INXS KICK PLAYING

 

& from out there
i hear a train

station skipping

in its backfence furrow

down where hatchbacks

wreck themselves now

in the name of weekend joy 

its hiss-whine-hoot

is a throwback comfort

to when stations had staff

& 

i would go southend

in the hair gel days

with the misfit crew

inxs kick playing

in my bbc radio head

GUEST POST, WHAT KIND OF MIRROR by Ron Heckert

What kind of mirror is this anyway?

And another day became another day.

I am writing this for posterity, to look back on in future times, better times hopefully, but worse isn’t wholly unlikely.

This space ship to Mars just keeps on travelling. 

There is an end to this journey, eventually, but whatever. 

On this day here I was/am/be, bored and uneasy, in my little spacetime travelling pod.

I drink a hard seltzer or two. 

I smoke a bit of pot.

I find myself at this daily; a drink, or two, or three; a hit, or two, or four. 

I play video games in VR. 

I play guitar. 

I talk to my co-inhabitants. 

I rotate, from station to station every half hour or so.

I look at awful facebook videos of awful people being awful.

What kind of a mirror is this, anyway?

I walk in circles.

I talk in half thoughts.

I smoke cigarettes and I KNOW it’s gross and may give me cancer.

I think boring thoughts in a stream.

I pause to pee in a stream.

The stream is not a brook, but it babbles as much as my prostate will allow.

My mind babbles too, constantly.

What kind of mirror is this, anyway?

It’s all I got.

This fool was alive, once.

from media.vam.ac.uk

CAR PARK OBS

the flats
are built 
like steps

climbing 
into
low bruised storm cloud
collected & brimming

location 
location 
location

train station a retail park away


~


i may have sat here too long
but that merc in front of me

well its tow bracket
looks like
its giving me the finger

i find nothing 
to disprove this

vandalism on my mind

from en.wikipedia.org

LOVE POPS

1.

i

need her here

and

she is here

and

i

cling

to

her

horribly infirm

to not

fall off

the world

2.

when the wedding band 

is on my finger

i

will

be

a

grown-up

at last

ha - and sick with success

i

will

tell

more people to

Fuck Off

than ever before

3.

when she leaves

for the station

in

the

early morning

i

wave goodbye

then i touch

the rosewood

of the bed frame

in

the

sickness of superstition

i used to laugh at

for

her

safe journey

from cnmuqi.com

LONDON HIGH STREET LONG AGO (GOODIS)

desperate 
for 
a 
drink
like an empty bellied winter bird
falling on a breadcrumb in the snow
i walk fast 
and talk loony
avoiding
all
subjects
anywhere near real

cos something happened

hurtle into any pub
empty middle of the day bricked up window joints
and
open fire tourist guest ale taverns
and
buy
us
all
beers without asking
tired of the weight of the bags
and

the thing that happened

i dont know who knows or how much anyone knows

about the thing that happened

and my wild mad head doesnt know
either
except 
that

somethings happened

buy scotch deliriously in supermarket queues
and
drink it in hurricane gulps from bottle while the glasses chill
in some afternoon flat
talking
about
anything
thats is not really real
channel hopping the tv 
and 
murdering and swearing
on the play station
while
they
all
cook
in
the kitchen

and its never enough never enough never enough
till
i
hobo-crash on the cheap and rough rented carpet
listening
to london trains and planes
rattle and rough
at exact intervals
and
then i run away at dawn
forcing my hangover to eat greasy food
before
early
trains
east
and
the something that happened looses its grip
in
motion and solitude
and
the cool fizz
of
cold
morning
beer
bought in cans from the station shop

BEYOND THE BLACK BEAT OF WINGS

well
its already a colour photo now
and
we will look at it and remember our clothes

its a story already
told in wonder
and
with hands

cold station and thin snow
we
add
whistles and steam