BLOG POST NUMBER 3333, BE ANIMAL

this is BLOG POST NUMBER 3333

this seems like a landmark
that needs an announcement
but its only numbers

seems a good point to suspend
the blog for the holidays
normal service will continue soon

hatchbacksonfire.blogspot.com

also listen to the
Alternate Stories & Fake Realities
Midwinter Monologues podcast

i am in it, innit

https://www.buzzsprout.com/411730?s=30
https://linktree/AlternateStories?s=03

~

BE ANIMAL

animals are naked 

they own themselves

we are meat runes to them

& thats ok -

we can still be friends

tho our cups 

are busted 

into logo dust

~

i fiddle with minutiae

in the mornings feint 

rome burning 

the best violins

THE RHYME OF THE ANCIENT MARINADE, AN OFF-CUT POP

well theres that 

& the laminated collage of eyes

he sees there 

  looking 

    looking

      LOOKING

where they said the tunnel & light should be

land ho ?

he wonders

anciently marinated

in

sea salt & grimwald 

SOULS ON WAX

recordings & headphones
take the afternoon away

gone musicians knew this

it why they put

their souls on wax

to ground me 

to lift me

with this the common miracle

with this the peoples magic

IN MY COLLAPSED BULK

 

i talk 
& gone relatives echo
in my tone & word choice
in my habit & repetition

i sit
in the tired armchair
& gone relatives reverb & sync
into my collapsed bulk

& the small scissors 

worrying at the hangnails
& the torn burs 

of my anxious 

devil fingers

well someone else used to do that too

BARTER TOWN ON ACID, A FESTIVAL POP

blasted faces 

& new morning eyes

search for bearings 

& a gist

in the humid bacon mist 

~

campfire smoke hangs

like battle vestige

over barter town on acid

robots in the rain

watching me piss

100 years ago

UNHAPPY WITH TROUSERS, AN OFF-CUT POEM

 

& all the children

their innocence hurts you 

                reminds you 

of when you were car badge height
     unhappy with trousers

     &
     they dont know 

     they just dont know

AN ANALOGY STRETCH, DREAM STEALER

to doggy paddle 

in baby riptides 

under a Munch oil sun

to tread water 

at the reefs end

below O Keefe clouds

to splash & thrash

in the harbour mouth  

apollos polaroid moon above

between the sinking & scuppering

  you 

     call 

         your

             sleep

~

& pushing the analogys stretch

   & its plastic elastic limit

      its the

m i d n i g h t  s a l v a g e  r i g h t s 

         that should concern you

TYPER IN THE WAY

ego was so epic

he had to put it out  

out there in the front yard

just to get a clean breath

& the rag & bone men

well they rang their hand bell

& they took it away

~

& Plastic Zen was born 

Id in the ice box

   music player on

   typer in the way

SANDINISTA CRASH COURSE AMEN

 

that preening peacock pop 

on the top-pops viddy tube

never spoke to me back then 

singing out their noses

singing like theyre bored

adverts for cocaine & yachts 

~

thank holy-be-fuck 

for the clash tapes

stickered & stacked  

in the woolworths bargain basket

sandinista - my musical crash course

amen

PREP THE GREEN SCREEN SCREAM

 

   the

   cat

his shadows 

are like almost cgi

& such hi-res is migraine alert

encrypted 

upload 

incoming 

prep the green screen scream

~

the kaleidoscope vice 

the icy panorama 

i can smell cabbage / weed / sulphur

theres a truth in migraine

revelation in the glitches

somewhere

yes

 

photo - i can see you seeing me

FIRE PITS CRACKED TUMBLE

when afternoon touches evening

four fox cubs play rough & fleet

on our lawn & chairs

& still as a post behind the fir trunk

one parent watches

blended in shadow & brown 

& as the dusk crowds the skys vignette 

she returns to bury 

the food our cat rejected

in
our
fire
pits
cracked tumble

& in the wild wild corner 

kept abandoned

in hope

for bees

ALL CHANNELS ALL NETS

back door diktat tsunami 

coffee-curtains morning-wide

NHS is stealth-sold emperors fast-fashion 

meat grinder
all channels
all nets

facts mangled in the truth grate

NI hatchbacks on fire
across the border-no-border sea

champagne pops on dead cherry hill

foam & fizz 

that could / should house the blanket damned

TELL IT TO THE DUST

 

tell it to the dust 

no - cross-examine the dust

& headline-shout any results

in identikit bulletin foam

all channels

all nets

drones drop-off my lab-coffee

on the undead plastic lawn

~

if the past is another country

like  

    they  

        say  

it makes us all exiles

like the moon is

from earthy green

SANDCASTLE DREAMS

sandcastle dreams
lose their edges
in
the
life wind & tide

wet bog now

of sewage taint moats

just like that - nature teaches no

ONLY WHITE SHIRTS HAVE RED BLOOD

 

horror film remake
is b-movie dust

pointless back then

it has a home now

context achieved thru time

& its divorce from hype

i ponder & wonder & stretch

i lift the veil - yes

into the minutia dungeon

& i pick at my feet there
far from poughkeepsie

again its only white shirts

that are red with blood

HE SENT A POSTCARD 1994

i keep on keeping on

sam andrew told me to

he sent a postcard
1994

then i had little on to keep

then i just rode the clock

& sams gone now

but still i say it all the time now

~

i keep on keeping on

storm drain child
now a real boy  

bursting with yesterdays

too late

& 

swollen with the future burn

too soon

but i have on to keep now

on to keep on keeping on