Angry eye flares

September 19th, 2010

Strange god-like sensations

Feeling frigate frigid friend

Weird googly sounds strike

Finding the lord jinx stink

A guitar holding the plain

The pale silent threnody

Pail of strange ghostly you

Biting holy windows of me

Thinking thoroughly of her

He me she we be three to be

Be to three we shall be as she

Thinking the groans and gish

Wanting to see, wanting to want

Glub pome

September 19th, 2010

Streamed thumb

Hinged pad

The finest in the field




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September 18th, 2010

Gonna into a fish tent

Gonna see what’s in there

Gonna see the fish in the fish tent

Gonna smell what they smell like

Fish in the fish tent

Feeling warm, hot, sticky and ripe

Remembering those hot days turned cool

Cool days turning hot

The slow, hot crawl of the sun across the stinking sky

A festering reminder of every day that we’re alive, the struggle, the rot and plunder

We feel out throats and hearts leaping, throwing themselves out of our skins

We see beauty, we feel it sometimes, we know it is close

But how often are we truly beautiful?

fish tent

fish tent

The purple people

September 18th, 2010

Knowing noble, the purple people

Glancing growling, cheeks aglow

The beautiful people, and those that want to be, or think that they are

Glowing with youth, the morphic dream, halls of mystery,

Pulsing with fake life, the domains of squalid dreams

Finding a hell of your own to complete the mystery

The people moving the faces, the pictures of age and dream

The dream of hate loving hate,

Love hating love,

But it is another world of witless wire,

A wire writing the witless world,

Finding fate with the friendless friends,

Cutting hair dry, cutting to the bone of a bone-dead rag man

Running ragged, a revolution of rage and friendly putridity

Pleasing the friendly parson, pastor of pleasure

Haunting the fields of friendless fantasy,

The hollow hell of a victimless victory

Finding solutions in the early decades of ecstasy

Grinding the solution of the soul-depth, finding that day of  carnal fantasy

A hollow curse of jaded anti-metabolism, shrinking with each passing day

The wonderful little jade pleasure gore, gore gore gore

The pleasure that we are to ourselves

We please and we are pleasing, we walk and we look

We are good at looking, and we look good; we eat, and we know we eat

The days fill with food and looking. And we look.

We look.

This 2

Shadow reflection 2

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September 18th, 2010

Old ghosts stare like craven superzealots

Finding friends, the friendly fascists gore

Blindly pacing the tearless threnody

Gore, Gore, Bliley, Sarbanes, Gore

Blindly eating a saltless tragedy

Singing the praise of gutless guitars

The tears flowing salty streaks

Singing old tuneless chants

Blindly into the hollow night

Lit, faintly, at one end

Where the halls of people moan

Where the halls of people moan

Shadow reflections 1

Shadow reflections 1

Hands two

September 18th, 2010

The lumpy bones and skin, bag of ten

Those hands have eaten, carved, killed

Gentle hands for soothing faces and hair

Patting a bun, or massaging a knee

Reviving hearts, practicing primordial


Holding strange old implements


The bony bag of lumpy skin, ten bags

Two sacks, laced with red and white

Ancient beyond words

Ancient beyond words

Ancient beyond words

September 18th, 2010

The harmful hopeful plastic days

Lovely three, four, five together on a sunny day

We think those boring days of solipsism are eternal

No one exists but we on this desert planet

Finding friends friending friend loving

Beautiful dreamers, unpleasant screamers

Searching for darts, skulling for hearts

The ugly old days are forever new

The world is great and wide

And all sea lanes lead to the Mediterranean

And the skulls rotting in the waters below

All sea lanes

All sea lanes

Great nocturne

September 13th, 2010

Finding the dying knight sleeping

Eating his fairy cakes and thromboidic arterial Kronos tablet

Eating the old loud noise louts, the days in the sacred coal chambers

Eating the burn fruit, the capable fantastic ogre poor oats

Being guided aimlessly endlessly along fantastic future holes

Guiding goading finally floating,

The days pulling punishment into the dark deep void shaft of an endless heaven

The beautiful opposites know who we are, they understand and they love and know

It is all there is, this fairy life, and the beautiful doors beyond

New worlds, different neighbourhoods pulling, swelling, knowing, holding

Sparkle shine

Sparkle shine

Nick Cave dolls

September 13th, 2010

Remember that song a couple of years ago about the Nick Cave dolls?  It was by Bongwater.  Bongwater… bong… bong… Bongwater… that’s a bong… that’s what I said, Bongwater. Anyway, it was just bound to happen that someone would start selling them on eBay. And I was one of the stupid people who was destined to buy one.

It took weeks, but I finally got my Nick Cave doll. I ripped open the package, and there he was – Nick Cave in miniature.  But something was wrong about it. He didn’t look like Nick Cave. He didn’t look like Nick Drake. He didn’t even look like Dennis Miller, or the John Stewart stormtrooper doll. Shit – he looked like one of those creatures from that Star Trek series, the Ferengi or something… He looked like that guy who made me the teochew dumpling noodles I had for dinner tonight, those pork dumplings that are sitting like a lump of rotting carcass in my stomach, the ones that are growing and heaving.

All of a sudden I don’t feel so good. I don’t even want my Nick Cave doll near me any more. I just want to… puke! HYACK-HYACK-HYACK-HYACK!!!!



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August 21st, 2010

Shame on me

Or just unlucky

A vast space

Joined at the waist

Eating pain

Love in vain

Finding Jesus

Holding cactus

Just in time

Dangling vine

Justin Time, Dangling Vine

Justin Time, Dangling Vine