Tuesday, 29 September 2015

WE ARE FLASHY PACKAGING



who hasnt had enough
of 
being 
shipped out 
too early 
unfinished and rushed
in
these
same
faulty machines
with 
their 
dripping ports
and
undependable sensors ?

 from smith-nephew.com

Monday, 28 September 2015

POP POPS



1. AIRWAVE OF FM OPIUM

uselessly i am in a cafe

radios
on
like
anywhere 

its
soft bleats 
canned icing
on
the
day turd

too early for anything and summers over 

 from thehungryhousewife.com

 

2. GO IN ON YOUR NEW BIKE, LIKE THAT WILL HELP ANYTHING

theres wet cheeks
on
school kids
dressed in sober adult black
and
ushered by force / relief / love
back
into
the
school machine

 from medicaldaily.com



3. ONLY ME HERE, HOW IS THE CHEF SO BUSY ?

useless in a cafe
i
stare
at
sausage pastries
and
a
full tupperware of eggs 

its all
naked

soft
somehow disgusting 


from pinterest.com



4. EXPATS MISS BIRTHRIGHT DREK

tiny
englands corner
tries
out
an
autumn suns ballshine
for
size 

finds it weak / cold
and
fitting 
 
from rebloggy.com

Friday, 25 September 2015

1980s SCHOOL WAS





COLD ELECTRO

the electro from Soho and Basildon
is
cold as a Chiltern cave
and
speaks
to
my alienation
much more
than
the pop stars
poncing about
like
pompadour peacocks
on Top Of The Pops
on wednesday
after
The Muppet Show
from www.festivalsforall.com


I WAS GOOSE

at
school
everyones seen Top Gun
so
everyones an Iceman or a Maverick
but
because
am in a low pressure flat spin
and
i
watch
1950s allegorical westerns
on
BBC2 instead
apparently
that
makes me Goose
not
Gary Cooper
from www.squadronposters.com



SPAMMING TEFALS

everyone is slapping everyone else
on
the
forehead
then
shouting SPAM or TEFAL
or 
punching legs and arms
with
the
middle knuckle sticking out
then
shouting DEAD LEG or DEAD ARM
and
we
all
call each other FASCISTS
tho
no one
knows
what it means
from youtube.com



FRIGGING IN THE RIGGING

untouchable big kids
make
cudgels
in
woodwork
banging nails thru balsa wood
to
hit smaller kids with
all
the
way
home
reciting Beastie Boys lyrics
in their faces
like gospel

bruises and wounds
lied away
round the supper table
from thebyronicman.com



TRIO

everyone is obsessed
with
WHO COULD HAVE WHO
in a playground ruck
that
never
happens

we all work out odds like junior bookies

and everyone is obsessed
with
WHO GOT OFF WITH WHO
and
tho
no one
tells the truth
if
someone gets three fingers in
they
are allowed to sing
the
song
from
the Trio choc bar ad
from youtube.com



JIMMY HILL

when the school was set on fire
and
the library burned down
and
everything was stinking and brown
the
police came up to my art class
because
someone fingered my name
and
tho
i was drawing a man with his face on fire
it
wasn’t me who did it

it was a cocky arsehole
with a Jimmy Hill chin
who did it

he used to make supply teachers cry
during
the
union strikes

now
he
is
gone
from davesgreatadventures.com



ARE YOU CAS ?

and
all the in-kids
wear clothes
with tiny animals
over the left tit
and 
exotic Italian names
and
always
ask
poorer kids
ARE YOU CASUAL ? 
ARE YOU ?  
ARE YOU CAS ?

what do you say when everyone is CAS ?
with
Nike this
and
Fila that

Puma Top Winners
get you by at a distance
but
they’re
not 
Ivan Lendls
from  80scasualclassics.co.uk



BLUE PETERS CULTURAL IMPACT

Joey was the insult
i heard
all day everywhere
in all my schools
till
we
had
this one assembly
and
they said THREE OUT OF EVERY TEN OF YOU WILL DIE FROM AIDS
and
after
that
Homo
was
the insult
i heard
all day everywhere
in all my schools
 from colly.com


Thursday, 24 September 2015

WE ALL KNOW



the yellow circle
we all know
heats my face
with
a
heat
we all know
and
the wind that comes in and steals the heat
is
a
wind
we all know
and
the light
it
leaves
that
lights us
is
a
light
we all know


Everybody's Hive by Carlos Gershenson 2006

Wednesday, 23 September 2015

THE GLUMS OF NAVARONE



when the Silver Lining tarnishes
and
your tired hands can buff no more
call 
it 
Antique Bronze 
and
when your dreams turn into the Dark Fantasies
and
the
Cynical Alibi of Expiration Dates runs a Red Bath
call
it
all
Sunday Blues / call it all Weather / call everything SUCKERS
and
observe from your REAL belly-middle
your sealing wounds / your drying sweat
and
watch / wait / cling for
the
Existential Metaphorical Yellow Crayon
drawing itself into a hot circle
upstairs
in
your
minds stumbling struggling Shit Brain 
and
be 
happily useless / reason-free hopeful / anything and whatever
under
the
unexpecting unlined innocent queue
of
clouds



heroesandhellions.com

Tuesday, 22 September 2015

CORE



there was a CORE
a
fucktown CORE
of
booze rebellion / sneezing speed over the dry hash cracks
derranged and delusion demigods high on IQ isolation
playing
ancient
music
in Englands quaint 20C leftovers
and
out - the CORE went OUT
into 
the 
nights dark answers / asking brand new questions
and
broke things / climbed things / redifined things
as
ridiculous / hilarious / terrifying . . . never true
and 
bled real blood / bled metaphorical blood
in
the
face of the Nowhere and the Nothing
on
the 
flat-bottle streets of video shops and wind blown rizla
waiting
always
waiting
on 
the Bread Slipper Lane kerb stones
where the alleys of yesterday met
and
on
the empty rec ground cricket crease 
coughing blunts at the moon 
waiting
always
waiting
for
SOMETHING 
to 
happen


early jefferson airplane from mstrychowska.deviantart.com

Monday, 21 September 2015

CAFE BLUES




silent cottage 
with
small windows in the corners 
like a childs drawing 
almost
invisible
behind a mask of bursting green
is
old
as 
the 
peasants revolt
and
backs
away
from the mapped flat blacktop 
like
something proud
and afraid

it shames the cafes
plastic
table
covers - shining prints of food 
like
flat swimming headaches
and
i
sit there 
in a bubble chatter of radio
and
cooking crockery clatter
and
try to write something 
about the day
the world
and
i

 wat tyler country park from simplonpc.co.uk




Friday, 18 September 2015

BAD NEWS

from shapersofthe80s.com

time 
was
i would watch rolling news
boil the world
deep into nights dark weave
and
breakfast on distilled morning rags / Red Tops rising bloodshot
barking
with
false teeth / wet tongue / all Pavlov at the privatised dawn
and
i
would feel a hot rise
of wrong-glory 
of fear-justification
of pub-night-indignation
at
the
lethal playground shoves of Goblin Meat Puppets
swaying elections
on
money
whims

now i filter 
political weather / crisis entertainment 
thru
depleted uranium nerves -

it
weakens me and shames me and lowers us all
into 
pill boxes and padded bunkers
with
a
mandated two-car space
tagged onto our hutch-build GPSed
for
Amazon drone accuracy 
and
blinkered 
happiness
 
 from www.cnn.com



Wednesday, 16 September 2015

CHANGE, ELVIS AND WHATEVER

from en.wikipedia.org


So i'm reading an Updike. 
Its like a small town soap but with insight into the weird architecture of human relations / reactions, told with a poetry of description; he paints such a world of constant colour and wonder that i should not have mentioned soaps in the same sentence at all.
So in it theres this guy.  
Its the 1950s.  He sits down on his wifes hospital bed and watches a tv show after falling a coin into the slot.  The show has women talking of woes / tragedies and money is awarded depending on the crowds applause. 

And that could be tv now; something we'd think is new.

So i listened to a Hancocks Half Hour.  Always good.
Him and Sid are moaning.  
Theres all these Italian coffee shops moving in.  Things are changing.  Things arent the same.  That sort of moan.  This is the 1950s.

And this happens now;  Costa, Starbucks, Nero.  A glut of brown stink in the high street avenue.

So i found this local paper.  
Under a plant plot.  From 1983.  Folks are worried about new builds on the green belt.  A sheds been burgled.  All the tools taken.  Dorothy whatever is 101. 

Its the same news as now.

Population, now that changes.  Technology, now that changes.

So war monuments say 'so they shall not be forgotten' and they are not. 
They also say 'so history shall not be repeated'.  But it is.

And too, the Tory Goblins are back painting targets on the regulars Joes. Same as when i was a 70s kid and goths did glue in the subway under Sex Pistols graffiti. 

Goths.  
Goths prevail.  
And so does Punk.

Makes me think of Elvis.  Elvis thrashed it up with self taught chords.  In black eyeliner.  And later, in black leather.  It was the 1950s.

Obviously i have lost my thread - conclude whatever for yourselves.

 
from elvisblog.net

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

A BUZZ THAT TURNED TO BOOZE



1. BRIGHT FRAME BENCH HANDS

home town small town bright frame -
almost-men 
walk across 
blank flat field / they hung out there
in
school
year
weekends

walk ? no - march !

marching
with
beer purpose in blue college break sunshine
open minds hungry / buzzing

a buzz that turns to booze
and
never
back

now i sit out there
on a bench of twisted metal
with
hands
that
could be anybodys / but too - 
could 
only
be 
mine 




2.BRIGHT FRAME CEMETERY HANDS

big city big cool bright frame - 
i
jumped
off
the cheap coach early / THRILLED to get out THERE
and
buzzed on NOTHING

OUT !  i was so OUT !

looking for anything to look at
Trafalgar Square / late summer PM / sparks on my heels
fairy dust in heated air

a buzz that turned to booze
and
never
back

now i walk thru the cemetery trees
with
my
hands - My Hands 

with
my
own 
hands 


Monday, 14 September 2015

SOFT HISTORIES



by the 
shop-and-drive
the
orange brick
new build
stands box-fresh 
without history

time was
site was
a potholed coach park 
of
cement slabs and half fences / an after pub piss stop -
in 
the
medicine light of streetlamps 
we would stand / swaying / emptying 
leaning and small town delirious
behind the green portacabin office
patterned with rust 
like 
its 
camo

earlier in falling light
couples would have stood awkward in foursomes
clothes too pressed
gathered self consciously 
on this nowhere corner
to
go
to
london shows on garish coach upholstery
grateful
of
the
height and thin bus walls between them
and
wild wild
imagined
city
mayhem

now
its hutch flats / limited parking
hatchbacks clusterfuck on new blacktop
between
snow bright white lines
all of it somehow keen
to
age
and
darken 
with weather and time
and
to
hide / worn / used
in
the
folds unnoticed



Friday, 11 September 2015

'YOU GOT A WATCH ?' 'TIME BE TIME, MAN'



when the no-god
flops out 
his one
golden ball
like a hole of light 
in
the
naked thin blue above
all 
the
nagging needy guff stuff of anydays hologram agenda
pales
and
almost dies / its tugging clock fingers 
bleached away
under 
holiday beach laser glare

into
the laterbase
of
forevers tomorrows 


 piece of empty miniature beach with sun / www.123rf.com