o god
u poor old fuck

how were u supposed 2 know
that this was gunna happen

who could’ve blamed u
bored with pulling yr dick
& watching reruns of mash on tv

people do all kinds of things out of boredom

now stuck inside a nursing home
at the mercy of the carers
who provide your pills at dinner time
and your bastard of a family
u wish wd sometimes visit u
like they said they would

who could blame u
for sometimes being kinda grumpy

2

he was a really strong man
& he just got stronger
things happened to him
that he couldn’t do anything about
but he was so strong
he just let them happen to him
gritted his teeth and tried not to think about before or after
i mean so strong
u couldn’t believe how strong he was
he kept on walking and living
gritting his teeth all the while
and when bad things came out to get him
he just stood there patiently
& let them
let them do all they could
but he was still there
still strong and then stronger
he was so strong

until one day he woke up & died.

OBITUARY

in one dream she is always flying

not anywhere or anything
just
flying

she didn’t want to know what it means
or what will happen
just liked the feeling of flying
flying
flying
it happened most when she was more tired than usual
& even when she was too sad to cry anymore
she could always think of flying

He’s magnificent in his mourning
imagining how great his pain wd seem
coming out of a camera
or somebody’s pen

he practices magnificent scenes of passion
& never before seen agony
while he’s masturbating or taking a shit

he can somehow always see himself
thru an audience eye
he kinda likes what it sees
& the act goes on
mounting to ever higher pitches of frenzy
climbing to peaks unexplored by any psyche

he is massive in his untold grief
breathtaking in his eloquently silent loneliness
if this was just a movie scene
or a line from a poem

how beautiful he wd b
how wonderful his acclaim
how much more it would feel

if it wasn’t really him

the ad’s crucial moment
was when the wave of hair
was flickered like a pool of light

but they were otherwise occupied
tussling on the floor
for an endless goal
the critic groans at the poor construction
& goes back 2 looking for free porn

they – he/she, he/he, she/she?
weren’t interested in other motives
didn’t care about how power was exerted in a given discursive field
& it’s not for me 2 know exactly wot they did
in their corner of modern literature
hidden by the camera’s bulk

when he finally died
the music flowed on down like honey
viscous luxurious
at exactly the right time

could’ve sworn, while eating his rice so diligently
that this was what it’s like to feel pain
realistically

them sniffing it up thru hungry nostrils
enjoying the fragrances of eloquent mortality

at the very edge of death
they knew what it was to happily survive

writing the single line of a play

the playwright opens his flower

to the world
painted
and hurts himself by looking

there was glory once

but just think about how it came

horrible things in rank & file
horrible hands pushing thru the light


the audience is dead
staring at the wonder of creation
they know true fear
& quake accordingly

but if he wanted something else

they wonder if he cd get it

they wonder quite a lot

dead in their seats
applauding the poison in the flower


[Applause]

butterflies & men

the president said that it wasn’t his fault
& showed pictures & maps to prove it

he told his life story to anyone
who was listening
& did so in carefully timed & balanced sentences

when he came to the first day of school
the opposition screamed out its objection
but the judge appeared to disagree
& advised the court of the latest baseball scores

when the furore passed
an icecream man made a tidy profit
especially from the children in the audience

then the frame shifted a little & i cd just make
out the cameras & props
on the other side
before my set went off completely
at this point she wakes up
to thank god it’s just a dream

it’s a resonance in the head
some kind of resonance
in the head

he didn’t know what was coming
all the reports and counter-reports
when one click on the government website
would’ve cured them both of stupidity

must be some kind of way of writing
must be some right kind of way

repetition of selected phrases
can give them meaning all on its own

and as they hunted out the lost city
they became a major source of income
for rebel groups

the resonances in the head could not be quite avoided
they accounted for things that moved
beyond our knowledge

they were called FARQ
due to the fact that they elicited
a cry of “FUCK!!” from income they encountered

they didn’t know that just one click
would’ve saved them from stupitidy

the writing hand worried a phrase
turning it over with significance

all the things that happened in the city
seemed to happen of their own accord
they turned around and around themselves
acquiring certain sources of income

limits of communication crowded all around the party
crouching over them in steaming layers of jungle fantasy

with quite advanced electronic equipment
the rebels could even transfer
funds from right where they stood

given the right sort of footwear
they could’ve gone places

the only word she could say was goodbye
it confused a lot of people

when she wanted to buy more milk
she had to go to the shop & gesture to the guy behind the counter
and say
goodbye
goodbye
it was difficult at first

but she actually got quite good at communicating
she found that different emphases on goodbye
sent different kinds of messages
she talked with her body her eyes
she got along ok after a while
just always saying goodbye

but on that last day
when she finally had to go
she looked out the window
hidden by busy men & newspapers

she looked out as hard as she could
and said goodbye
goodbye

everyone in the air thought she was a little crazy
but she kept on saying goodbye
nowhere between somewhere and somewhere
she could only say goodbye
and nobody understood.

may disturb some viewers

one day the heart blew apart into soft tiny pieces
into muted colours
with a muted
wet
splatter of a liquid semisound
the colours exploded in greys and pinks and rotten olive and deep thick red

after the initial shock the pieces of the heart
picked themselves up and started to struggle off
in their struggling shambling way

mute ted splattter
lick
wid
exploded!!!
three exclamation marx
g r e y s
[pinks ro ten o live
exploded
wet wet wet wet
splattered mess



a small thing resembling a grey shattered cunt
started to drip off
emitting a low whining sound
as it snail trailed off into the darkness

a larynx, catapulted into a corner of the ceiling from the explosion
stuck there, hanging, raw pink,
quivering wordlessly

a big greenish stump of a penis
hopped thickly across the bloodswept floor
launching itself at the nearest wall
connecting with a bonecrack thud
sliding down
and gathering again for another launch

wordless soft grey things screamed out their stink
steaming
demanding some kind of retribution
this sad sick pile of horror every thing had become

jelly pieces of different shades everywhere
wobbling without reason
or sense

the vomit of the odds & ends of this existence
that was at one time
somehow strung together

finally free in the world
making their own way
inarticulately loving every moment of this brokenness
this future
this piece of contemporary art

the mobile phone shattered into so many different pieces
as the rain poured down
flowing into the underground of angry tears
we couldn’t find the soul of the phone
someone must have stolen it
when we were looking somewhere else

a shout of FUCK YOU
and the crashing of a phone’s soul
the rain poured down
covering everything with its melodramatic patter
the soul couldn’t be found
even though we looked everywhere
for at least half an hour
asking everybody if they had seen a phone

but the rain was so wet and dark
it stole our eyes and brains
i had to buy a new one

and then the talking stopped

newish poem

The airplane still seems to be going
it has been flying for a very long time now
i don’t think it can ever stop

as it flies
it pushes its smooth
fluid
cylindrical
bulk
thru the atmosphere of tears and promises
forcing its way thru it all

how could such a thought
so sharp
ever return to the soft earth?
the tears stream off its body
following aerodynamically maximised flow patterns
it flies for ever
blind
cold
its roar of rage
hopelessly trailing in its wake

The Town 10

a hole was dug
so deep
so dark
and noone knows what for

But it was there
Waiting for something.

The velvet of its depths was soft & rich
it had the texture of a rolling, brooding luxury

It was a very deep hole
And much too dark for sight.

The Town 9 - A rubbish fable

A rubbish fable.

When it started out,
the pile of rubbish
wasn’t even really
a pile of rubbish
It was just a few odds & ends of shit
that people happened to drop
when they were on the way to work or a movie
You couldn’t really even notice it at first.

It grew though.

When somebody chucked an old iron bed there
things were really getting along well.

Kids started playing games on this
fantastic heap of shit
you could build all kinds of castles
mountains
international space stations
and fun crap like that.
A colony of flea-bitten cats moved in
in harmony with the mice already there
which they sometimes ate.

it became kinda like a fantastic city
full of all kinds of amazing shit
if you didn’t think of it as a pile of rubbish
it was kind of beautiful in its way
a beautiful way of fucking up a place.