MOVIE MASH 4

 

KITCHEN POP, A PILL PACK POP

 

CREATION RETREAT, A PILL PACK POP

 

SHINY HANDLE OF PRE-PLASTIC RESIN

'Man eats meat, and he grows fur.' 

Vasily Grossman



i fall open
like a book
at its well read 

& favourite pages

or i try to . . .

but everything flows 

& i give myself up

to the noise & the not

to the forever & the never

or i try to . . .

& zen nihilism reaches into the drawer

for a hand-me-down no-name kitchen knife

with a shiny handle of pre-plastic resin

&

slices my good ham thin

in a porterhouse dream

or it tries to . . .

DISARRAY THAT WAS PERFECT

& 

the faces
all gone
that hover there / loom there

like over my shoulder

& still i hear their voices . . .

& so many times we were high 

around a kitchen table

in a disarray  

that was perfect

~

well that is all 

just memories & stuff 

some regular look-back lemonade

a busy fizz

of fond sentiment

always fresh like just opened

~

picture emi cassette tapes 

b a l a n c e d 

on red stripe ring-pull cans

cornershop dinners in a skin-up mess

& sun blims hazy slow glow 

off the drinking glasses

at the end of afternoons

as long long long

as they then were

FALSE SPRING RAIN, A PILL PACK POP

 

WIKIHOW, A PILL PACK POP

 

ROUGH & FUMBLE TETRA PAK TEAR

 

milkfloats
homey rattle
gone now

that dawn 

clink & dink

now a silent 

plastic twist

in the light 

of a fridge

~

& on frosty school mornings

theyd emerge

out the fog

like a friend

by the tree there

on the corner

that later

was almost home

RED BERRIES LIKE GLACÉ CHERRIES

& the 

great dark 

brooding bruise

of overcast sky

made the 

rain slick

tree trunks 

chocolate

& the lawn 

a garish 

green limeade

red berries like glacé cherries

rudely trumped the fir trees reach

YING YANG GOTTERDAMMERUNG, PLEASE DISCUSS

good poems
&
bad movies

are the ying & yang
gotterdammerung

of the west

like the sunflower

who looks its own way
& 

the machine made beef

please discuss

ask if you need more paper

hands up for the bogs

MEAT DOWNLOAD

 

jagged & drunk

we had fondue
on the balcony

& watched 

a hundred trains 

roll into waterloo

in an autumn 

that was winter 

too soon

~

& later 

stretched out 

on the living room rug

i watched 

upside-down 

out of the window

at the  h - y - p - h - e - n  flow
of planes 

into heathrow

counting my hangover 

  d

  o

  w

  n

STACKING THE FIREWOOD

& 

sitting upright
in some kind of meditation kip
i plan ahead

plan to stack
the firewood
by the apple tree

& i do

& so it goes

orange leaves abundant

on the dusk lawns trippy green

AUDIO POPS FILE 2

 

KETTLES SONG

 

i bully myself
out of bed

my body feels

made of sticks

i force it

to the kettle

& listen 

to the kettles song

low sun touching the armistice

of the night sides dusk & dust

TRUE CRIME 4, ICELAND

 

FROM THOSE HOSPITAL MORNINGS

hes tall & thin
or looks tall because hes thin

& his neck is made of hollows
a deep shadow round his apple
from the 

phone stores 

heaven glare

in the shopping malls
level one coffee array

~

he is the colour of antiques
& his eyes are wet stones
& i see the misfires under his skin

i dont know him
but i know the look

from those hospital mornings
& the goodbye souls
on pyjama parade

& ending there

JACKET BYE & BIO

 

without ceremony
my old leather jacket

was retired one autumn

the heft of bottles
had really stretched 

the pockets right out

&

its tortured lining

was in sad disarray 

( my uniform had softened now

  into sicknote rehab chic )

leathers still soft as cream tho

only rigid as a biscuit

round its cuff sleeve holes

oh the things it has seen

& the stories it could tell !

also - the zip is fine

DOMESTIC POPLING 4, A PILL PACK POP

 

MOVING WATER, A PILL PACK POP

OUTDOORS WITH THE BEES & FLEAS

 

i found
in the garden
a sarcastic rose

when i was 

only searching 

for magic

NIGHT IS STILL STILL STILL

the night is still still still
despite our degradations

dark mist dripping
from wing mirrors
& the red berry leafs

how difficult / how impossible
i have found so many things 

when so easy they should have been

DRAFTED TO EARTH SERVICE

&
tv show wikis
&
video game wikis
&
mushroom microbrands

hijack my honest internet research 

& anyway 

i was drafted 

to earth service

so none of this is on me

i needlecast with no fatline
too scared to look at my EEG

I SHOULD BE EMPTYING OUT

the

white noise lingers

like

a forgotten subscription

raging 

in the downtime

when 

i should be 

e m p t y i n g   o u t

~

its almost voices

its almost harmony

its a radio dial 

ghost-jimmied

to beige space static

its the 

homey hum of landline dial-tone

swollen 

with the noise of the world

faceless

anonymous

&

blue

OR THE CLOSEST I WANT TO

 

i reckon music

is

the
closest

i will get to god

or the closest i want to

it marks the world

arse to the light

&

flowers for the moon

COOKIE CUTTER EGO VEHICLE

i am old enough
movie-jaded enough

cynical & hungry enough

to overcome my initial dismissal

& appreciate the comedy sidekick

the hundredth time around

if the talent is sound

in the 

cookie cutter

ego vehicle

hollywood

sequel

landscape

CHINESE JADE

& with a cigarette holder
made of chipped chinese jade . . .

its morning again
&
the
grey dawn is birdless
over the typers
flat & empty beg

DEPENDS IF ITS MALNUTRITION, HYPERTHERMIA OR WONDERFUL LONGEVITY THAT GETS ME

on my deathbed 

will i regret
not worrying more 

about the gas bill ?

or will i 

be thankful 

that i wrote down -

'on my deathbed 

 will i regret 

 not worrying more 

 about the gas bill ?'

as

part

of

some

kind

of

effort

poem

thing