Time Gazing

concert noise 

cigarette amps

crushing pedals with steel toe riffs 

picking guitars 

that’s how you smoke it 

if this is the Noise they said would sweep me away

they said I’d drown under, 

be carried away by 

dreamy sleepy Vocalist

drifting in the 90s 

floating on VCR tapes and rusty groovy reels of graphic melodies, 

then I was born for this

yeah, nostalgia burning a hole in my lungs. 

Scribbled on the back of a public retirement home

[With a big Smile On My Knuckles, the bend of my arm, the valour of my struggles]

Let’s be friends through pricks and Gin
Let’s be mates through haze and paint thinners
Let’s hold hands for world peace while we, descend into the crushing waves of the horizon
Let’s wait on our lips and drink the tonic instead
Let’s figure out how to break down this insoluble high
Let’s be friends no matter how deep our lows bow
Like veins hiding between your toes
Dissolve…
What?
Dissolve…
Let’s not.

Disregard

A new loud pond…
A mermaid jumps out,
Boom! Atomic bomb.

Atomic sunlight-
A worm tweets quietly,
About the chaos. Destruction.

Clouds unfurl-
What she thought were faces,
Are trees ripped apart on a field.

Hold aloft the crown of thyn jovial Constipations

A Can of bathtub infusions
Salts the essence of my tears,
How they scrub me deeply, firstly
and undo me, only, in the second act of this unholy, theory,
Sullen, drowsy,

Take pity with a drink for a knock on my liver
sprouts a bloom in my urethra

A Tongue lashing from my lover,
in the mirror
Who stares when I close my eyes, only…
Only…
I am hungry for my one and only.
My Last breath. My empty eternity.

If you do not mind me, death sang, then I am lonely
But I do mind you, I began, ’tis living I abhor mostly

The Morning After Thrill

A plush field of grass floats on a cool cup of tea
A league of ghosts draped in white stare back at me
Marching on in after hard labour
I Sieve my deepest dreams, no sugar, no matter
The morning after
I said, I won’t give up on my bowel of crêpes, Brown Syrup and Golden butter

Puppet Maestro

Finger tips abandon nails disclosure
Hot pot pan shoes grow atop mouldy fan
Give dentures share gums we’ll be friends
Forever and ever a man waltzes with warts
On his hands, on his upper lip and lower hip
Sir, if you would so kindly stir, the can of worms
The can of primary numbers which I do not possess
Much like my bank account, or theirs
I don’t know
Finger tips abandon

Death Ideation: The Scary Part is Youth

Teeth, face, eyes. What torture.

Draw your sword and bury it in my gut.
I am in a pit not of my own digging; I wish to free myself, not to escape and walk on level ground with the rest of society but rather, to be buried in it.

Tears. Death. Blog. What emptiness.
Unplug me from it all.
I have lived in half, quarter measures,
I wish to switch off completely.
Not fight inevitability.

…Solemnity

Touch-Screen Faces

Ego-centric-manic-tri-logic
Group hugs without ME.
Yu cannot Spell Group HUGS with ME
Without ME Yu can
Cast a Spell Without, Upon, ME
Witches Brew and she says BRO even though…
I fashion a set of HO…-BAGS,
Heave-HO… BAGS,
anxiety Bags,
Hash-brown Bags,
Hush-Tags,
Harsh…

Ultra-HD digital Polarnoid
so paranoid
IT avoids; I Avoid You Avoid, Ovoid faces
With their Wide eyed employed asses

If you may be so kind as to step back over the edge while i live ponderously on treacle.

God Mode Sue

Driving down the road
Sue Van Wyk loses control,
Slow the car down
Accelerator Peanut butter (jam)
Jello, Electro.
Teen Boozers Skate Bored Over Rail Infested Parking Lot
Out of Control Out of my way.
Lost The Plot.
Skid thirteen-mark-five miles
swerving in-between and around cyber-jacked bodies.
Pause.

Imagine Spoken Word: #3

Disposition Fatalism
Beany knee caps
Bony tear drops
Compost composition
Shuffle snotty sniffles
Bring back Twinkles!
We Want The Sprinkles!
Summer shivers.
Drawn curtains.
Red