Sunday, 26 February 2012

Fling with a tourist

My 60's student rioting in Paris. Germaine Greer, has been here. Abhorring a system that bore you into Dr Martens. You're the pin badge of slender punk. Your accent giggles over your sensational, consciously conditioned lips. The pearls of your mouth flip your face into a glorious light of life. You are life. You are a lava lamp at night. You're my underwater moon woman. Stunned and stunning. Your fresh face is the morning. Your fresh face; I'm already mourning.

2012

The whirring of computer parts has replaced smooth jazz in a world where we, the smoke soaked cretins are rendered irreversible. Solidly invisible. As a generation of starved scientists contently strive to force us extinct. Our breathe, once lay on a mirror surface in the cold like a headline across the daily paper, now seems futile and outdated. Loose teeth and cracked finger nails, flaking into the sweeping brush of an unqualified and perturbed janitor won't make the cut in our cleaned up neighbourhood. This is the avant garde.

Sunday, 11 December 2011

signal satisfaction

New Message: everyone just wants someone to text.
are you comfy being clueless in that fuzzing, bleeping hex?
You're all spinning like socks in a tumble dryer,
churning with electrics, getting jumbled with liars
who find it so easy to type a feigned emotion.
Well, without eye to eye contact love is not a token
or a sensation of fresh exciting feelings -
it's misspelt words, lazily typed on lonely evenings.

Saturday, 10 December 2011

Dear Santina

stuff I want for Christmas,

a new skull ring
a long arm stapler
Nietzsche books
champagne, really good champagne.
a handgun.

Gifts being accepted from now.
xo

Thursday, 8 December 2011

My first poetry book


http://www.amazon.co.uk/Down-the-Rabbit-Hole-ebook/dp/B006HZAV8S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1323296698&sr=8-1

Thursday, 17 November 2011

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE



all will be revealed soon.

Saturday, 5 November 2011

SALEM

Salem are dragging my soul to dirty floors, dust balls, greasy haired gaunt men with crooked bones, basements half lit, city noise, lowlife disorientation, grown up play pretend, 45mm film, stock footage of dilated pupils, far away from the place where you'll miss me.