Saturday 31 March 2012

THE BALLAD OF ALCOMABOOZE PT 1


I drink drink
the glass political
I’m singing
the Alcohol electric
Seen as low
as piss in the snow
this delirious amber exit

I protest in
aged wooden bars
of hanging smoke-ghosts
where one pound
buys digital Rock
And later; water-raw
and livid of lobe
from the whisky-sticky
bottle top
With the broken seal
a necklace there
to play
and scratch my fingers
I shout out
madness primal
in brilliant drivel
lost in the
night highway
of a dozen stars
Freed from the angry
backbrain
yelling yelling
sane anguish
of hope
My liver is a river
the Rainbow Warrior
rides the
wash of 
tankers touching
my tramp hull
I suck on the glass,
the tin,
the small steel
from the
activist pocket
always ready,
that comforting sag

I will drink/drink
today
I will leave myself
lost
to trot about
I potter soppy
- like homeless
but happy
I abandon choices
to look people in the eye
in the late
hour Turk shops
of wot I need

Another to pour,
to spill –
and another
No thought no thought,
glorious,
no bother
I don’t care
if this takes
all the night away
I care
if this
doesn’t
take all the night away
I say this
drink/drink
that I fucking love
Will carry me
speaking silent liver words
In a great NO
of a thousand turned backs
I; no participation
in this world
but of grapes and
chemical hops
No hands steadier
in this night
than these deft heavy
cranes of thirst
I wave to use

And the world/Portugal burns
And the world/politic turns
And the world melts –
poles,
lies and cries
and sinks
retreating
before time and drinks
I buy it
bring it
borrow it
devour it
like bitches
saying goodbye
And I say
excellent
to the corkscrew
gripped in
clear-tasked paws
And I say
outstanding
to the
half-bottle appearing
unexpected
greeted like a
nightshift Wisdom King

I toast junkies
and the wailing masses
ignorant and spastic
spending their plastic
I pay part-time
babies my wages
For the glass-held
protest of ages
I say drink now
Drink in their faces
Drink the booze electric
with sly eyed witness
Pay with these damp notes
here by the ashtray

Giving up
is a powerful thing to do,
is waiting
Of great thirst
either way,
both frightening
commitment to
the black holes
of heavy peppered 

Or the eternal morning
where there are no smiles?
Give up drink/drink
Give up
to
drink/drink
The choices line your bars
and your Turk shops,
your mind,
clinking,
familiar and happy,
wet and burning

I have parachutes
to wash my teeth
from the great height
where I know the floor
I know the
water of yesterday
was the key to survive
I know the
desperate
cold cider rocks at five
And I know
the follow-ups
inevitable and
coming/coming

I say
pukka;another!
and pour it pour it pour it
I hold drink/drink
high
so you can’t ignore it
  
And all you
lame rulers
and temping conjurers
Will have to count
the masses
shouting/fighting
Cunted on the city streets
I say
the real danger
is the tuned minds
Drinking their time
right on the line
We are pale monks
burning
in the late streets
Walking
with the dozen stars
Witnesses
in another heaven
Watch all of us
after eleven
Waving our cupped fists
off my faced

Counting
my eggs in one basket
I pull the top
hissing
spitting
like a farting beer cobra
small metal head waking
I pop the top
bending
rending
the cobra open
for drinking
I screw the top
spinning
like a roundabout
and I am
swinging
I uncork
The Cork
popping
opening
the party and
fumigating
minds ill with living


Thursday 29 March 2012

XMAS TV

because
some Jurassic Park or other is always on

and
i mean
ALWAYS on

i flick channels undecided fidgeting and mad
and
accidentally
make a Jurassic mash-up;

Jurassic Lark 

i call it
but of course i dont pitch it to anyone

it’s all
jeeps with winches yellow as toys
trembling puddles in giant footprints and the foolish who

Won’t Stand Still

smart flimsy vehicles the wrong way up broken as toys
all the Jurassic icons
all the stuff
all the toys
on the ride

smashed lunchboxes in the giftshop



its Frankensteins Monster again 
if
you
not noticed

Wednesday 28 March 2012

XMAS DAY, LATE PM

walking the silent street
xmas day

i need clean air
need to look about out here

tiny lights and lamps and blue tvs are glowing
out 
from 
rich thick dark velvet curtains and gaps in drawn tight blinds

all generations celebrate waving their arms at glowing blue tvs/new Nintendo
     
and 
old angels shine again
pinned to black hedges 
and 
the 
few 
stars showing
are trivial
still shine above the low gloom

i am smoking a real cigarette
but 
it’s dampened by the dark/i dont enjoy it/not today

so fucking dark out here

dark like the end of the world/dark as the end of everything

dark
as the end


Tuesday 27 March 2012

BARELY A THOUGHT

like a pillow is soft
so am i

a dented stained smashed pillow

an empty sloth

left there

like a woman is soft
     so is my head

and my lazy need; woman of soft body and soft mind;
all lushed with half-shut eyes
     an empty bag all full but quiet

alert and correct
of all the right animal parts
to be
an
empty sloth with
me



Monday 26 March 2012

UNPOST



because of awful waking sleep
punctuated by dreams
of
graphic ultraviolence
where i attacked a 
NY club doorman 
with one of those pole things that hold red queueing rope
all Goodfellas style on opening night
and the wolfmen who stabbed in the side like jesus
leaving me wailing on the restaurant floor
and 
am now righteously hallucinatory
with headaches and glowing hands
big and light as zeppelins
hurrying to cook me vegatables
there
will
be 
no post
today


oh



Sunday 25 March 2012

LIVING ROOM TABLE

some god’s simple silent
rage of syrup is sliding 
over 
shining and glowing 
wet glass bricks

they rattle

and down it falls like amber Rickenbach

j. cash flips
his middle finger 
at me from the photo on the magazine

slim and spaced and beautiful 
mechanical limbic paws
grasp glass gently 
they
are 
drinking 
for me/i am only watching the
stylised scatter of smokes 
and pills and pots and pens
in here
on the table
i'd hide under when i was 4
there’s dirt smeared on the military shaving mirror
and my middle finger/well practised
is
flying 
the Bird
at only me and everything
in flat reflection

a filthy rolled up 20
rimmed in white and red 
is rolling around
because the window is wide open
for
the company
of hovering minibeasts
and
a wind is
gliding
in

tomorrow
i will spend it

for sure




Saturday 24 March 2012

SLEEPY PILL

sleeping 
the short death/dragging 
it out till i ache from still blood
and up
smoked 
a cigarette

from the shops 
in the early dark that fell like black dawn
i bought back 
plastic peppers 
to the silent winter roses

not rest/only a time-out achieved
but
too
sedated
to worry about anything

i sleep that short death 
again
and i made it last so long




Friday 23 March 2012

JAN 3RD

that dictated hysterical jag-
its forgotten already;
only Thursday now 
and 
already
it’s clean wiped away.

you’re all fickle,
fickle as 
young 
children,
your new toys already grown old from staring

and we’re all left 
in 
the 
dark now.
the dark that should be spring.
counting 
all the 
pounds 
left
to 
count.



Thursday 22 March 2012

WHERE TWO ROSES NOD

rains falling now
everywhere 
like someone's letting it all go at once

i feel the natural health SWELLING out there
its
FIERCE
in the wet air

we’re all only monkeys/gospel monkeys/holding cutlery
YELLING
in this heavy xmas rain

we're clutching our keys tightly in our paws

we're gathering where 2 roses nod
to talk around a fire
and 
later/alone
am 
coming back
to pick them for no one



Wednesday 21 March 2012

LEONARD COHEN

 
i am 
guided by the holy water on the mantle
i am
guided by the griffin on the back step

protests and graffiti
etc
only record/expose the
HORROR
walking relentless while we're working

and the light and the hope
hide
only glowing in gypsy painted corners

thank you l cohen
for your dark light of songs







Tuesday 20 March 2012

ALIEN LAND

this land of block colours 
is strange
my belly is empty like 
a survivor
yellow faces hover over the 
green felt
they nod and i feel no need 
for fear
other survivors have been caught behind clear walls 
that move
some talk into their hands like it 
helps them
i am smiling at the yellow faces
wondering
what
they
have
for food around here





Monday 19 March 2012

XMAS ADS

 
all the ads right now
are filled with
the young
and calm
and happy people
who work together
in teams
in bright colours
all clean

Achieving Goals Together

all in the brilliant sunshine
of smiling cities
and idyllic fields

but i know its all BULLSHIT
really
its
dog eat dog
in
the 
Blade Runner rain

Sunday 18 March 2012

ACCORDING TO XMAS TV

dinosaurs
i understand from xmas tv
can track and dig
and
Jeff Goldblum runs away from them
like Cary Grant in North by Northwest
all
loose
arms
and worry

dinosaurs
i understand from xmas tv
always pause to growl and to breath
posing
for the camera
before the attempted kill

this is their downfall
as Jeff Goldblum uses this time to run away
from
them
like Cary Grant in North by Northwest