Thursday, 31 January 2013
catch the pops
in a pad
from your pocket
youre at work
on the train
in the drain
SEE them/call them REAL
net them without second thinking
in the calm
with jazz and squinting
throw grit in the seams
plant flowers where they join
then feed it all to dragons
build truth from their turds
Wednesday, 30 January 2013
Tuesday, 29 January 2013
with 6 pack
stretching shop carrier bag
a kinder egg
cos its got a toy in
i sozzle and dream/gulping and pondering
belching between the small shots
blank eye broadcast 2005
monster ghosts rise from red depths
rage hidden - heroic
but i can see it coming!
i look away
Monday, 28 January 2013
piss stain moon
glows low gothic
and yellow mean
moon doesnt fit here
sat like he's shelved above charcoal chunks of forest
and the horizon rubble line
i carry thirty nine scribbled-on calendars up the hill
in a sober black bag
i mumble to the moon thats pinned down where children can reach
Sunday, 27 January 2013
it may sound silly or off
often i realise i have not died
not yet accidentally gasped in to long sleep
thru black celebration and into nowheres peace
the chances are i wont tomorrow either
i hold the fearlessness of the dead and their armour
the nerve of the insane in calm sure paws
of realisation and age thatshock me with gentle electric
burnt out many times
life is endless and relentless and exhausting
its always there until its gone
its all through the looking glass
get it together
i'd probably be dangerous
Saturday, 26 January 2013
it was a cycle
a spiral/heading round and round and then down
i'd lived it in ignorance and rode it blind
inhaling all its hot-spice flavours
blown in on bad winds
i'd hidden in its dull mountains
on wipeboards in warm rooms in secure facilities
learnt it/the coping mechanisms and the physiology
nodded all the time
imbibed by osmosis the theory and the science
now its here again/trembling on the tight architecture
my back mind
on the backdoor
looses to white noise and the bombs and the triggers
that litter literature and characters
Friday, 25 January 2013
theres a delicious moment
that you cant properly taste or keep
it happens on waking
it happens before you know youre awake
nothing is anything and its comfy and its warm
youre an empty animal of sensation
it doesnt last
then everything comes up off the floor
and from under things and from behind things
flood of bad heat
youre life is stamped on your space in thick ink
takes sound hold
and thats it for the day
Thursday, 24 January 2013
a bad thing of shapes and barbs
hollow and strong and reaching
motorised and automatic
hungry carpet hooks
they latch into
1000 awful newspaper headlines
and stuff my head with their screaming
the bad thing
is a shadow of arms
magnify slender possible doom into biblical certainty
CREATE disaster from a hiccup
destroy your perception of your ability to cope
whirling discs of accelerating steel
makes you count the dark rainbows in the filings
Tuesday, 22 January 2013
timeless seconds of ENGAGEMENT
talking is the Werd - at work or in company
not enthused but animated
used-free and lost-found and busy-tired
the instant after
the flood flows - the world is a distant place
its animals are busy
they cackle and they battle and they bark and mew
timeless seconds of ALONE like anti-buhdda
so shining black
become lead floating
full of spinning discs
Monday, 21 January 2013
Sunday, 20 January 2013
she left her underwear
in a charming puddle on the bedroom floor
yesterdays thrown trousers
big and small/delicate and strong
except carefully wash and awkwardly fold
despite the latent smut in my mind
i had too much respect
Saturday, 19 January 2013
the digital green/grey infantry wall
on 100 fronts
democracies human coast
a soft machine border washed by crazy rip tides
ever changing kings shout at different surf
walk by shining in the oil flames
infantry wall - armed in the grey area
Friday, 18 January 2013
the 1940s are small pictures shedding skin in shades of brown
printed on the back in faded fountain pen ink
with strange printed E's and G's
they stand posed like a line of brown toads
in cricket clothes
with big ears
and hawk noses
in carpet trousers pulled up to here
their old stories of dream bungalow estates
ramble on to West End homos
live by catalogues of slacks and brown plastic attachments
the survivors are smaller than their pictures
their eyes have developed a wet twinkle with time
soon they will lie under blue tarpaulin in tin boxes
take a dumb-porter ride
past my office
and think - i want to buy new brown trainers
to be burnt in
Thursday, 17 January 2013
press those indicator buttons
that plastic technology and Communicate
a lady clearly of obvious worth
must speak the Mystery Werds with sweat wet hands
be no ones
one sweet moment is enough fuel to see me thru
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
Lamp lights policemans lined face saying DOES LEGO STAND FOR LET LEGO ROCK? I am saying NO dream copper thinking Lego’s an acronym.
Dark dream before early alarm I wash it away. In the shower spray sparkles. Dial it hotter then more hotter held safe inside dancing drops.
TV Paxman saying DO YOU AGREE CONDOMS HELP PREVENT THE SPREAD OF AIDS? Blair does. Soon to be Catholic will meet the pope. Expression too reasonable makes his evil your fault. Paxman saying WHEN YOU MEET THE POPE WILL YOU TELL HIM? Blair saying BLAH BLAH BLAH hands wide eyes wide like it’s childish to ask.
It is St Colman of Cloynes Day was poet laureate of
back when being a scald
meant something. Ireland
Bus empty because so early I am sitting in middle of back seat. Feel like a king. Dead foxes left by farmers as warning rot on A road verges. Burnt out blue Focus by the petrol station sells caravans now. Van men smoke on phones hunched over the wheel teenagers ride silent shotgun. Couple of clouds over the
Thames glow pink in the grey.
7.30 AM canteen miserable woman puts cheap bacon on white slices bearded IT consultant hair gelled in a dinosaur crest saying MY DAYS! as she butters it he belly laughs WHY NOT MORE FAT? Married to statuesque black woman adopted her kids watches Disney Pixar movies on his laptop between meetings he says LATERS strolls up to Finance with milk. He has my Come And See DVD. Don’t want it back.
Builders in torn hoodies and hi-vis on hot mobiles queue for full English’s charm smiles out the cooking crone. Building £8 million multi-storey opposite A&E. Unspecified amount to be deducted from wages for staff to park. Everyone talks about it saying I AINT PAYING, I AINT PARKING THERE.
Nothing to read I am watching the world out the tall tinted window. Buses coming in swinging round going out. Nurses in hats hurry from cabs and husbands cars.
going down sweet HP sauce mixing with melting butter all clear yellow and wet
brown. Builders spread The Sun out and
I feel a sense of community under canteens high ceilings and hollow tinny chatter hospital day just starting. I shake it off.
Tom ex-police bigot sitting six tables down opens the Mail waits to retire. Same post as me he does little. Parades around in three-piece when he got a free Mason do after work. Leaving I nod to him. He is surprised. MORNING to Jim MAU with carrier bag and coffee. Still in DMs like when I knew him in 92.
In the office women over 40 bought these glass coasters you can put pictures in. Bought off the book man leaves books and other bits on the side in offices collects them and money in an envelope week later. Pass him in the corridors pulling a plastic trolley looks knackered nothing ironed. They print pictures of a pale vampire boy from a movie. They concentrate seal his face in glass talk about their dogs and grandchildren called
I am sipping hot coffee out a brown stained Covidien mug salt of the earth I am telling myself not easily led drones. Janines nephew I call Carboy is walking about playing Mine Sweeper on a PDA makes cars noises like tyre squeals and handbrake squeaks eats crisps his collar up tattoos out.
I COULD HAVE THAT PASTY FAGGOT he says.
HES PRETTY they chorus expressions motherly indulgent.
DON’T YOU SAY NOTHING ABOUT EDWARD! Janine says to me.
I sigh say MORNING look to work. Theres bags for MI unit come in. No one else goes down there. NOT ON MY
everyone says WHY SHOULD I DO IT. This
attitude prevails. I been there before
with Shirley Rose. We explore. We been on the roof. I wedged the door open. She laughed.
DON’T WANT TO BE THE PEOPLE GOT STUCK ON THE ROOF I say YOU EVEN GOT A
PHONE ON YOU?
I’LL TAKE THESE I say GET THEM OUT THE WAY.
THANK YOU Janine says snaps little scissors. Julie the boss on diet of water and one biscuit dead lighted eyes looks like she never heard of the MI nods.
Janine does a dance swings her hips. Another Edward pic on Google images. I am feeling irritation.
PRINT THAT ONE FOR ME. WANT THAT ONE. Childishly.
WHAT YOU DOING? Julie says is dazed. Left out but doesn’t get up. Not seen the films not read the books. Got HR appointment later meeting union rep first.
The MI unit half a mile down Level A corridor run by different Trust. We supply stuff for blood tests. 24 ply gauze and 21g needles and plasters and 6ml purple top blood bottles and Transpore tape bang my knee in plastic bag. The marked-up Meccano we do can’t help head problems. Belhus ward. Top floor. Secure ward.
MORNING to Cancer Rob maternity porter waits to retire over-tanned orange chest exposed out his tunic says MORNING back in measured clipped voice.
Skinhead porter with goatee and tattoos never smiles drives yellow Bradshaw Electric Vehicle tows breakfast carts past me standing out the way CHEERS MATE. Theatre orderlies slowly roll early patients in from main lifts.
Link corridor to MIU always empty. Worn wooden floor is split low sunlight diffuses thru filthy frosted plastic wall. Silence. Rusty penny perched on the wooden handrail where I left it last time down here with Shirley Rose when that guy got out.
Enter MIU proper everything changes. Abstract art painted on pastel walls. Chill muzak plays low. Square sofas sit empty. No one down here at all. I am in a lift go four floors up floors announced by polite female voice.
Level D old couple composed in coats sit on pastel chairs clutch hands and small bags. Look at the same nothing bit of floor together. Look up at me I nod. No staff no smiles.
Primal screaming comes from behind the locked door. Hairs on the back of my neck rise. Never heard anything like it. A scream at the emptiness of Wednesday morning. A screaming to let it all out. It doesn’t stop. Old couple look at the same bit of nothing floor. Wednesday morning nothing he’s not putting up with it.
Belhus ward. Top floor. Secure ward.
I buzz the buzzer look thru the glass slit. Inner door rattles open big black man in white fists full of keys looks at me confused. He’s opening outer door I am holding up bags he’s nodding reaching. Screaming way louder now. The old couple looking at him recognition registers. He doesn’t know what to say.
What a scream! What relentless yelling! I am uncomfortable. So loud. So primal. So horribly free. I am exposed. I am intruding on something. In the middle of some else’s pain. I am cold all over.
The old couple say together THAT’S HIM, THAT’S OUR BOY. HERE TO SEE HIM. They mean the screaming boy. He’s their boy. Soft winter sun washing colour from us all. Their boy. They know his scream.
Nodding black guy says I’LL LET THEM KNOW. Flicks me a look disappears behind locks and doors scream muffles only slightly.
Slowly leaving down empty stairs. Scream echoes inside me. Haste and smiles have no place here. Wednesday morning never felt so useless. Porter carting a cage of Coke and crisps and Kit Kats sees my shock.
In the link corridor soft sun filters thru filth. Far away hospital bustle is light at the end of the tunnel. A scream couldn’t make more sense. I walk in a dream. Break a cold sweat. Go outside.
Low winter sun coming at me sideways like some glowing knowing eye. Smoking shelter out back of theatres theres a woman in blue scrubs. I recognise her but she’s had a haircut talks to a cleaner looks likes a bulldog. I am nodding stand alone on the fire path weeds poke thru concrete shapes.
I am rolling a cigarette. I am squinting upwards so see only sky. The scream echoes inside me. His parents rumpled beige anoraks sepia photographs inside me. Air is still between ward blocks. Grey clouds hurtle along faraway.
Cleaner is saying she watched Something About Mary with her fella he didn’t like it then went home and she walked her dog taped over it with Scary Movie tonight he’s cooking. Their eyes look dead Superking smoke spirals in still air. Sirens wailing up the A road.
I feel desperate. I feel mad. I inhale deep. Screaming never made more sense. Screaming makes total sense. This is all going on. This talk. This sky. Back in there that was all going on. Screaming going on. Quiet parents quiet faces waiting going on.
Outside the office I telling Janine what I heard it had no power couldn’t make her see. Julie the boss gone to appointments.
YOU OK JOHNNY? she says.
WANT TO GO HOME HIT THE SCOTCH IN DIM LIGHT AND SILENCE. WHERE DO WE GET THE USELESS STRENGTH TO PERPETUATE? I say.
JOHNNY IT’LL BE OK, HAVE SOME DINNER OK? I CALL YOU TONIGHT she says.
Back in the office there’s new glass coasters everywhere.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
insisting hiss of white noise
when the cats own and prowl black and white crescents
milk floats to break the hectic static
with electric hums and organic rattle of glass bottles
winter afternoon cartoon gloom of englands grey jumper
smothers the day to early death
holds the town down
in some stuffy forever waiting room
overheated with Readers Digests
breathed deep to dodge and dive the accelerator panic bombardment
Complex Web of Intricate World
for daylight hugs to hold me tight and back to safe ground
an urge to Create that crumbles under its own weight
a Battle - fought with small pens between moving films
a small hand that nested light and brief
and lit all with its tiny vroooom
it anchored me
reaching clear thru the loose abstract clouds
where all is only PARTS . . .
dawns weak smudge and nights awful death
became suddenly so long ago
Monday, 14 January 2013
shiny expensive hospital equipment
delivered by drivers smelling of shit or detergent
wrapped safely in layers of air pockets
extensive fascinating cardboard formations
almost instantly disfigured and tainted
with electricians tacky approval stickers
paranoid permanent marker scrawl
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Fuck North my solid Ignorance & Fuck original stark intro left for emotional later that
thick-tread fingers fear to stroke - even think.
Fuck Nuclear hangovers that kill dogs on concrete Southbank hurry; click-screen hands
& tight joggers Ipod me.
And Fuck Smoke thats delicious & killing me blackly through Tuesday lips in election
hinterlands on fat fools blind prie-dieu.
Fuck You arrogant Sun Paper think busy world is looking to You yelling self-importance
on cheap folded page of Bingo & Tits.
Fuck camera loose women that wear plastic inside; parading Burgess proportion of dumb
milliard children in Realities sick kitchen marriage.
Fuck Hollywood false dreams sold sold sold, always new, to misled blockbusterers
disposable meaningless then fun after years; dated stoner parodys in the CAT midnight.
Fuck this Sofa I am stuck to; think paralytic remembrance - Honest Genius always…
And Fuck Past never washed; shines now brilliance of someones elses quicksilver
memory clean of Laysdown beasts & sick beach flu.
Fuck You Imperial Coke fizzes on nightstand audible brightly out-of-reach by square
Jap separates & bottle top herd.
Fuck Your Smiles of Cope stretched in the timpani wind, no screams in mental ward,
sympathy up Belhus between resigned parents & black man key locked doors.
Fuck happy-sad Memories rankling in corridors smells; Fuck You leaving them there to
lurk me - I was hungover then; ranked (killing dogs).
Fuck You Monsters that peddle Terrific Tat; cannot look away to save ourselves in tele
glow Everynight…escape in fast blink miniature peace dreams.
Fuck Borgia Streets of rare-chance pavement; kissing step nights of wine detail night air,
drunk cars softly walk pass.
And Fuck Jobs attended in mild surprise, cruelly patiently, to seethe rejiged in the
evening song with beer & fist-broken hash.
Fuck Sane Gratitude that smacks me down from hot-mind contact contact contact: Fuck
the devils thin line red-brown smeared provisional murk.
Fuck Lithium train rode home for Christmas; warm from sweet hand visits at gigs sat leg-
numb on beer slopped table in row of student strangers, broken rockers.
Fuck torture-dark Days repeating grey estuary curse curse curse; turning over in my head
laid over edge of ramshackle bed, ashtray’d chest schismatic.
have nothing…Fuck optimists who lead us all to hell like blind cunts.
Fuck the Ganges; All big rivers; Natures tutelary roadmap of brutal Monster beasts &
secret ugly fish wont stand nor sail nor swim boat nor raft.
Fuck You Manager-Lawyer where idealists once thunk the blood of duelling Ideas;
killing in cause & purpose mandated old school.
Fuck Fire - dull in my Glass Eye.
Fuck Towns & Cities I walk on soft haired legs hurting my paces hungry; road wind face
camera records passing bustle & mad horror.
Fuck Bush; Ignorant Faux-Tex playing Daddy Cock-Cock.
Fuck Lost Shit; bridges cold wind under early stars where Someones nose shone red;
faux-meek in fur bundles & knitted mitten paws.
Fuck Campfire lit Someone of nightdark beauty; natures Real intention in warm shadow
forest nights of splashed wax & bourbon-on-Thames.
Fuck Things roach like; summer smells more warm nights pint-sloshed on kebab kerbs
of familiar journey; booze shaggy legs & harsh comedy shouts echoing.
Fuck You vicarious living on ‘fetamine slabs or the swaying stool; sheilds up holding
Tennets in drinking fists where dark laughs bark flat.
Fuck You walking nose in-the-air on haunches of solid gold…Fuck You solid routine
hide in rigid century fear metronomic.
Fuck You thought wonder locations in War night & all foundering aground under the
same hazy moon of the Hoon.
Fuck You real living Destruction & Destraction; alone on gravel busy buses pass lit &
dirty packed with evening wretches nameless in public travel.
Fuck You; Harbinger of low panic & Fuck phone texts - rude tech. shouts rumble the
floorboards of square drink nights.
Fuck You hip ecstasy nerds helpless by the tent ropes, pixel eyed delicate drugged needy
youth demolished under glo-tube canopy, brain-fagged.
And Fuck My Caboodle; drunken disaster of eyes in black coat…Fuck these cracked
streets rolling under rubber logo’d souls.
Fuck Malls; Massive brick bastards landed & contrived towers of no Babel, free speech
denied in Corporate highstreet cache; roof’d pushers now in from the rain.
Fuck You; traffic thick lines of dashboard plastic headaches & Real cigarettes honour
Fuck Fenchurch misery trains; left dry under brightlights twice counting 12 floors in
tower blocks; lemon Westenders sober in dull Saturday night glow.
And Fuck Strange Bosses; drove to hot daytime tear shouts from exhaustion & bland
stresses overpower my small mind like steel Rams of Apocalypse.
And Fuck Anywhere Towns that live in memory painted by time & light forever…
Fuck this Town of flat shadow floating in old blue marsh of weak-chested foam yoof
driving hot low hatches; dead children on the Swan road.
Fuck You Great People of flashing silver names alive forever, crippled tokens in fall…
And Fuck American pavement; sidewalk of Imperial Liberty grunts ‘dude’ & drives East
in dangerous God Right gory.
And Fuck Russia; huge impacted Power behind Stalin curtain of imported neon still
corrupt & killing Red Hammers wait in satellite corruption…
And Fuck Incisor Fluff from New Towels! filling drying mouth! eyelids flutter panic -
too close! tucked and rolled on soft…wont go! & then my screams…
Fuck Mephistopheles & dark children that climb backs on Edifice Night puking &
pissing my stumbling way home.
And Fuck smack, crack, misty opium running the veins of our monk statement overfun
pushed pushed pushed - 30s Berlin...
And Fuck You alarm clock bus & breakfast, trousers wearing thin & enormous dark
forces silence me - bunker down in a foul hole grateful for the pre-cast sun.
Fuck You broken ghouls withering on grey beds; plastic government Death paid for;
one day you did walk the shop streets with us.
And Fuck Art; Tate Fart - selfpat on the back brain in soft misery of death & the obvious
- I dont care whats in your wank-mind.
Fuck Tools that build Tools that build Machines to free Us - God Cobalt Made - to a new
cage of forgotten silicon death blades…
And Fuck bed & soft trousers; home of swollen belly & sullen dreams & spillages
damping these night sheets redder.
Fuck You Spectrum of Light that shows variety of hate clear on shades of face-traffic;
damaged pitted by New Industry winds & shark stolen cliffs.
And Fuck my smuggle-watch of lies; Time dying…Yowl! & Fuck blue flicker portals of
the street keyhole Damned.
Fuck You grey fading souls ticking over crossword last breaths; brains heated by sugar
soft bodies no one will hold again…
Fuck You dirt road I walked in salt air before man-hutch buildings moved into forgotten
wharf; blocking their own view & putting awards on signs.
Fuck the tip stink I threw possessions in; spreading myself/truth into the glamour of the
earth; dust to dust landfill to landfill….
And Fuck You noble elephants lazy tigers & monkeys with big eyes beaten & eaten in
Africas rich-poor bush stew.
Fuck midnight runners & booze hound smokers shaking glass & cigarettes in the stars
undertow fearing the morning/nothing & solid downcomes.
Fuck Universe massive empty Mocker of Coincidence; doting our silicone party with
Carbon Rain & atheist pain.
Fuck the Carbon Based Hive & treacherous balance of scale & running temperature;
reality for jelly box minds to Fuck in.
And Fuck New York Saigon & Chadwell Plug; concrete plinth of thuggery lurking west
of the small story where she wont/dont sing no more.
Fuck You Vampires Dragons Fairies who swap teeth for change at the gardens end &
night-fire caves ancient slumber & rain-dark sky mystery of electric cool.
Fuck human finger dirt smears on shiny brass & Fuck pale scrawn of youth in cheap
logo’d suits clean & crappy going for ten Benson & red Breezers.
Fuck You monkey’d beach I cannot enjoy & Fuck untidy partys turn into sneering
whisky rage of hot encompassing terror-horror.
Fuck bags pockets & Things that need transportin across sane mapp’d carnage; dragg’d
over on rail & foot; Fuck holding up my head…
Fuck You hungry Dog of Hindsight waiting on the porch eyes like sad bowls,
And Fuck spooky sweat that stains nicotine walls red from the opposition pillows of last
And Fuck confused chromosomes that twist sex beyond clothes & thick paint & sanguine
Fuck You last free Mustangs under the sky on wild Volvo legs unbroken…
And Fuck great Albatross; land-shy sky-myth of ages & ambiguous luck tie yourself
around lost/saved soul neck.
Fuck You icy wastes last unowned lands that tail & tip our flat globe; deaths adventure
where iron snaps like old twigs.
Fuck Sin City Belgium & Hitlers attack dogs barking Europes birth of Stalins handed
buffer of lost culture wretches…Career of Evil.
Fuck You Warrior Badges deckchair stripes of warfeild worn by shellshocked & boxes
half-full shoveled in the practical grief of Wars cold dawn.
And Fuck You Skynuts; fall for fun embracing dangers tin wings riding huge silk home.
Fuck You innocent kids on the sun verge marveling at rare Roz helloing pedaling in
pitch blue & wired into the Grid.
Fuck Gloss Models of Manufacture special only in this spectrum pushing falsehood on
fragile minds only dreaming.
Fuck You frozen eggs of demon seed playing Tiny Matter Master in morass of Matter
Scatter & shaved cutlery monkeys self-allergic.
Fuck You Tech. helping the self-diagnosing greedy not the starving dirty needy…
Fuck Oh Gradual Apocalypse coming in slices & Fuck our birth creation soft helpless
launched on a path darkening.
Fuck You God conversed with silent ideas written on the shaved planet tethered by
blacktop chimneys belching in Your blue skies.
Fuck Us on Earths tepid crust suicide bombing the corrugated rag streets Democracy
thrill new on thin oil-crust Land.
Fuck You Death-Calling Worms & Fuck Land Sharks that milk our way to the streetless
oblivion of later...
Fuck Headlines that Tell Us Tell Us Tell Us yesterdays hysteria in black & white that
dont stain our fingers with News Blood anymore.
Fuck this Days forenoon curve boredom of desperate life; trying ‘till anger from
disappointment is All.
Fuck hoping belching unthinking fat-growing skin-stretching soap-needing tech. fed uber
masses tele bypass.
Fuck Alfresco Tossers eating in Londons Gasoline midnight…
And Fuck You Reader gone all DVD in 21st century landfill…
And Fuck Me Fucking Pote in the late sunshine hungry for cool dark to waste me…