Wednesday, 24 May 2017

ORWELL WOULD BURST



'it is quite easy to appear modern
while in reality being the biggest damnfool ever born'

charles bukowski



our own personal electric eye 
is always on
always there
like a trainee at work is there

new  shiny  keen

a sponge for knowledge
for short cuts and tricks

and
after your job

~

i remember a different world
a world plugged in

and then unplugged for lightning
bedtime
and
caution

a world before phones

going to school

summer  new trousers hemmed  cut grass
the paws and nose of a friendly retriever
under the gate on the corner 

my first house key in my pocket

with
a
plastic
mouse

~

now brand new tech is here
its in there with our fluff and crumbs
shiny wrappers and heavy change
        
        and
        its

 c o n n e c t e d 
        
        to 

 e v e r y t h i n g 
        
        by 

 i n v i s i b l e 

       sci fi 
        
     in
          the
      air

thru walls and windows and cement
our shopping lists and reminders
our love texts and high scores

go into orbit

to
china peru

and venus

~

controlled magics
dark blackside

everyday miracles 
function creep

our invited stalker
our Hub and Control

as if by order
we keep it close by our boiled balls

~

looks forward and back
looks up  
films inside our pocket
snaps our feet

files our minutia detritus

not never no anymore
can we been
unseen

in 
any 
of
the 
dark corners

doing secrets with our body and minds




Image result for electric eye

from shwebook.com

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

I SNOB



         its
          easy
           isnt
             it 
   to sit in a burger pit
 in a weird mall morning 
       like limbos own waiting annex
     and 
 judge the flaccid clientele there
    in market tops and nowhere trousers  
       while eating 
     the same grease as them
             and
 me with no job to go to either
         only pad and a pen 
      to draw a line between
                  my self-induced 
             higher purpose
   of writing-slob delusion
      and their assumed 
              salted earth
     stone-clad grief hole

           well
            i
             cant
              help 
               but 
 imagine the uninspired misery
   and stubborn catechisms
 of modern povertys tv-dull minds
        stinking
         like 
     unseasoned hamburger 
  in their laminated 
    galley kitchen arena
        and 
 any pledge i make
   to look with kinder eyes
        into their potted grey rainbow
          may
           last
 14 seconds
         as 
        disgust and sadness
 gives empathy and charity 
     a good slop out
  in the dredged canals and prison troughs
           of 
          my
    feedback loop 
     ego jag
           brain pan


Image result for cheap horrible hamburger

pic from daveandjames.com

Monday, 22 May 2017

STREETSIDE GUMBO




    i am
streetside 

strolling under the skys boots

i see a hedge
i think thats green
see cement
think that used to be a hedge

and who are these people
out
in the naked day ?
i think shouldnt they be working 
and the streets my vacant river ?

theres old men in beige sepia
like dressed for the dirt of the grave
i am in shades of prison greys
a smudge of newsprint / a social comment
vague
and
changeable
about
it
all

theres an alley
i think wheres my alley ?
i got block paving
the rain runs from
and a lush triangle of yard

and the sky is like its a hole now
fallen open above me
unsafe like a danehole
and
worry now
that 
might grow wings

the ground is locked
all entrances disguised
with
root vegetable distractions
the daft unbearable light of flowers
and
immovable solid moods



Image result for daneholes

from yellowad.co.uk