SPIES

at night i stretch out

like a corpse on acid

in the great shadow blocks 

of an expressive & eclectic dark

waiting for dawn to arrive

pocket sized

yellow & blue

~

&

i am hiding with the spies

in the back streets of venice
& 

i am hiding with the spies
in the books i hear too

DESPERATELY IN NEED OF A STRONGER PLAN IN A DESPERATE LAND

the killer awoke before dawn

he put his turncoat on

he took two three four faces 

  from the human gallery

& he walked on 

  high fiving

down the lobbyist hall

A CATCH 22

well i put my boots on

& 

i walked on down the hall

& 

i addressed the naysayers there

   

'it would be easier'

 i said

'to get better 

 you know

 

 if i already wasnt so ill'

BLUEPRINT VOID FILLER

the hatchbacks 

slept on the blacktop 

& go to work now 

under june sun

we are between heatwaves
& the wheelie bins 

are scattered 

in the wake of vans

the news is bad / i am scared

ever it was / but more so

the cat rolls in soil 

the soil is very very dry

my emergency solar radio combo 

charges its capacitor 

on the window sill


~

fug you the soldier said 

his chest wound bubbling again

& all the dry teats cough air 
into the famine mouths

& all the fat teats belch oil

into the unexplored godzilla sea

this is the end my friend

can you picture what will be ?

AN ECONOMY OF PASSION

looking for light
in the dark of the park

odd pop misunderstood
in your eggshell mind

alone in dusks inertia & ennui

by your own divine hand

the fm rules 

missed your 

short wave gain

you are an economy of passion

a child in the inbetween

photo - Tree & Fuzz from the Dagenham Archive

WORLD WAS BUSTED WHEN I GOT HERE

i pull my boots on
& walk on down the hall . . .

i go gardenside

for lawn

for air

for the abyss above

& the girth below

i take a folding knife
to feel useful 

to feel prepared

its titivating

its diy smoke & mirrors
& a poor shadow of our ancestors

can-do 

tinder-box 

flint & steel

rich soil psyche 

i breath cbd fog

everything hurts
i am out to pasture

in a hanging-in-there lawn chair

fox at my feet
food questions in his eyes

photo - fox & chair from the Dagenham Archive

HARD MAINTENANCE

they lived like dew drops
wrecking balls for keepsakes

      f
      a
      l
      l
      i
      n
      g
      
      d
      o
      w
      n
      
the rubble slopes of ecstasy peaks

out the wighuts up-and-over 
nylon 
flaps

into limping daybreak

~

joints rolled in
liquorice skin

hatchbacks seats shoved back
as far as spines will bend

windows down 
to 
let
the sky dive in

there is no
eternal promise
to
forgive
us
now

wasted in the weakling dawn

~

take refuge in-

unhinged and high sideways banter
a backseat tin of car-warm fanta

gurn 

to vomit ?

or 

for 
a
greasy spoon ?

~

monday morning kickstart
is
a
speed-on-cornflakes
kind-of-launch 
to the 9-5 day

the office like el alamein

climbing 
collapsing 
collateral
to a gin house brunch

then-
crawling crabways 
sliding sideways
into
cocaines
hilarious run around
dont-want-to-be-found

misadventure
of

repetitive competitive 
repetitive competitive
repetitive competitive

bare faced bluff



 

from dawn.com

WEIRD SCENES INSIDE THE BOLD MIND

blinking
fractures
my
world

into 

strobing scarlet street scenes
&
glimpsed rainbow shards

kaleidoscope oils on cement
&
catalogue layouts with muzak

repetitive soaps repeating
&
dry government safety films

horrors beyond the veils
&
drugbuzz teasers of bliss

and when the flesh curtains
fall on the days performance
i
wait
all night
for
an encore 

pushing the white noise away

from www.whitenoisecollective.com