Tuesday, 10 December 2013


She died
at the drop of a cat.
at the top of the stair
on a moonlit night
the cat sat on the chair
and shat shit on hair
She chose to recieve
them as a dying god

Sunday, 17 November 2013

Sod it all

There's no more
Gators in the gazebos
we're all destined to collapse
in sludge and slurry;
all talk is sod
just as my cigars
won't unwind

Sunday, 10 November 2013

Ode to silent Sundays

Laydown your plastic poppies,
wreathes of sage, 
mandrake, mangrove & juniper
Lead the procession
this is our only religion,
the only excuse left 
for silence
have a wet lunch after 
in the Commonwealth club.

almost smacks like a sheeshy 
boulevard of cocktails
We love the empire of the dead

Rember real poppies ?   Not too worry, this is one tradition thats more popular than ever


Saturday, 2 November 2013


By the laws of physics
 it is the ultimate destroyer of worlds
it is the female aspect of the universe
whence things come into creation,
and where things go unto destruction.

Her name's McClaine but
she likes only straight bourbon

Life is a beaut
but it wouldn't be if we
weren't destined to die
ergo, it is ugly
we think of only the
material as immortal
As if the Americans
put these highways between us
only to illustrate the fall of man

when we value
the veil, matter
over mind

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

Old Trams with Orangatangs

The myths and orders of progress
Orange juice and hamburgers,
Edificed for the initiated
no destruction of which
America's false swill
shan't sanction

The bones are
breaking out of their epidermi -
kerry looks like washington
and vice versa, regardless of
respective perukes
and they are both boned
worse than jockeys
and its wearing through and thin

Friday, 20 September 2013

doner days
are here again
the triumphs of slavery
and other gems
for sons of trailblazers
at the end of raised brows

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Bitten by visions of Virgil

Bit by bit, don't
bite into my influenza,
scrape and turn your shawl -
does it bring work to your heart ?
trenchant fear, subjective and near -
flax and twine,
aphid nectar, walnuts and Syrian wine
while next it tastes tenderly as 
sawdust and lime

Content with the morrow, 
which is wearier than old ale
crushed grapes of matchless sorrows,
the myth on evening's horizon
(of horizon's menu)
Could you give any figs as you sit here,
blooming rooms, hearths sputtering all hours
In unison minds 
married to the hereafter

Quickly, and plaintive through
churlishly lithe, 
I find your swines swimming
on the riverside with my swans
But do not let us quarrel any more

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Hysterical Triumphs of the Supine

Working in a candy store
in untailored dummy clothes
of cardboard blue
'tis no recipe for a tastefull dalliance

When Knox bought cadavers
from Burke and Hare
The junk always assembles
at the end of the pier

I've been biased toward my right hand

Hagiography and rot,
inability to feather-line the cot

All is as brittle as Bulgarian shacks 
in Dumont
Let the tardy parvenus
drown in detergent, formica


Its a male hypothesis,
essentially antithetical to women
politics, philosophy.
It's refreshing that they do not care.

Today's another day
smothered with daktacort
a tear's another tear,
just as
I've been loving animals for years.

Friday, 6 September 2013

Where were you at the beginning
when madness, along with fairness
was just a cause
at the birth
of a cool breeze

You could be manichean
'neath the jewel thief sky
before a blue green sea
lonely as a hungry dog
with half dead family,
teeth missing like a whore

One of these days
gonna shine my own shoes
in barbarous despair,
in suicidal ecstasy,
It ain't fair
these harridans got
their hooks in me

Monday, 2 September 2013

Where hillbillies declaim 
Shakespearean proclivities 
and bluegrass ascends 
the crenelated stair of baroque,
As faded ornamentation of the Saracens, 
counter-reformation built on 
foundations of flamenco dancing 
& strains of
black veined mulatto's 
Therein contained, 

lay concealed
in musky mystique, are
seven veils 

Monday, 26 August 2013

The South
was the backdoor
of the civil war
Tamar was a temple prostitute
Rahab, the madam of a brothel
Ruth, the most moral,
a shameless sexual exploiter
Bathsheba committed adultery
with King David.

Tuesday, 6 August 2013

All good Lutherans

Theyre all Lotharian now, although 

there's some doctrine
buzzsawed by Bolivian
drumrolled in the tragedy of peasants

Cash on trees like the avocados
All good Lutheran tradesmen
swearing by Peruvian moons,
Insensible, they called us
they put truth on trial.

Cashed you like a 
chequing account darling,
Screw your 
like tinfoil

 ain't good for you - 
unlike avocado
put some sauce on the fire

You wonderful imperfect foil - you bear the burden of my soul
in your body so swell

In a wounded world
the sparrow has his home
the swallow finds a nest for
her young

The age of direct assertion
makes most in its path
but man,
man has nowhere 
to lay his head

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

Cut this Stone into my Sword

Passages from antiquity
cut into my stone
from Plautus to Macrobius

America is a harlot -
you can always go back to her /
a harlot who revels 
brash & profane

A theological excursion
into the righteousness of death
jazz is a fatuous, drunken slur

Until Monk shows up.
in a second the women will
be letting wail 
gales of woe

Americans clap so easily 
they're as low as dogs
that's not to say there's no dignity
its just Enshrined everywhere 

Then there is the shame they must feel
that they didn't do the whole hog, and 
just go completely feral.
For real, man
flashes of steel
flesh of my flesh, 
Oh poverty, like
the people of old
Ramshackle, fecund
Confeds in the attic,
Trotsky in the shed..
and you were just
'musing around' the met on 
Monday in the Renaissance rooms.

Thursday, 11 July 2013

It isn't my calling
to engage with
skeletal shellsuited
bottom feeders
Especially not

to feed on them myself.

Insectoids are
the new Morlock-feed
Is it not then also asinine to contemplate
consuming lobster ?

Monday, 1 July 2013

drunken flesh seeking soiree

All the flesh
all the desire
in the fire

Cauldron of the Gods
processed meat
ruthless simplicity
grease for cat's whiskers

Sunday, 2 June 2013

stem steam sturm

my laughter stems from
raw failings
my ranting and railing
steams from
overwrought pistons

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

I've come to the conclusion that the only thing
that truly honors the feminine is the Catholic Church,
via the Virgin cult and that this is the sole genius of the west.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

To Paraphrase Tzu

what you gonna do now
that revolution is mainstream
metaphysics ended with Kant

Its a very narcissistic,
childish perspective
Topple the crowns
and place them on my own head
Pharisees, Sadducee's, false prophets

there is sadness in wisdom
that the multitude do not want

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

You bring the earth and lilacs
into my life and leave me
joyous, and quick witted
If only I could
love exclusively you

A good woman is hard to find
and worth far more
than rubies.
You shall know her
by her knitting
and sowing
but those only
worth loving
crazy ones

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

'Tempered as a sword

Some mens running
Out of cassette tape
Unfettered minds
dispense with the
vicissitudes of the
privileged Whigs.

Rise out of the cloud,
War ash and bone

Painted surf green and
Hell red.
Sister tequila

All this sophistication,
You can't get rid of
I wanna live in a pink
Stucco garage

Friday, 22 March 2013


Percussion of simulacra
Eradicate all mystery,
All critical potential of art
Disneyland connives
the reality of the world

Utopian adults
chalk scream calvinist
substitute of disneye'd
corn custard
surprise. The
sickly sweet dreams of
childish adults,
world of sulking angels
undermines uncreated God.

The Vulgar Tower of Mordreth

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Da kartoon roolette

Whilst various races panned out
on banks of screens
I somehow got onto
the subject of roulette with a rasta called Billy
He said, the guy who invented
"the cartoon roulette" killed himself
I said, why didn't he take a step or two back
(pre-cartoon, post-table)
apropos the original, go out 
with a game or two of Russian roulette


Friday, 8 March 2013

The Pan of Spiritual Claret

The pain
of spiritual clarity
Comes at the end
of a history
All these books, unread
All these guitars
All this deutsche, unlearned

Just waiting for a bus
feels like a life ruined
A shadow trial
A grave childhood humiliation

Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Sunderland 6:39 runners

Smoky Okie
Speedy Gone Goddess
Brown Zip Tutties
Sacrificial Love
Teresa's Skin
Hideaway Hannah
Le Thrashing

Thursday, 7 February 2013

wenn Deutschen den krieg gewonnen

If Germans won the war,
with straight lines etched in the ice
If war is a game of death,
a larger sacrifice doesn't mean you lose.
Those Teutons !  Perpetually unrelenting.
The Germans never won the war,
they took the top floors.
dies ut mean, after all,
there are straight lines
in the icicles of nature?

Like shafts of light,
blades of lightning

Dread the romantic
Dolph died before he doddered
Dance the bearded ache.

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

in the manner of Lucilius

Ambition to fulfill the austere demands of art,
the mind moving to mighty themes,
Demands discipline, simplicity,
The heart like a mirror.

Disdain the haughty seats of the mighty,
Humiliating invitations to drunken dinners
the ecstasies, the low pleasures,
The mental spark guttering out with the wine.

Refuse theatre seats,
refuse to sell applause
To the actor's empty mouthings.

Sunday, 13 January 2013

Standing round the fruit market
Appraising minty onion shadows

The models come in their
chaperoned Prague cortinas with
evangelical street maps 
& droll affluent certitudes

Dear Rosa Parkes,
They got nails in their hearts

When my name was like champagne
My heart was snaffled up in snow

Sunday, 6 January 2013

Dusty Jones                                                                                                                                                            dustman moves.
Hanging 'round a touch on
The roughest dealers in
East London, Fook Uff

Beautiful chastity..I grant you may know me..sweet nectar of innocence, swirling around the brain

so wrong in
my concept of Wellington.

Theres nobody on the playing fields
Except for dogs and crows
Gentlemen..you are automatically disqualified as soon as you step into the third class carriage.
Dusty Jones,
Take the charcoal with the bone,
Rough with the smooth,
melancholy with the ebouilliant.....

Friday, 4 January 2013

Wasn't good in school
because I didn't believe in
learning by rote

Men beating their breasts like banshee gorillas
I listened to that
like a dutiful wife

Educated only comparitively
by the standards of a hilarious degeneracy
We like to draw parallels with the late
roman empire
these are wild phantasms
lacking the necessary erotic ornamentation
of contemporaneous households

I was well by not doing well.


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