Thursday, 28 March 2013

LETHARGY AND WIRE



arrives at 9 AM/doesn’t even say hello

powerful urge to shop online
lengthy
wishlists
don’t cut no mustard/i crave PRODUCT
packaged in postal brown
to fall
thru
the
door

and i want one of them massive bags of crisps
to munch thru like a machine
i'll
feel bad and over salted 
lobes 
clogged with carb

tiny white pill holds black at bay
but
smiles
are forced and from habit and coffee

i relax into them with effort and decaff and herb

but
the
fog
is heavy/rolls in on the sound of horns

not touching any bottles i write small poems
in
the
lean times about
almost 
nothing 
at 
all


Wednesday, 27 March 2013

SELF PORTRAIT 2


HAND OR ELEPHANT?  HAND!  AT 6.15

POETRY




poetry is a blind sport
exposing big truths
behind 
the sneeze-stain tile and the silver fish corners

you
were only writing mundane day honesty
about 
the good sandwiches
and 
heavy 
toilet 
visits

just a record of the day to keep the box sane

when 
you realise joy is in the maintenance
and the rush
and the urgency
fade
and you are filled up with simple MOMENT







Tuesday, 26 March 2013

OTHER PEOPLES PROBLEMS



used to be
if a troubled meatbag
conered me
with
real and ordinary problems 
i’d 
feel
doors slam and walls harden
and 
a cold freeze spread deep inside

if i knew ONE thing was wrong
then EVERYTHING was wrong
and
my small helplessness was frightening

i’d avoid this
buried in a beautiful endless stream of golden scotch
with ice or not
with coke or ginger ale or not

mainly not

from
the
bottle
or from nice glasses i'd hold up to dim lamps toasting ME

alone
in
a silence i’d think was safety



Monday, 25 March 2013

SELF POTRAIT


THIS LITTLE PIGGY
MADE HIGH-RISK SHORT-TERM INVESTMENTS
THIS LITTLE PIGGY
SUPPORTS EUGENICS
THIS LITTLE PIGGY
CHARGED THE TAX PAYER FOR HIS SWAN MOAT
THIS LITTLE PIGGY
LEARNT TO FLY A BOMB PLANE
THIS LITTLE PIGGY
HACKED A FOOTBALLERS PHONE
AND THIS LITTLE PIGGY
WENT MEH MEH MEH ALL THE WAY TO EURODISNEY

PEACE SYLLABLES


the hard and sharp spike syllables
of
the World Panic anxiety
that
come and whirl you bad
in the existential morning shower 
and its hot and hostile fog
clog
the
mind
with doubts and fears before sunrise
and
you
log them and file them 
compulsive

can be

sent to exile
only visited
for
cool and objective retrospective inspection
at will
with the safety of balanced pills
honesty and information

and replaced


after all the brave cold steps back from the precipice
where
you'd
ring
your
own heart out like a dish rag
and
the soul was a mirage of a sugar rush
and
happiness
a
sickness spread by grin-fools in the sun and on tv

with the cave warmth
of
small
blubs and coughs of nice and yes and yum
in
the
soft arms of satin and silk and peace
all rich with the smell
of
fruit

and not being able to recite 
all the dangerous passages in the holy books
or remember
all the job titles in Rumsfeld's or McNamara's career
seems
all
fine

and good



Saturday, 23 March 2013

SAT IN A WHEELCHAIR



in a hospital storeroom
in some kind of subdued resigned strop
supervising
a
colleague
who’s
weak/thin/immature/lame/a fucker/some malnourished Romulan
all
i
can
think
of is
beating him to a silent toothless bloody pulp
with an oxygen manifold
or
whatever
this is i’m clutching in my sweating palm
that’s got nice weight and heft and mass and corners and grip
and
the
strange screaming presence of my own mind
some alien projection . . .
i
frown
like Atlas before the shrug



Thursday, 21 March 2013

SMILE



i smile at catty's wise Batman face
and
think
whats he thinking in there?

i smile at the sandwich
bubbling cheese
in the maker

looks like a pic off a menu

i smile

tonight 
its enough



CAT POWER

SEVEN PM CATTY POWER

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

FRIDGE JESUS

TWENTY TO SIX PM, JESUS THINK 'FISH' ON THE FRIDGE

DEATH OF AN ARCHITECT



their meat shines pale-healthy and red
   all
   juicy 
   and
   real
   and
anticipation-tense 
in 
the burn and glow from the fire

gone clothes are nothing on the floor 

there is
more 
in 
the room 
than two carbon-water processors
working protein into energy

-

the rabbit lays dead in the lane
   all
   Watership Down
   red
   cherry
   blood
fills a long still ear

more missing from him than air






Tuesday, 19 March 2013

SPRING


AFTER SNOW SPRING STRUGGLE, 4 PM

NHS HAIKU x 2



chief exec panics
forces early discharges
to nurses disgust


beds in the store rooms!
overladen NHS
waits for calmer spring




Monday, 18 March 2013

FOOD SANDWICH

A FOOD SANDWICH, SATURDAY

HEADLINES


wed 7 AM
grab yesterdays paper
off the coffee table
outside the dispensing pharmacy window
and
turn
the
yelling pages
while the kettles bubbles and then clicks
and
subsides into a neat spray of steam

footballers wages 
and MPs soft prisons
and proposals to adopt insurance policies into the NHS


click
and fume
into a neat spray of steam

i see the bad and the wrong and the mistakes and the bullshit
clear as mediterranean summer mornings -
the
reward for haircuts
the
ignorance of dim quick fixes
the
bar for heroes and role models is skewed in cracked mirrors
and
slides
dangerously low

i bin it
drink my tea
no milk
no sugar



Sunday, 17 March 2013

GHOST OF ELVIS


GHOST OF ELVIS IN FRONT OF SHELVES, SUNDAY 11.30 AM

SMOKE IN PHOTOGRAPHS/DREAMS OF FIGHTS




i'm always smoking in photographs

always in the same drinking shirt
the
sort
of
shirt
Bubbles would wear

and 
always they're taken awkwardly 
under the horse hair blanket of cloud
i look 
this way and that
burning chicken in the green flames of old spices and fat

i only drink 
now 
in lurid dreams
always shooting shiny glasses quickly 
wearing an exhilarated accelerator smile 

until

i remember i’m supposed to sober 
and everything stops - for laughter!
and
its all ok and good and fine 
in the sprawling wood bar celebrations where the light comes in golden and low/always a late summer afternoon

its like a gang
i'm like a king
we are all a victory army
in the unconscious gig night
where
flashbulbs freeze the smoke in newspapers
and 
all the songs are old and known and classic

and 
its in the unconscious gig night that tears come
a gentle salty tide
weirdly
neutral in the dream arena/prelude to violence . . .

thats
over
quickly - i am unwon and not me
in the shiny black and crumbled stone
of
a
cab rank - still dreaming/playing cabbie roulette
always 
giving the right address home

i only cry in photographs snapped in the dirty dawn
when the red ropes 
are all back 
in the broom cupboards
and 
the 
bouncers
count knuckle scrapes in the 6 AM greasy spoon


Saturday, 16 March 2013

CRIME LORD


CRIME LORD, 10 AM














JOAN JETT


saw Joan Jett
on the Central Line

she is still 20

bored her mouth shrugs at me
and 
her big calf eyes roll/don't know where to go
looking 
inside

her small shoulders sag late night deflated 
and
her big hands are squeezed safely between her jeans

shares ipod earphones 
with a man who's a nothing - any man at all

he smiles 
and nudges her 
and pokes out his tounge
he taps to another track 
nods to the beats
oblivious 

she becomes a shade sadder

and
her feet
point inwards
like a little girls






Friday, 15 March 2013

CAT AND MOUSE


CAT AND MOUSE,  6PM

SOMETHING



need a Something

made of brilliant light and glass
a
free
tangle
of laughter and lace

need to elope with the dawn

but LITERALLY of course
not otherwise

i need a light for the darkness to
end
this
cold-black fever
and cast the shadows the other way

i've seen it in FILMS
where
i
am
the 
leading man








Thursday, 14 March 2013

PREP


PREPARATION, 6PM

SUPERMARKET



middle aged men in no-brand wife-hemmed denim
and xmas present jumpers
prod
racks of neat meat responsibly
and
match
them
to the mature scrawl 
on the paper 
in their car key hands

old men 
wait silent and still and obdient
for
the
bent tiny-bird old ladies in stretched cardies
fussing
over
the small print on the grandkids treats
their only words weak jokes and bland banter

teenager 
chunky in black and chains and alien hair
is sheepish
i feel
he
feels
he is too large
his mum talks to identical friends - hes away and lost
nothing
to 
contribute

young manager 
phone on his belt and shoes that point his way
and
pockets full with long paper
worries
checkout girls with red talons or textured gloves
and smeared yellow hair

its like bosch in here 
i collect coffee/check the reductions in poor mans corner

and
leave
this place




Wednesday, 13 March 2013

WOBBLY JOHN RIP



working nights 199whatever/it was dark
we all got morning drunk
in 
service station car parks with tiny dancing birds
and we all laughed at wobbly john

he
couldn’t keep still
on the move/shuffling/shaking/gibbering
and
making
Bad Jokes All The Time

he was temping/passing the time
earning easy cash for christmas-pressies for his kids he'd say
'thats
all
i want'

it
never
occurred
to
any
of
us
laughing and thieving and toking winter nights away
till toast and fry ups and Three Guns whisky after dawn
in the empty Bell car park till opnening
that
there
was something wrong with him

he died/he had a disease/it made him shake
and
when
the news
reached us/saner and slightly sober in the new year
his
Bad Jokes All The Time
made
all
the
sense in the world


Tuesday, 12 March 2013

BLOGGING


BLOGGING W/CAT 5PM

INTENTION


thinking
about thinking about thoughts

and
then thinking about that

AAAAAH!

draw a hard line between thoughts and the self
and 
then what are we then?  sane mad on a sofa . . .

sofa 
SOFA 
SOFA!?

. . . some blotchy meat bag blowing in a shit storm
an accidental organ
out of the loop
on the edge of cosmos

I DRIFT AWAY i cry/cant move my hooves NOTHINGS A THING

DEPERSONALISATION? he said/jumper is old skin OR A SHAMANIC STATE? 

so really
i decide
snow outside the window and hatchbacks rolling past
its
ok
if
you
do it on purpose








Monday, 11 March 2013

PARADISE SEMANTICS


we
paint 
our gifted paradise a grim and soiled grey
chasing
our
created abstractions

IF

you believe in the social constructs
that 
blur
our animal teeth and righteous hunger
and
subscribe to the semantics of innnerspace







Sunday, 10 March 2013

MUSH


brain is mush
fried up hash
a
collapsed
aftermath
of
a lifetime of hard reasons
that fell 
in the afternoon as thin march snow

now 
i am almost blind
but
for a small shouldered silhouette thats indelible
whenever
i
blink
the complex blueprint of WORLD away   

there's new knowledge 
and a burst of ideas 
and twisted ammunition
to
hastily
jot 
but my hand is a jelly baby and words are squashed spiders

chaotic un-language 
of black legs 
settling 
in goo

i know REASON and REALITY live in hot blood
and 
its better-than-normality now that aches red and blue 
deep inside muscles - still
i
am
a fuzz
a blur
a tired buzz
tired and crashed on the mat under a new high bar






Friday, 8 March 2013

MOVING ON


well its time to make friends
with
the
memories
that stab nameless nostalgia into my guts

they're 
gently drawn in sepia squares
or
drenched in old colours 
with
sweet
round corners 

time to play those avoided songs 
and lift them from out their cold street bottle shops
and
hot
afternoons
from
long ago

its not them that are are sad

it
was
me


Thursday, 7 March 2013

HURTLE MIND


stand in the grey fingers of rain
outside
the 
clinic by St Mary's

i had nothing to say 
sat in the corner room
smelled of must and rust and damp
and
the
cushion on the chair
had gone WHUMMF softly and gave no support

i
searched
my blank files

i opened up slowly/a book with a bad start
a rushed second chapter 
of fits and starts
backtracks and dead-ends

stand outside in the fairy rain thats soft and clings and seeps
and
my minds like going online after MONTHS
and
getting a ton of updates pile on top of each other

its HURTLING with things i should have told the nice man
who
slumped and sagged and relaxed the more notes he took dawn
like
he
had
no muscles at all

so
i make notes too
on paper blotching with drops -
missing
buses


Wednesday, 6 March 2013

DELICATE ENOUGH


i am delicate enough

like a white ice flake 
that hangs on spiders thread 
after hes gone
just before 
it shines and shrinks dripping in the days slow nudge
or
a
small child in that shock after a fall
face all open
deciding
laying rocking like a turtle

delicate enough
to breath heavy as a horror show at nothing
and it sounds like someone else 
piped in in THX
and
echoes into the deep ringing and tunnel vision
of 
Breakdown

delicate enough to pretend 
you're all
gypsy princess's
thatched and oiled
and
common exotic
out of time and timeless with floral dresses and bangles
and
knives
stolen to use at night

and delicate enough to see the sun as we used to
and
tie
its image
around
a
strangers head for hope and health
in the fear of the next life
either
way
it
goes





Tuesday, 5 March 2013

NHS HAIKU



the bloody surgeon
yells loudly at my mean boss
happy days, suns out




Monday, 4 March 2013

WALKING TO THE CAFE


the sky is like englands beer
no 
surprises in the glass and poured everywhere

a grey wave of dirty cotton
thrown above to horizon black trees
and
flat
industry roofs

scooped shallow holes
glow weak white light
and 
it 
all slides sideways slowly

drifting - the world!

i become comfortably dizzy

and 
the air is still like those childhood sunday afternoons
when
you
wonder
about it all
alone
on
a
street corner leaning on railings
shiny
from time and a million hands
counting 
the 
seconds 
out
on a casio watch