Monday 18 May 2009

hi-noise

folks all mentioned in passing from preston, lancs to prestatyn.
all the fields and hills just pissed emselves laughing.

whats the grandmother saying?
she's saying a town of heathens-on-knees all praying.

the pixels and sluts turned their men into mush
while respect and restraint..and restraint had washed away like cheap paint.

so pull the pulse to your finger.
and bury your one good ear.

yes, i have heard of all of those too.
but what is the intended meaning of all those words that you use?

what is your prefered interpretation of the sound? come round
to mine, we will cancel each other out.

and take shameful pride
in commiting all our crimes
in 2/4 timing.

Sunday 10 May 2009

getting warmer...

i experienced that peculiar brand of shame that usually only comes with having a biblical name.
with nowhere hair nothing eyes deep sigh uneasy air
triple crowned son in his anglican gut wonders if the wandering is best left to others,

through himselves he weaves the mantra he can never be man, master cast , with plasterrrrrr
he carves it into table - 2 x 3 -

"when you first notice immortality is beginning to abandon thee".

she wrote - boy, you won't even live to a footnote.
he proclaimed,
my only aim is to leave a stain.

-----------

tame her with frantic early morning emails.
spell out 'i fucking love you' in chemtrails.
bathe in bravery.
become famous, for your defiant pathos.
arrange a transfer to speaker's corner
to argue the case of the both the latter, and the former.

and your days
everafter
will become
slightly softer
easier.
and warmer.
and warmer.

adn warmrer

typewriter

QWERTY. QWERTY. it is as good a start as any, QWERTY>

i don't know what the story is. where it starts,. where it ends.
i'd just returned from reading every book ever written and if the answer exists, well..
it chooses to remain hidden.

i've got my own word for everything.
from canal beds nicking poetry.
see me looking up perplexed - i'm the artist, but..my pukka pad is spotless

decades o' dust bouncing upwards --he thought his time had come and gone,
he was wrong
QWERTY!

and since you left the stage he's been
burning all he reads
out of respect,
he opens the W.I.P file of his au-to-bi-og-ra-phy
and does a findandreplace on every instance of your name.

commited his final soliloquy to tape.

smashed it and unravelled it.
and mailed it to the beckett estate.