OFFCUT POSEY No 10

the absolute morning of the workplace

the medieval rack of it -

its keys & cups 

& trucks & cogs
corralled just so

bright but dull too 

& loaded with overthought precision

only just this side of chaos

yes even the dust -

especially the dust 

~

its too much world
&
pooh sticks race
under the trouble bridge
in 

a 

pink floyd of the mind

2UP READY OR NOT

the child grows old

meadow magic gone

the old stick stubborn then fold

single use flowers come


~

you ceremony burn them

to an inoffensive mp3

was all glimmer then

your roof is dust for me

photo - Roofs / Rooves from the Dagenham Archive

DEEPFAKE FRANCHISE ?

this relentless flow
of shorted pops
thrown online

you see them ?
thank you if you read them

theyre relentless
until theyre not

& if the dust takes me
theyll be archived
in the silicone & sand

& a handful of paper writs

~

tho i 

maybe 

could

might 

should

franchise myself eternally

in 

a
manufactured
extrapolated
deepfake poem flow

TORMENTED RECALL

  all 

the moments gone

  like
fagbutts in the rain

dust in the sand

wails in space

  all 

the moments gone

  but 

for my tormented recall

  that bar 

up the backstairs - north london

the view there

arches of stone
  & 

the threat of dungeons & dragons

  zombie 

  zombie 

sang the song

  & 

in those blue days 

more whisky was still

a classic & workable 

in-practice solution

recall now 

stone sober 

mountain river 

crystal clear

blade runner from syfy.com

ODE TO A FLY

oh youre one 

inquisitive fly

what do you know
of black mirrors & acrylic paints ?

oh inquisitive fly

that shade is called Mars Black
if youre interested

learn fast 

inquisitive fly 

learn fast

for you shall be 

dead by dinner

& dust by dawn

from dreadcentral.com by stormbrush.com

THE DUST IS HONEST

got to go 

go leak out my ports
in the special room 

yes again

fascists hide in the pines

hide in the curriculums

we see you

yes again

~

soft machine maintenance

is endless

is clip & prune

is secrete & repeat

existence farts

the dust at least is honest

dry crying over our bones

from the guardian.co.uk

FM DUST

my heads an fm station
all the hundred hours

orphan baselines & exiled hooks

& i breath in fruitbowl orange 
& breath out the darkside greys

but 
the dark comes out as dust 

& it gets back in
gets back in my eyes

a phantom coda
riding destiny thermals

from dreamstime.com

REPORT FILING THESE DAYS

the
dust is filed
by
caretakers
now

curaters
forever
out
of
town

i can feel the sky
holding back
its greif
&
the earth
breath in
to gasp

& 
i accept
all the 
small gifts
that come

from ebay.com

GREY DISCO BALL

the 
dawn 
breaks 
itself

monday - still as dust

its a grey disco ball

dancings over
and the weekend dreams 
that seem gone

gestate desperate
between
the
clocks
base markers

from idiotphotographer.wordpress.com

DONT FORGET TO SEND ME A POSTCARD

i know you not got time for this

no one got enough time
to nail enough down

before the wind
comes in
for the veil

~

so i will just say this -

i smelt 
the roses
for you

theyre overrated

i told them 
they are
just a wonderful metaphor

but they said
its not their problem

~

now your turn -

go get shitfaced
in some awful
shopping mall bar
just for me

then hit the truck stops
looking for pinball
night breakfast
and the dust
of a sleepless night

stolen cigarettes
in the secrets
of your pockets

~

dont forget
to send me
a postcard

and
thanks 
for 
stopping by

from pinterest.com

NIGHTS MORNING SHADOW

who is you ?

who
in my lay-in dreams
knows me so well

as the binmen 
rattle and drag
our rinds away

who is you ?

who
i see in forests and malls
in Our Price
drifting on the social downwinds
of
the reimagined days 
of 
back then 
long ago 
and gone

who is you ?

cos when i wake 
your face
becomes 
that
of
eight different sexless strangers or more

and
then
the comedown daylight

blows
you all
away

like dust

from news.bbc.co.uk

DRY GLAND

adrenalin overdrive is missed -

hot hurtle-snaps and true power-pops
replaced
by
black coffee Word Salad
and
loaded Brain Dice / thrown into the Nowheredrive

AIM is the same 
ice insight or sludge commentary
of 
soft machine Kingpins / Wrongpins / Nopins -

file
reports
on
cluefree delusion / 3-score fumbles

prose
time
hoover
bagging relevant dust
into
sculpture

from photographyserved.com

FEST MEMS

  june atmosphere:
foliage stink heavy
is
nearly stormhead

  evoke:
festivals
bestivals
mostivals
and
gig eyes squinting at tinned rock
and
gig eyes vibrate and down shift
with
mixed pot vibes
  in
  neo-medieval batertown 

  geeks gurn on beats
in
litter - screw-tops / butts / shoes / casualties
and
dust

  dusk repaints it into danger
  over-sunned booze heads
  turn
pagan monochrome
round
campfires stolen smoke
  in 
  pop-up cities
  cash
  grab

 from dailymail.co.uk

EXCUSE FOR A CAT PICTURE

he pokes his head
out
between
cracked morning curtains

dust in his whiskers

he jumps over to the bed
with a sound
like a kids squeaky toy makes
when
you
press
its
belly

he flops sideways
on the sun warmed quilt
all
his
fur
is
dusty in the sunlight

cat i say
youre SO dusty
and
old 

TOO MUCH 3

too much

were the too many shadows cast too long

of the too many long cool drinks

in the too late soft hotel bars

where a quiet barman in a too tight tie

always said sir to my bleary smudge face

and

too many too bright dawn slides home

where 

too many birds sang too loud too many words

i

always

understood

all too much

so 

now

i

scribble my literal anus in too small hiccups

too tired to write anything too long

and

carefully

nurse

my

back brain and its dim fluke glow

catching its too dull diamond flashes 

on 

too yellow post-its 

that curl and collect too much fluff and ash and dust

their ideas fading slow in too little sun

waiting too long

for

me

from psds

LEVEL B

three of us
in
store room hospital level B
rain 
touching 
finger smeared panes and memories

ones a physiologist
calls a patient
on
the 
landline
bad readings on his thingummy
can you get in this afternoon?

ones an auditor
scans pacemaker barcodes
taps a silver netbook
mutters in welsh

me leaning back on a busted office chair
till
i
see
wonky pitted ceiling tiles
fiddle with my collar

and we all got balls
and we all got hard livers
and we all got mild perversions
and we all one day will die
and
this
room
too
will one day
be
only
dust

image; ingoldthoughts, wordpress