THANKS A LOT

i manically talk to
a news station host

about the wildwest bots
ramjamming our theoretical freedom
& lack of investigation
into the ditto same
& then / why not
about call-in shows themselves

but its all in my head tho
& its feels like three hours passed

& i am missing the essential rest

my post-lunch nap is meant for

thank mad cannabis
thanks a lot

4D YING YANG

 

tomorrows yesterday
is time for lunch
& a nap

& yesterdays tomorrow

is suppertime

& a bath

next weeks last week

was a coffee binge

& posey ooze

as i flatten

relativitys 

4d ying yang

with my bad clay bulk

SCREEN BURN FADED

cant recall all of this poem -

i was napping
& its screen burn faded
into dreams
of victorian era 

whisky heists

but it ended like this -

'wild & loose

 on

 the
 lsd spiderweb tangle
 of
 englands roving roads'

its beginning 

forever lost 

to the ether

WEDNESDAY WEDNESDAY

the workmen wear burnt orange hard hats

& black pirate beards

they force a hole into the patchwork street

with a mobile mechanised hydraulic drill

they put up red plastic fences

gone pink from the sun

they lay a nonslip yellow slab

bordered with bevelled black

over the space in the world

they are gone when i have my lunch sandwich

but back before my nap is properly underway

they returned with a proteous hot box 

its yellow streaked black with rust

they have wheelbarrows on the citroen flatbed 

& big thick rubber tubes coiled in columns

i hear them talk
i hear them phone
i see one gesturing in the truck cab

their engine ticks over over over

calm before afternoon bedlam

WEDNESDAY POPS - BLUES

1. TELEPHONE BLUES


i dont ring him

so he cant
not answer




2. SOFA BLUES


i cant find proof enough
that
we
are
not
all
mad

not behind the sofa
where water damage
flakes the paint
or 
under 
its blameless cushions

only pennies there

and peanuts




3. 3 O CLOCK BLUES


i nap acceptably well

for a whole

45 mins

&
wake
in the pms 3 o clock nadir

i simmer

waiting on night 
to deliver
its
own
black
conundrum

its coma
its peace
and

its certified hallucination

from quotesgram.com

ANATOMY OF A WEEKDAY NAP

noon
or thereabouts

i stretch out
i whistle for the cat

he comes
belly wobbles
squeaks jumping up to the bed
lays down

lays down
like my 
little spoon

i bury my face
in the fur
of his tiny shoulders

he smells animal clean
he smells like home

he purrs 
he ramps it up to a kind of double purr
like he might burst

then he quiets
a nostril whistles

his head sinks
an asthmatic snore
an adorable sideways wriggle

and i drift then too
him in my arms

both of us 
trembling
with dreams

pic by mango-tango monkey-pajamas

DULL WISDOM

got to
accept
the hole
youre in

before you can climb out it

but if
you find
comfort
in its
dull safe walls

well then fuck it

wallow and nap

and maybe history 
will reach out
with a dumb mitten 
anyway

and knight me

with
a
curly fry

pic from blastr.com

TIME WAS

saturdays
were
hungover
laying 
around
militantly alone
fighting the mercury
shakes
and guilt
with
eggs
and juice
maybe
beer or stronger
and
codeine
and
a
little weed
till i
managed
to shop
for
gin and steaks and spice
to
put
me back together 

these saturdays
i lay 
around
sober
my head
on a 
sweet womans
cotton belly
my
hands
deep in the fur
of
the
worlds
softest
cat
thinking
about
the other saturdays
and
the white rage
now
gone