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

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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

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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