Thursday, 29 September 2011

we sat there,
playing chess - just
me and that dirty mother
fucker - bastard pawn til the
break of DAWN
we each slammed a
sweet measure of whiskey,
and stabbed each other
right in the eyes.

Cunt

Fuck

Shit

Thursday, 8 September 2011

n (afternoon coffee)

migratory buzzwords!

sweet caffeine buzz to ignite
the old pocket bird,
twenty6 charcter orgasm
stunning
exploding
re-loading the old dusty cells of
a parched baked mind,
brought to life with
such sweet clarity for a window –
a brief, brief window – where
the cycle is broken and those keys –
those keys gleam and dance and arrange
themselves in sexy little rows
practically spitting out the words,
each bent over and whoring themselves
to your mind.
the clouds have c;leared and a million shiny
pricks
on sticks
stars of the lid
present themselves to you.
your dirty consciousness can’t get enough!

n

sometimes i'd like
to find a deep, dry well
and climb down to it's core
with only my mind.

down here i would think about;

last night's dinner,
bus fares,
20p coins,
poetry,
sex,
work,
oil paintings,
wallpaper,
phone numbers,
rauschenberg,
hemingway,
grass,
e-mails,
shopping bags,
masking tape,
cold beer,
camera film,
communism,
art school,
dust,
mistakes,
toenails,
numbers,
flowers,
bedsheets,
television,
postcards,
picture-hooks,
vehicles,
dylan,
carpets,
home,
grandparents,
paint,
holidays,
movies,
newspapers,
boiled eggs,
despair,
ducks,
9/11,
hotel rooms,
drawings,
tooth-brushes,
cats,
los angeles,
oranges,
toilet roll,
cigarettes,
evolution,
mushrooms,
consciousness,
tooth-picks,
war,
central-heating,
whiskey,
bleach,
telephones,
fast-food,
chess,
winter,

but, I'd probably be too scared
to go back up.

n

cold autumnal morning
signalling said season
has arrived.

and so the spiders roll in -

big
hairy
motherfuckers -

bastard children of the summer,
going for the shootout
kicking
screaming
biting at the face
eyes
throat
of the year.

cold energy condensed
into a bloody 8-track.
finding holes within holes
terrorising the walls
with mad syphilis minds.

at this i sit here,
drinking coffee and
spinning good morning
mr magpie for the first time
this autumn.