HYPNAGOG MUSICS 1 & 2

1

the glass people
in the telephone hole
are timely saluting

an iridescent magpie
in the maudlin mist
of hospital hill


2

the tactile ache
of times balustrade
hurts like whimsy

well
beauty is an augmented riot
&

age a manicured dish rag

RIDING LIKE THAT

imagine
youre
a spider

& you spun your web 

  wide & taut & centered
in the reaching upsweep 

  of a red deers antlers

& riding like that
  with dew & mist
in the tumble-roll glens
  of galloway forest park

dinner waiting on the wind

& all the stars out at night

DREAMING WITH STEPHEN & JOHN

they flee from the city
with feet lit crimson
& headlights in their hands

& happy clouds will love you
& the storm clouds match your gloom

& the stark scaffold of nude timbers
where words dwell with their ink 

welcome you in quiet moderation

then spurned

with no why 

they chase you 

thru the mist

to the beach at the end of the world
& you lunge
at a loss
into the weak grey surf

& you land home
to the windows & the colour
& what 

you say 

in the 

stephen king & john carpenter 

was that ?

NOSTALGIA GLANDS

outside the unkillable bookies

diehard smokers

brace for judgement

& breath their b&h

into my memory portal

& manic nostalgia glands

~

matchboxes &

cubic cellophane

under the thin light

of a streetlight

& night smoke

in the mist of rain

THE GREYSCALE LEAVES, FRAG POPS

under the same sky
where warplanes fly
i walk the pale dawn

agog & grounded

kicking the greyscale leaves

~

its a terrible wonderful world
& we are safe we think
on the western islands
in our bells of mist

~

now the fire in my knees

is extinguished

by wading thru

the soup

in the hall

a trail like smudged pencil

i imagine as my wake

BEACH, A FRAG POP

over the orange aprons

happy dog footprints
&
the endless ellipsis
a walking stick left

the sun 

sees off

the dawn mist

& 

preps a function

for the liminal scene

ONE SMALL MUSHROOM FOR SUSTENANCE

he saw giants
crossing the valley
in a heavy mist

like all large things
they seemed
to move slowly

he had had
one small mushroom
for sustenance

but he didnt think it was that

cos his new friend

a little red fox
he saw them too

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

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

WE USED TO RHYME / RUBY ASHES AND THE WONDERMINDS

we lay like lushingtons

beneath rubys crown of splinters

& roses from summer slumber

turned her lips to frozen winters

the summer & its rain

combined her cool choices

& sang sweet sad disdain

on the earths breath & voices

despite the fire & the air

her body holds only water

we are landmass lost in mist

with autumns only daughter

the white peaks of winter

mock summers muggy troughs

one is in the others hand

promising spring & loss

in the day & the night

the wonderminds call it out

louder than the fifth angel

in the sunshine & the dark

~

theres burning & a glow

the fickle flicker of flame

theres two faces on fire

ruby ashes is her name

the only difference

between the love & the pain

is one is the other

& the other is the same

in the first taste & the last

bump bump hearts beat the same

mouths dry with nervous ashes

as our wonderminds go insane

the only difference

between her land & our sea

is our air & her water

are where each other should be

our handling of the meat

& our touching of the soul

will live forever together

if ruby ashes forgets her role

~

the only difference

between our love & our pain

is it hurts to be in love

& love loves to breed in pain

the last stab & first loss

bump bump hearts still pump the same

tears wet on rubys lashes

yes our wonderminds gone insane

ruby claims perfection

so we prove her perversion

& if we knew her soul & shoes

we would treat her with aversion

slowed & agitated

needing ruby to come to us

& with doubt but in memory

ruby comes without much fuss

she invades to surrender

red carpet of red ashes

a surprise night for our shoes

before bloody dawn crashes

~

close rubys heavy calm

is an eye away like anger

seems to be soothing our pain

but she moves like stranger

the wonderminds are looming

over ruby whos believing

in myxomatosis & acid rain

& the lives no ones leading

unaware of our power

smiles sabotage success

its mean & its tolerant

to dance with worry in our breast

so the blood & the sun

ruby ashes tastes them both

we stumble & fall on feet of brass

fathers undead son is the heavenly ghost

sounding to the depths of hell

rubys music rises to deaf gods

mans neat & portable ideas

are written with flame in the floods

~

ruby ashes has the keys

to both our life & our death

'i am the first & the last'

ruby ashes smiling said

ruby is the people

& her wisdom dies with her

upright man laughs in scorn

at the east wind blows inside her

ruby ashes gone now

& we take a long lone walk
down the empty corridor

time used to fill with talk

the skirting & a plug

mock wonderminds from below

for ruby has gone out now

leaving us stranger & low

pressure of modern life

& the fiction of abstention

is power to rubys teaching

then theres the bromide connection

~

& demon bromide comes

angry when we drink the coin

our laughter & our screaming

demon bromide binds into one

& if she takes our arm

her fingers sound the alarm

because ours is the danger

& ruby has bromide calm

& her hands & her hair

tangle up wonderminds in fear

for ruby is with bromide

& they know that we are here

& monsters from the sea

count their horns in disbelief

take bromide to the blue depths

leaving ruby free to speak

but wonderminds are insane
rubys lost the angles

& touches our naked brains instead

with cancer & sweet angels

photo Tech & Trees #4 from the Dagenham Archive

MISTY MORNING POPS

 

mist cushion sits 

on the fields 

slow dawn lap

soft morning beauty

around the hospital tower

~

swing low 

sweet chariots

says the old man

in his baggiest boxers

zero tasking 

on the lawn

from en.wikipedia.org

AS M I S T

everything is

just concepts

of themselves

in the distance

as 

m i s t 

B & B, A PILL PACK POP

    why be 
    so sudden

    or creep as mist

    when you can be

    just be
    & be

EXPLODING HEAD SYNDROME 2, A NEURAL BIOLOGY POP

the 
struggle gallerys
unrendered bots
are faux familiar

the 
bill collectors are on tap
flashing interzone badges
&
calling out my name


~


someone there
is reading some book to me
nobody real ever wrote

&
when i strain to hear
& 
focus to understand
it becomes 
redacted mist 

a wordless hymn
of fade out pastel

with a
bang & crash
industrial

from tvseriesfinale.com

NIGHT SHIFT POP

i 
was
a
white night shadow 
burning stubby blunts 
under the weak starshine

writing pops with a work pen
in a borrowed well stolen pad

waiting for the milk train
almost running just for me 

~

empty seats
trainers up
bag-warm beer

early mist 
a fantasy-scape
over
fishing lake mirrors
&
the
green green green
estuary
jungle

~

my reflection
is like
by an
impressionist
&
i brace for it
brace for dawns 
brotherhood to fade

hoping sleep will take me
before
noon
in the crashbang of day

from greenhutgalleries.me

MIRROR GLIMPSE MANIPULATION

these corner-eye
&
then wide-eye
mirror glimpses

theres no 
dorian gray
in there

my grandfathers gut & hairline
sneaked in
while 
i 
was 
endurance testing the sofa

keep on keeping on
why-not regardless 
& 
whatever deluded

mirror now
is
my
squinted mists of grace

from michellehenry.fr

POETRY IS - JUMP TO THE END

poetry is a flatulent comeback
too late but nevermind
left
in
natures bushes and brush and grass
all good

poetry is a direwolfs heart 
loose
on
the
transit tarmac
running 7 miles
on its toes

poetry is a bewilderbeast
hooting for attention
hooting for a ride
on
the
electraglide blacktop
backcombing its intentions

poetry is a road movie
in a circus mirror

poetry is a good dinner
and the pork lodged afterwards
in
your
yellow
incisors
that your tongue
has to touch
has to touch
has to touch

poetry is a forgotten anxiety
from wheneverthefuck
cold-calling you
in your weeknight pyjamas

poetry is graffiti and gospel
scratched in the escalators
hard-to-reach
sliding-by
plasterboard
between the magazine cover ads
repeating like a warhol convoy

poetry is your dream newspaper scream
and the dark dark sitcom
of
your
alone
alone
mind time

poetry is cotton mist and steel fact
let off the leash
kicking and screaming
playing hard
working hard
in the veins of the electric delta

poetry is on the bookshelf
broken spine
calling for you

poetry is a hummingbird

simple as that

from tolkienistperspective.wordpress.com

BEDROOM LANDS 2

BOAT DRINKS

how to catch 
a time that 
was cliche-shrouded 
in accelerator mist
in
even
its
own happening day ?

give it a name-
Boat Drinks

gave it a name 



IMPROMPTU ASHTRAYS

soft acre
bedroom lands
fuzz tone
hash brigade
call and find a slot

bear corner stragglers
bottle shop delayed
knock and sit and vent

all make
cellophane 
ashtrays
from fag pack sleeves
with 
yellow retail fingers
blue pizzahut plasters
stuck
on
stub nub string pick thumbs
learning neil young

anything at all
on the CRT TV dust




STEP AWAY
FROM THE
REM

i got a new cd
play this now for me

i would say

to a bedroom full
of amateur guitarists

subtext was-
you lot
dont know shit
about music

listen to the production
i would say
listen to the lack of production
i would say

listen to the drums
listen to that guitar sound

listen how they did it
way back when

now
step away
from
the
REM

from galacticramble.com