FRAGPOP No1.2

the pressure wave

the walking meat

lay on thick 

is only a cock

in your ear

~

the postman cometh

with glossy photographs

of cooked food

& 

all the numbers

for the approximation

of the above

& he feeds my slot with them

& the hospital letters too

A GIL SCOTT HERON MONDAY

its
noon
one
two two two o clock

time to rest heavy

shift / run stop

gil scott heron

did not become

anyone

he did not mean to be

beer & unlined paper

~

monday
is 

all

carefully

counted

territorial pissings

& i lose myself
& i hide myself  

  

in fantasy
in horror

thru mind-eye & ear resonation

gil scott heron

is the closest 

voice of reason 

he has

& always feels like running

photo by micha richter from the vinylfactory

SKY, ANXIETY AND TELEPHONES

the sky is a grey i would call dishcloth
is calling the sky dishcloth fair ?

it is the SKY

the sky is blank canvas
the sky is lead  or leaden
the sky is an unmade movie
a child  also unmade
a clean sheet  dawn made the bed

there you go  better ?

anyway my anxiety finds a target
magnifies blemishes to the moon

who are you ?  it says
is this enough ?
what is enough ?
what are you doing  with life  today ?

it tells me i been mean to the sky

it laughs at my nascent plastic zen

~

the postman has nothing for me today
he is missing a front tooth  he always has a smile

anyway i am not dressed

i was interviewed to be a postie
they seemed unsure that i could get up early
they explained a posties bag gets lighter as the round goes on

it was weird  i didnt get the job 

theres nothing new for me to see out the window
number 4s new lantern is old hat now
number 2s detritus is static

always the red berry bush tho
full of brids
full of bees
spiders live deep inside

there is no one to look in and see me in the window

or there is

dog walkers
school runners
an anoraked active oldster with a purple plastic bag

no one looks in tho  i would  i do  if i am out

look in in the sweet spot  

early dusk
dark enough for living room lights
light enough out for curtains to be left wide

see the tvs on the chimney breast
blue light on faces

~

so my anxiety finds a target
a limpet on a forgotten carbunkle
act now  it says  or tomorrow is under threat

so today i am worried about battery leaks
its acid you know  alien blood
inside those little magic sealed tubes
inside those flat black slabs with a sticker on and gold teeth

i got a box of old mobile phones down there under those hardbacks  
theres memories of the streets in there

they got batteries

try explaining this tech abundance to an older generation
its upside down economics nan
i dont know what to do about that

the third world mined my superconductors with their hands
i dont know what to do about that either

i open this box
i take the batteries out the phones

i am worried about leaks you see

theres tobacco smoke words and old old plans behind the keypads
yesteryears anxiety on a circuit board

i go round the house taking the batteries out of everything
i put them in a freezer bag in a drawer in the back porch

i am worried about leaks you see

i leave the smoke alarm alone  duh
i leave the tv remote alone too  double duh
i leave them in the stereo remote too  mega duh

i even make it into the loft
dusty shapes of forgotten kipple loom in there

i can see outside thru bad masonry
i can see out the small window
useless and mysterious from the street i can see thru the bathroom extractor
see down to where we bath

i take the battery from an old camcorder
i ignore the tapes
fuck hell yes i ignore the tapes 

i sweat in the dry dust
anxiety has a lot to say

i know there is an old laptop up here
its got a skeletor sticker on it
its got a desert eagle sticker on it
i wrote a bad novel on it

i can picture it but i dont find it

and oh my god theres so much stuff up here !
i put that on the back burner with herculean effort

i sweat more in the dry dust

its like visiting my own back brain up here

~

anyway this box of mobile phones is memories of the streets

i hold one
a wap phone  remember wap phones ?

wap  wap  wap

a quick phone memory  more another time - 

it is the motorola i used when i had absinthe for lunch in hyde park
it was my birthday
we had no food

i remember office workers were coming out for lunch
they were getting their legs out for the sun

~

i remember how when mobiles were new or when i caught up and got one
i remember i would only use mine in a phone box  

ha

i would only use it in the rusty smell of old piss and fags
this made sense to me then
it was like it was some kind of progress protest

i would walk in the street with it ringing . . .

i remember there was that rich kid at college  
red soft top sport car  car phone  1989? 
twat we said twat 

that sentiment was universal then 

i remember my first glastonbury  1992/3?
i remember it was like a mad max barter town
i remember the beastie boys were on the friday night
i remember everyone who had a mobile ring there was RIDICULED  

that sentiment was universal then
  
i remember i left my blackberry at home once  20??
i went into town without it
i thought it would be fine 
it was bullshit  

just bullshit

you dont realise
you dont have the old network 
you dont have the old habits 

phone boxes now got the coin slot welded shut  
phone boxes assume you want to make an international call

just bullshit

~

i remember a burst of new phone boxes
it was like a rash  199?

i remember they appeared outside the macdonalds and seven-eleven
out where that girl bit that other girls ear off
trail of blood there for a week

i remember there was a whole paved square full of them
phone boxes  not ears  

they were all painted different colours  
they were all owned by different companies  
they were all different shapes and sizes
they came up out the high street blockpaving overnight  

some were internet phone boxes  

it was weird 
they all disappeared as quick as they came

it was some kind of deregulation ejaculation
no on else seems to remember this

anyway i done my bit to prevent battery leaks for now

~

loft . . . whispers anxiety 

from btphonecardcollection.co.uk

SPRING COCK

the spring air
holds
a
taste somehow
of
all
the
seasons
on
its
quiet
backdoor breath 
and
in
the
sounds of birds

still tho
the
world
is
a
cock in my ear
dry-fingering
any
tender
hole
in the funeral of monday morning

from dreamatico.com

LIKE A BATH TOWEL THAT WONT DRY

something happened

dont know what

maybe
a
dream
left
residue
in 
my 
ear 

or a wrong cog
has
found a place to turn ?

whatever

its a good-fit 
and
blots out 
    any
    lurking
    and
    disturbing
    absences

from www.argos.co.uk