Scorch marks

For Angus Maclise  

The spider that lays waste to the ceiling

Discard the root and roof

The basis of oblivion

The loneliness of obsidian

Numbered response numbness

Restrict proverbs restrict language

Tighten it up

You are without no fear care

Worldliness not

Pursue some

 New ends

A jumble

Sale rest home trance

Words Dance

Brace yourself brace all selves

Hurricanes winds blown together

Moth light squadrons

Looking to bounce out of the hearth

Culture hustler’s crowds

Networker’s / connectors

The war machine

 Response mode

All that stuff crammed into empty storage

Wet rain glistens now the way was blocked

in the empty air a friends voice

The cell

A corridor hurling heavy chairs around at dawn

Heavy brutal Starbucks chairs

Surreal adverts and adversaries

Life in the camp

Multi-screen multi format

Man gets moon dawned

A tragic accident

Stand up if you’re having an intense business discussion in a public

Place it helps with diction / status

Stay tucked in

Streams / varietals

Be epic   

Tan shoed house exist!!!!

Eject the demented emperor

Send him into brown field exile

Open the owls’ eyes manually

Reboot the ghost

Notebooks of

Unreadable hieroglyphs

Metastasis / dreamtime / whirlpool

A collective madness driven by the Other

Snatches of dialogue fragments of pain

Pull them out slowly

Peace by piece

Violently gesticulating under a full yellow moon

Fashion an empire out of nothing

Doing what’s right

Spearheading some interest especially in

A : John Coltrane

B: TS Eliot

C: Cheap days out for the kids

Parents (fill in blank)

An Enlightened One (Yes/No)

Or just positioned in the centre of a fantasy where the central conceit

In fact the only real concept is the money

Global Terror?

Ecological Peril?

A Hair Cut?

The most garish city centre the most vulgarly spectacular spectacle

The Warning

Back then when I hadn’t been anywhere

Standing in a deserted bus shelter in north Essex

The rain and darkness lashing all around

Don’t get on with my parents the house is so small

Me and a brother and a sister

We hustle for friendships warm places cupboards of snacks

We have to entertain be endearing otherwise where we going to go?

So it’s raining and dark in my memory, the searing sonic of cars driving in the rain is the

Background, in the foreground is a cassette tape of This Is Strictly Rhythm Volume 1

Playing on my personal stereo or Walkman as they were known

Now this was escapism, the sound of New York so exotic this music sounded like

It came from outer space, it was smooth hypnotic and sophisticated

Everything about it was incongruous to my surroundings and yet it made so much sense.

That guys voice on the intro to Logics ‘The Warning’ rang so deep I’ll never forget it still sends chills down my spine today over twenty years later

‘Phase three

The judgement

If it were to fall upon you today, which flower would you be

The red rose or the black?

This is the warning’

https://youtu.be/VSKpj_pAb6E

Always so much to do to be done

Pick lift carry

And each week is like hammering a nail through the hand

And every waft comes across

To cool the temper behind

Is waste lisping lurching

Old golden alchemical fleets

Ripe undone roads

Flowing through

Understanding

Physical pull of memory

Always had to keep up

Bash down doors

To stay in touch or else the trail just goes dead

She showed me real kindness

The first time

Never forget this

And their love is unconditional

Powerful over obstacles

Internal monologue never ending

Rag tag

Trip tarry

Then some always felt like an imposter

Circles spirals

How the song goes

When your cut limbless lies drawing

No growth just static crackle

Choral the church seems to glow now

What is real or unreal no longer relevant

All hands to the pump whatever that may mean

Keep it exotic  

A dumb shove a most exquisite specimen

Fat with babies hanging on the windy web

Tiger striped menace

Flick ash at it

Revere it

Run away from it

Nothing can control nature except nature

Nothing can bring cells together

Like man we had some fun along the way

Some real laughs

I know who you don’t know

Who you know don’t I who knows

now know

Are you who not who you are

Knot the daylight

Wrap it up shred

Your old form

Take a stick to it

Intrigued dice men

Tumble occasion

Break stop

Trying becomes the thing

Enough to go on for a million years

An eternity of data

--------------------------------------

It’s no coincidence that we ended up in this hell hole. You sank us when you stunk it out with bilious thoughts like that. Taking up so much room and more, yes that’s when things’ began to slide. You understand now that I could ask you to leave, I would be well within my rights to begin a legal process against this scent this ripening gloom.

Of course inspiration takes many forms even it can come disguised as perhaps a blasphemer or a Trojan horse or something wholly undesirable not worth letting in at all. So then let’s push this piano off the cliff together and watch it explode on the rocks below strings and springs all over the place as they ricochet off the smooth ripe rocks. Now the fruit is falling it’s time to head back inside and pull the levers that activate the orchards path.

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The crumbling aesthetic

A master work of broken fragments

Clusters of drone

Attach them

To fibres

Bristle on membranes

Left to rot

Slowly dripping gruesome

To believe

Decrying life forms

Grow out of the rot

It’s not

Time to begin

Another thought

Becomes the next

Leaving behind a gas

Bomb exploded orange

 Couple beliefs with

Systems navigate pulsars

Geodesic North Star rider

And his hand

Clutched at the amethysts

Knowing instinct

Glitter glimmer

Translucent

-------------------------------------------------------

Homo Sapiens exist!!

That’s right news just in

We have found a race of ‘em

They were right under our under our noses all this time

Cool

Let’s get to work then

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‘We are adhering to life now with our last muscle – the heart’ *

The sound of a happy man making the music he loves. A perfect combination of rhythms and electronic melancholy, swooning synthesisers bleed over rain lashed streets this morning but I don’t care I have a song in my heart I will not be crushed.

Machine music to heal the permanently broken hearted

For now

 we are the slaves

the machines are the masters

Hammering encoded slave planet hierarchy

 pulsating
                   retro
                                   glancing 

Now Destroy Everything

then rebuild
this city this aquarium of rare beasts glows blue at night
thanks to god for the misfits
the bums
the glorious freaks
long may they outnumber the immaculate men with too large umbrellas that hog the pavement

(sidewalk if your Frank O)

He then began turning it out at a furious rate

“My magnum opus my exegesis its finally coming!”

A tree on a muscle buzzed the young bearded tattoo enthusiast

bodies throwing themselves into the dance each one looking for transcendence

writhing exotically to sustainable neo pagan metre a finely honed blend of strengths

the old ones sigh they young raise their hands

Hope in the heartless abyss

unfolding unfurling reinventing

searching for a new way to live

undertake prescribe exercise regime or face benefit cuts / social exclusions kids pulled out of school

enjoy benefits of a moral nature truths about statehood

CLING

*Nightwood, Djuna Barnes

The dark nights are returning

Swallows massing on trees on telegraph lines

There is something heart-warming in their collective endeavour

About to take flight

Despite the odds

A red faced root

Squirrel away at something to get

Through the end of the day

When your spent when its seems what now?

Cloud cover the stone tracks the pebbles then the dirt on them the microbes mud shit

Turn back outwardly inside imploded

Shudder awake brutal dreams make the body shake

Something dark and noxious patrols the liminal space

A thought commits gross misconduct running around the house at night inhabiting the dark corners or was it the cat

A blue green impure imp

Sits on the shoulder of a Technicolor devil

Wait

Now sprinkle thunder

Next add lightning far out at sea cracking the edge of a container ship on its way to China mainland

The critic sits in his bower of broken shells pulped leaves bristles perching

Tears of a sheet

Open on another day

With all the myriad joys and tragedies that unravel

Crashing metals collide cells divide

Destinies and coincidences chance meetings perhaps

The critic wails one eye twitches

Spare change/green parakeets against brown rusted leaves of this autumn now in full bloom

Perched on the park slope at dawn just a mat for a bed

To have full control of the sense that is the caveat

“Would you like to see my scones?”

A nuclear mistake that would be

Middle management print out frenzy

Bury yourself in a pointless job

Coordinating misery for the minimum wage

Play the game

Grown up children wander the street in a toxic haze

All the joy sucked out

The neglected child / the miserable adult

Cannot make connections the ones that need to be made

So that this leads to that leads to this and so on

The implications of which / rage / indignation / waste / fury

That sideways glance