)
YOUR GETTING US NOWHERE
(peanuts in the bowl etc.)
just keep walking, linseed oil feet
and turpentine will (will) get you there.
and please, if i annoy you, just say
so.

n

like that, the anti semite biotics
cleansed my soul (scrot)
and felled the poet tre....wait,
[motif used] cried that fat bloated pope,
pope on a rope to scrub my bare back (arack)
obama, oh mamma, shammanic ritual
long forgetten psyilocybin mushroom juice
dribbling from the lips
dribbling from the ass
and the windows as early morning
condensation (nice sensation).
really, one day this will have to
start
stop
making sense.

Monday, 13 September 2010

n

at this i am wide awake,
acceptive of the ceiling light
the smoke alarm
wall sockets
window sill
tea
cup
;
and you see it too,
right there by the life
that you thought was in
your pocket: but it's out there,
riding bareback , howling
at the moon, eating the plants
that gave you consciousness in the
first place, second place, third place, last
night this happened also
delirium
coca-cola
pay per view
gold fish in the bowl
cd on the radio
words on the tips
of your ancient lips
and nonsense
non sense
(non sense).

n

and he said "hey man,
you don't need space to
create, you need balls!"
and that settled there,
right there in my head.
and so i took out my crayons
and got back on the horse.
i glance out the window;
there's too many hellfires
burning, and not enough trees.
at this i smile, and once again
dylan jogs along beside me
at 33rpm, never slowing
despite the needle
gathering dust.

n

fuck the people and
the pope;
they're all locked in the
arms of a
crazy idea
(free equity release dvd).

Friday, 10 September 2010

L

how many lives have i gone through?
watching the kids playing outside. it was a long time ago when
i was one of them. unaware.

coins in the machine. whats it gonna show? - you and me. now
look at everything
all that is around you.
people
objects
emotions
the tangible. the
unborn and the chrysalis.

look out your window
both of them.
here and now
is what we are. does this sound Right or have i
Left you in the dark?

the horse has bolted, runs away like wild animals over
the hill and out of sight.
you'll be there,
we all will.

that shall be the time to look back and laugh. then, and
only then will you know.
falling from the precipice with a
smile
on your face is the highest place we
can reach.

L

look past the images
take your time, swim
in the ocean, breath
in the air, taste the fruit.
feel the fear
of
those involved, look
at your self, take
your time on this one
brother. it
ain't nothing to be
afraid of
brother. merrily
merrily merrily
...

Thursday, 2 September 2010

n

2 free supplements in the paper today;
each proclaiming 'the end of
the world'. tetris on the tv
come run dmc me
a classic CD,
remindant of lyle
's golden syrup,
washed down with pancakes
jeremy kyle
and mobile broadband
; chess for a fiver
incense on a stick
friends on the phone
art on the net
post in the box
and stars in the mind.

n

planet earth comes to me
as i rest on my couch,
applying for tesco
applying for greggs
mammals laying eggs
marsupials in the head
touch em now your dead
growing in the shed
penis in the pants, ants, oh
plants and hand stands
the order of the day,
funded, of course,
by the tax-payer (paedophile layer)

so, now
this is life, laid bleak and bare
on the couch
in the tub
on the bowl
over there --> poetry from the oft
repeated 'poet tree' - falling with the season,
eating all the fruit and
spitting pips through the box
and into the face of the deserving post
man, oh man, that guy's a cunt:

eating my mail
waking me up
sucking my pips through the holes
in his face
penis on a plate
its penis on a plate
wenis a la mate
remis is too late

quick quick quick
its time to chop down
the poet tree, spitting poems around the poets,
see?

Thursday, 26 August 2010

L

smoke em
smoke em
smoke em if you got em

n

cortez the killer, mill her
and bake her into bread, buy weed
from fred, and bake your mind slowly
in afghan haze,
yellowC, window, bannana's, sil,
where did it go? oh,
there it is, a couple of years
back, beside U my casio watch
that lay on my wrist,
broke and now in landfill
next tNo slippers
poems and
university grades. T

Monday, 23 August 2010

n

GMTV
AH-HE-HE-HE

n

hospital beds and
garden sheds
potted plants and
question marks.
i see you friends,
in the shine of my shoe
and im playing chess somewhere,
with all of you.

Sunday, 22 August 2010

L

just another beautiful illusion
another way to make a smile appear if just
for a moment.
borderline sexual excitement that i now have everything the way i want it to be.
were talking material you see - everything in its right place, you could say.
but why does this music i hear not sounds a good as it should?
don't fight it,
it is a lost cause. you know what to do. throw it
on the pile of reasons for misery, the one next to child molestation and high school

Saturday, 21 August 2010

L

the piano plays for the white coats.
thank you, it is beautiful and fits the mood rather well, being
a tragedy unfolding all on its own, as discarded crisp packet do.
i miss you, and think about you far too much and when its not
appropriate. the laughs of friends, the clinking of grandmas good china, side-stepping dog shit on the pavement.
give me ten of these and i'll still be an unhappy fool. fantastical murders without the repercussions. joyousness wrapped in little bombs
but also held
in front of one's eye. superbly
crafted visions of the capital help the escape and chase of new-ness. do not do what i have done children, follow anothers way, smile and don't ever ask
for the
truth because it'll sting just like the hornets do.
the chattering and presents of others astounds me to a level of sheer disgust. should i attempt to change my sorry out look
? has the bitter
resentment descended upon me too soon? in early years in full bloom in such a horrific ass fuck of a time ?
old brother alcohol has shacked up with
the folks in town for too long now, his buddies are gonna come join him.
what am i to do?
don't tell me, i might not listen.

Thursday, 19 August 2010

n

Theres something slowly maddening about
being unemployed, penniless, studioless
as the latest clique of big timers open the doors
of dodge, up the salty east coast and between the
bridges on the tay.

Wednesday, 18 August 2010

n

cunt max to the max
imum, eemum, he-mum
with tits and balls
oxymoron laying on the
floor, legs to the hips
flinging bits of chips
down on the table
black and red 50 /50
slut champing at the bit
spitting poetry around the base
of the poet tree.

n

quick quid dot co dot uk
okay? its so fucking simple
spiders in the plug hole
bugs in the bed
ryvita round your head
ryvita round your head
lorraine kelly giving head
jam jar on the floor
itunes on the mac
post in the box
and chronic
indifference to
it all.

Tuesday, 17 August 2010

n

horny stacks
heaping up the hay bales
sheeping up the exhales
fucking all the flock
oh yeah
dont stop
its harvest time
neil young and rhyme
parsley sage and said time
45rpm chipmunk sublime,
slow it down
flick the switch
and smoke a portion of the cardboard
sleeve, mingled of course
with your favourite leave.

Monday, 16 August 2010

n

my body as artillery
and eyes sniper
shotgun sneeze
cough mortar
piss rifle
shit baa
zooka.

Friday, 13 August 2010

n

needs must
musty in the corner
tits on the tv
and an autumn wind
rattling the window
rattling the mind
as friends bed down
in seperate towns
beside aging mobile phone
contact lists having
never seen
each others dicks.

Wednesday, 28 July 2010

L

where hath all the sausage rolls gone?
where hath they gone?

Saturday, 24 July 2010

L

smooth and angular,
quads laid high and
strong. choosing the
right block equals the number
of sausage rolls consumed by the
third place participant.
tennis past the season, heart felt brain
farts, all to say au revoir,
will he be missed?
theres plenty of ‘jibber’
and
‘jabber’ next to the chipolatas.
oh! you must dip
the garlic and herb across your face.
the level has been
doubled and the friends
sit across from the
family.

what could be said -
this cacophony could
be taken as
high as the depths of your mind
if the blocks were taken
from the
slooth.

but that will come later
cos iv just caused
it all to come crashing
down.

c

When life gives you aids make lemonaids.

Friday, 23 July 2010

n

the veneered coffee table snears its answer
right back at you, its a cunt and not
of the nice kind. 3 chipper woodlouse gnawing
at its heel. just keep going, friend. like that, steady
and blind. im by your pocket side,
hustling for change, clawing down passers by, taking the dick
from the drawer
to the store
to cash it all in. 50 / 50
you in?

L

what is it the motivates you
young sir?
what keeps the thoughts of
giving it all up
from creeping into your skull?
is it long walks in the woods or
the tits in the papers and on
midnight telly?
a warm cup of tea is enough
to keep the knife in the drawer for
a wee bit longer.
why are you stifling the
urge to scream at the
top of your lungs when you can't
find that jar of honey in the
supermarket?
what keeps the fire lit
when its over and
everyone has wondered into the
woods to look for where it all
went wrong?

Thursday, 22 July 2010

n

neil young rides along
with me as i build flat -
pack furniture on
the bedroom floor.
there's 3 dead flies on
the windowsill
and a glass of water 4
days old by the
bed. it's 6pm
and rainy outside.

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

n

fuck me
its hot today
its hot in the car
its hot in the ice cream
its hot in the pants
its hot up the wank
its hot around the tits

god damn

its so fucking hot

Monday, 19 July 2010

L

threw in the towel
tired of just being a number
did'nt want to be a monkey
no more

there were times when i enjoyed it
but seldom they were
when others went they took more than
just themselves

the bloated spider watching
in its misery tries to pull you down to
the hole that its in
but don't blame her
it is so much more which has made her bitter

not how i expected it to be
one day it was no longer me
gave up the badge
gave up the tie
gave up the apron
gave up the fained smiles
counld'nt take a another shovel load
gave up.

Tuesday, 13 July 2010

n

big c, i see
you there, hoisted
aloft, slutty, framed
and famed.

Saturday, 10 July 2010

n

you there
fat cunt on
a chair.

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

CC

once in, twice out
overwhelmingly tight
red light, green light
overwhelming sexually transmited flea bite

one blind child
overwhelmingly dwhyte
two lemons, three limes
overwhelmingly sprite

one baxter,a burgandy and a scotch
overwhelming afternoon delight
mothers arms, fathers crotch
overwhelming knife fight

once gone, twice return
overwhelming flight
minnor cut, serious burn
overwhelming.....
overwhelming....
overwhelming....
overwhelming....
....
....
cunt.

Friday, 2 July 2010

n

june rolls by,
drier than ever, drier
than the pussies of
the flowers and of
the bank accounts
and of the sink as i
move my possessions
onto the street.

Monday, 21 June 2010

n

a mad man
squatting on the bowl,
dust under sink, heat-sync to stop
me blowing up, out, shitting about the
room, splatting on the wall,
my star spangled anus going for
the roof, hoof hoof it up there sweet
curry and pear, land on my
face, repeat, chase the shit
around a bit
then shower,
disgraced but smiling
inside.

Monday, 14 June 2010

L

piles and piles of cooked grissle
my belly full of watered down beer and bbq
- a way of life not, a method of cooking

sealed boxes and buildings and tanned skin and signs
grabbing your retinas. smoke screens and glistening plastic smiles.
eat eat eat
the gratest creation is false air, i rejoice
in a land of burning hells.
buy buy buy

i document as best i can,
though my heart crys for cool air and sincerity
but the tenticals have reached across the ocean
and are creeping, creeping, creeping

...

Friday, 11 June 2010

n

cup de monde!
sacre blu! suck my balls!
en ecosse?
ah haw hee haw!

Wednesday, 26 May 2010

n

in an infinite hollywood
my reel plays out
and i recline
as the hot sun grass
dies beside my
hamburger feet.

Wednesday, 19 May 2010

n

two one who won
no one, it's
over purple pints
sticking to my shirt,
sweating out promise and
fucking street lamps
all the way home,
crying on the couch with
glass in our eyes,
street lamp jizz pouring paint
brushes with death,
the great hush,
pulsing in our ears,
sand dunes in the sky
back to save the
universe how terse
the verse,
spunout and walking home our seperate
ways for what could be
should be
the very last
time.

Wednesday, 12 May 2010

n

traffic cone, funnelling sweet garlic
pyramids high unto a cold may sky,
3 old friends mellowing together under cool lighting,
glowing, burning and puffing way
hanging from the cliff,
sea weed on the lips
see weed on the tips
of their fingers, worn and weary,
painted out, erased by
primer, dust
and haze. well its too bad
that our old selves
couldn't be here
today they,
are drawing dicks,
swigging hips (flask),
melting cheese under foreign grill
's = choice baguettes of ace's and fives,
watching films,
with star crossed
eyes.

Tuesday, 11 May 2010

c

Money flows like the prostitute blows,
like the old man sitting with a king hopes for an ace.
Drops in the ocean or splashes in the fish bowl,
no matter my friend,
for luck is a trigger happy blind man who has killed many but spared us few,
so open that face of smiles and let the goodness slide in before the balance shifts
and leaves us wanting one more.

Monday, 10 May 2010

L

a great big bloody tornado,
i think that is what it was.
could you give me a
moment
to collect my thoughts, please.
things area little strange...

i am woken every morning by those
fucking diggers outside. the metal
claws chewing at the earth, creating
the trenches upon which i wonder from
green to blue.
orange is for beer and red is for tea. those
spanish girls left but did they leave a mark?
a digital world is where i rule. temporally, all
this will be nothing.
soon
electric impulses only

c

Boredom has led me to this, nothing else i am sad to say.
Please accept it knowing that every letter has saved me from a moment of much needed reflection.

Sunday, 9 May 2010

n

fuck the heart of my hearty
brekfast cereal see real
madrid MADBID.COM! stern john!
chess pawn!
frog spawn!
sexy faun! gliding in
the lube, sliding on a pube,
THE TOAST HAS POPPED!,,,let's feast in
the east,
no yeast
off piste
atleast
we have free
speach.

n

ole green eyes
coco pop thighs
slim and fine
you'll make it
all the
way.

n

lick that shit from
your shrew, running over yer
shoe,
slackbinding = hiding \\from\\
your local
bookstore,
gimme more,
fucking whore
we'll eat your face, shore,
deep black
caves.

Saturday, 8 May 2010

n

ears flapping around your
floor, laughing in your
face, lips, the word is on
your lips
the english mustard's on
your hips,
take-it-to-the-limit and
flip the bit,
a hip - hop, a
hip don't stop. (stop)

Friday, 7 May 2010

n

hang my parliament from
a tree mingled cherry -
blossom through it's
hair. big dicks dangling,
limp and scared david
cameron, tony blair (brown, G)

Saturday, 1 May 2010

n

one in a hundred and
he's taken one
for a
hundred lucky
bastards that won't
even know, now
his penis can't
grow.

n





Thursday, 29 April 2010

n

there's a
hole in my
head i
found in
the shed
what calibre
was the
rifle?

Thursday, 15 April 2010

L

sliding down a mountain is super fun!
until you fall over. then you imagine the snow
is the faces of all those you hate.
you stab your ski pole into their faces,
again and again.
then you are happy

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

n

here me
now
godard got
hard over films that
should not rhyme.
well we,
the collective we,
we fuck him collectively
in the ass with progress,
sensibility,
reasoning,
and
decency.
blur it up,
cover the balls and deny the
penetrated rectum it's
exposure before it returns to
closure only
to open again
to shit and
call it art.

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

n

fat fuck on
the till, scan my
peas
beans
ice
creams
i screams
"NICE SPLEENS".
floor?
see?
needs
cleans.

n

run rabbit
run from the
smoking gun of
your ferretted mind. spy
a dead bird, needled
through the crotch, lying,
just lying there to
the sound of the day and
the big brass
band and
to the sea
gull's delight.
food for he, king from
the sea and eat it
too, munch it down
and the big brass
band and
they play on louder,
louder,
louder,
louder and
fly, little
bird, fly against
the rain drops that cuss
your feathered back, and
find a
slice, any
slice of
the world that's
not shapped
like a penis, thrust
up and in your
face.

Monday, 12 April 2010

n

orgasm who
has'em ? dirty you,
blue and saxo -
phoney.
filthy fraud in a
moonlit movie.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

L

looked just like him
a dead ringer you could say,
born into this you
could say. ruff skin, like
he'd been rolled around in an hour glass.

if it really was him,
really fucking was him,
would i kneel (neil) down and kiss that old
cunt's feet? that drunkard genius?
that talker of the times?

Tuesday, 6 April 2010

n

L, burning out there
softly in the snow as it
melts through spring,
dandelions with cum in
their eyes.

Thursday, 25 March 2010

n

i glanced upon a chanced
midnight wallop and i
altered him a stare,
i was steady and smooth in
my silent attack,
staring, staring, softly
staring and
making him nervous so that he
ought to say something, maybe
shout, hit me and i
relish his confused; suspicious; angry
face and i scream "
BLOWJOB LIPZ!" and
then the rush the chase
is on and he's really pounding after
me and i'm thinking what to do
next and i toss a "
PAEDOPHILE!" over
my shoulder and he picks up
the pace as if
it were a child.
that wind! that wind, and
i'm runing like
it, faster than it and right
on through it and i've cut
a trail and he is sliding
down it and his foot is kissing
my foot and my face is kissing
the tar and as i fall
i drop a "
CUM COCK!" and
then i sleep, i sleep
a long sleep at the side of
the road and he
wanders off a
midnight wallop wondering who
i was.

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

L

when i go home
i will tell the people about this.
i will have lots of storys. they will
listen to me and they will love me and
the foolish among them will
wish they were me.

L

each day I drift further
yet the shore feels strangely close.
i need to dive down
deep.
and not come back.

and i can't believe it's not butter,
mother fucker.

Wednesday, 3 March 2010

n

spring has
sprung and
a neil young
string section
accompanies
golden sunrise over a calm
north sea. Rising and
falling slowly in deep
powerful bars of
gold; each
one gently fucking
the other to the
shimmering beat and
tempo of the
morning.
awake! and
glance around at
the peasant sheep, for
they no nothing of
it and
chew only the cud of
last night's
frost.

Thursday, 25 February 2010

c c n

tits and tweets dominate
the streets
peace cunt, cunt to the max, squared, take it baby,
industrial rubharb is sensitive in tone
give me, give me, give me a bone, strong and
hard i like to make faces in lard.
Face fuck a midget and watch him giggle,
its not my fault your mums clit is more like a sqiggle,
its her councelor so, squared and bo-oo fucking
radley, eastenders bradley.
Stacey you bitch of satan, suck the banaster and say thankyou,
dick,
council flat, counsil cat
not many have shat but many shag rat
i don the hat of stephen from take that, although he is a
dead cunt.
he's black he said, i know he said, okay i'm cool with that, i encourage racial blending,
yeh me too,
blending without disending?fourfold our crishendo,
clash and bang and fuck sue sang - soo s, ang? what bang! stan?
neil young says hi, crazyhorse turns to crazy,
i ran, ran, ran and liked a bewildered daisy,
shadey mavey, is a bit shadey; but she got it anywayzey (guest poet matt cameron),
lazy bitch,
not fallen in a hairy ditchbut not all is lost, but my birthday card is embossed,
right this shit is ended, just stop it, neil i shall pass this to you for the last line, with elegance and pride:
niel young has a giant face, the eyes are tight dispite the space,
colins mum has room to spare but she has stained underware,
yet pause, bend us all
over and suck us by the
baws.
smell the dust, let it dust
your brain,
refrain,
from living;
and fuck
off.

Friday, 19 February 2010

n (for L)

you weedy mountain goat!
trekking south across the
vast plains of a europe
steeped in winter like a
toy soldier plunged into a
bowl of vanilla ice-
cream. wait
untill spring, as was once
penned, my friend, wait
untill spring when the legs
come out and the bossom's sing.
yet dont forget; photo and
film, just
do your
thing.

Thursday, 18 February 2010

n

down i go;
bestial - swimming
on down through the thick
dense (space like)
surface waters of that
thing called sleep and
i'm resting now i'm really
resting now and
the city lights visit me,
fragmented in the cool layer of
water covering my
shining eyes and
they are resting now -
fixed to nothing,
just two silver birds
coasting on warm updrafts
on into the sun. and
over there on my mantle-
piece the clock winks at
me one last time
with it's
little hand.

Tuesday, 9 February 2010

n

panty hose panty
those werent
here last night some
whore must have krept
in whilst i was ass
leep and whenced upon
my floor
and
bed and
chose to leave
them panty hose
all over my pansy
clothes.
nice! maybe i
can take em
to show the guys
at work
and say i
ripped em
off and ripped
her off
and she left those
cloth
and all the off
iss will be on
fire with regales and
tales of how i
fucked her in
those panty
those fancy hose just
got to burn
burn this
receipt and slip
them once
twice
thrice again,
over my trembling
feet.

Thursday, 4 February 2010

L

what a welcome!
a cleansing, purifying experience.
and what a choice i have at my feet, lotions and
potions and i can even clean my teeth in here. you can
sing what ever you want while
you do your thing. right now this
belongs to me. always blast the cold and drip dry before you
get out. but thats not for yet. can go a couple of
days without it (that depends
though) but i'll always need it.
good after a heavy one the night before. only thing is, it can clean your ass,
but not your
head.

Saturday, 30 January 2010

L

'come on baby'
light that fire
pass it this way.
need to get that high,
still have to drink so
much more

got to not stop
can't be caring about much
can't be told truths.
please hold my head
and
keep it under the water

Thursday, 28 January 2010

c

Gun, leather jacket, French, hold up, fuck up, bang, bang, blood, BLOOD, smash, piss, shit, piss,

Intermission

(Piano music)

Four gangsters sit on the floor leaking without a bucket

end.

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

L

tits!
tits i see
on a thin Ricci

delta and dust bowl and
a tribute to R.L.
niggas and moanin guitars
and a snake.

lets all get
down again in downtown.
losing is
nobody's fault but
my own. and that cunt dealer!

'best thing
to cure the blues,
is some
good pussy'!

n

drink up and hit
the chips
you cunt
font
times new roman!
gamble!
chip off the old block
ha.
10 down
shit.

Thursday, 21 January 2010

L

kiss her good bye and put on my coat
but she wants
the kiss to be the last thing.
i shall return to my lady with pockets full of paper!

an adventure to the house of vices,
of tables
and of booze whores.

who lives at this house?
characters of the earth -
a mixed bag of sweets
i can
feast on.

lined up (around)
the trough,
eating cards.
faces covered in spit is
the effect
chips you cannot eat
have on you.

lights.
so many little
lights
that change colour
like my mood swings.

a two and a two -
just a number with all the meanings
of working and slaving and
slaughtering.

she did
smile
when i did return to her,
in my bed
with her one
cat.

it is black (with some white)
and likes to stare and you
from across the room
it does not know a thing,
anything.

why am i writing about her creature?
(what shall be done with) my winnings?
nothing.

this is my winnings…

enjoy.

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

n

A global solution

The Berryman appears and declares
everyman to ears;
he announces all the queers
who sail on down the years,
never fathering a child.
The crowd surge, anticipating a genocide
but
alas
in a twist of sorts,
he declares this a positive and
encourages HIV of this situation, too.
The crowds breathe why?
And he speaks them in the eye;
the grain is growing whilst those
queers are blowing,
and the electric wind from Europe has
commenced wild fire in the east.
There’s too many mouths to feed,
there’s so many Bluetooth dongles being shipped
to and fro its making people go
crazy and love and shag and spawn
countless other people who
love and shag, and require yeast.
These mighty queers! Taking charge of this situation,
sucking and blowing and all
the while knowing,
they’re fighting the fight,
Heaving and ho’ing,
they’re slowing the numbers,
stopping the growing.
Salut them all,
lube up,
and save the world
from over
population.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

n

i glance around the
room that is filled
with friends,
acquaintances,
and people I've yet
to meet.
and as i greet
them i
greet
and bawl and cry my poor
little eye
's out.
it's all so beautiful and
all so sad,
all of these people,
sailing ships,
writing books,
selling holidays,
to the privileged and
the proud.
we've put blood
into this,
and yet it bites and we
endlessly fight and even when,
on my deathbed then,
i do not think
i will be happy with what
i have
achieved.
it will come to me and
we will come to see,
it's all just earth,
dust and
dreams.

Thursday, 14 January 2010

n dubz

fat slut
i see you coming
Towards me and coming
in your pants because you
have a 2 foot double ended
dildo up your ass and
the other end is in your mouth
and you are frantically
sucking yourself off;
endlessly seeking an endless fuck as you pluck
the pathetic crabs from
your teeth.
and all the while that idiot wind
hollers and howls as you
try to convince your mind that
it is experiencing orgasm.
You fat blob of pity!
go forth and
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
off.

Saturday, 9 January 2010

n

FUCK