Hey alright, shit man well I'm going to try something new tonight, which is what the missus said to me as she strapped on a dildo of dizzying proportions and entered me like a bank robber high on ketamine and blood lust, so if you see me limping towards the bar to get my nightly dose of poison spare a thought a thought to a man whose world have changed for ever. I expect to have flashbacks for the rest of my life, never mind its good to broaden your horizons, is what she said as she filled my reluctant rectum to bursting point, at one point I think I started to hallucinate, I saw those identical twins from the shining in the corner of the room eating hot dogs as they laughed in Japanese, it's rather curious to me why my tortured brain should conjure such an image, brain chemistry altered by blunt force trauma probably. Weddings vows never mentioned these kind of things do they? Actually it would be quite entertaining if they did, do you Scott Michael take Fifi Fucking Trixibelle to bum you? My wedding vows were hand written by a gifted yet troubled rent collector from Stuttgart, of course it was in German and useless but hey he's a nice guy, his grandfather didn't gas that many people regardless of what the papers say, he tried but he was a raging alcoholic and never turned up for work, once he and his mates broke in after lights out and put traffic cones of the heads of the fattest Jew they could find. There weren't many of course but they were fucking wasted man and it's the thought that counts right? Regrettable family members is a common theme through history and Jesus man I have some beauties, the auntie that never and I mean never swallows what I give her for fear of contamination, the brother in law that thinks that an African Clawed Frog has stolen his ability to use a microwave when it's raining, my beloved brother bless him in all his endeavours has the unfortunate habit of pissing on people, it is one of the wonders of the world to see him piss in the face of complete strangers as he sings rugby songs, I have tried to get him to post something on youtube but he is reluctant, it doesn't help that he has a cock of a bashful Lungfish but we live in hope don't we?
As a change of pace, I'd like to read this to you
THE MINER
She smelled of perfume and lady sweat,
of coconut oil and sunshine, these are
the things I remember of her while
she is away, working at the mineface
of tribulation. All this she does so I
can pursue my dream, a foolhardy dream
that has preoccupied me since I was
old enough to hold the tools of my trade,
these hands of mine are blessed with brilliance,
bathed in the light of inspiration. But lately I
have terrible dreams that dam the flow of articulation
and my soul is saddened, what was once
a fiercely burning desire is now a ruse, a scam.
Nothing excites me, the sight of her naked
flesh only hints at the sagging yet to come,
that her supple flesh doomed to ashes and
mine with it, hope is just a word, my
feelings belong to another, thoughts, voices,
they plague my waking slumber that some
derisively call life. I fear the worst is yet to
come, help me, won't somebody help me?
Before it's too late and madness engulfs
me completely.
There that's better, it hurts my feeble and childish mind to store these thoughts, the words swirl and breed until only God himself can sort out the mess in my mind. I remember one occasion when I believed that I had alien hand syndrome, for those of you not familiar with its an unusual neurological disorder in which one of the sufferer's hands seems to take on a mind of its own and all kind of crazy shit was going on man, grabbing tits and asses, hurling my shit at buses and constantly wanking but then I realised that it was just the puppet master that is more commonly know as God pulling my strings, I cut the strings and peace was returned to my life. The old bastard still plays tricks on me, yeah, I married her. She's just as bad as I am, once she was convinced that telepathic birds were planning to get her mind pregnant, Jesus woman I told, your seven kinds of crazy. She nearly set fire to our bed, with me still in it just because the post man didn't smile when she saw him in Tesco's, the drugs don't help but without them she's fucked, anyway I love her and that the end of it.
Wednesday 4 March 2009
NEPHOPHOBIA
He likes winter best as the sun barely shines, bruised and awkward
skies from which he hides himself. Not from fear but from need,
the need of a tormented mind. He isn't sure how it all started
but he would bet his last tenner that drugs were involved.
The gloom of night soothes frayed nerves and the lights
of the office comforts him like a quilt on a cold night
he knows they are out the waiting, waiting to ruin
what little peace of mind that he has, children play games
with them, lovers lament them, they can make or break
a picnic on the beach. He knows the truth, they are the
harbingers of doom, destruction and desolation.
Cloud after cloud spreads across the world, he imagines
their birth as they are brewed up in the bowels of
hell. He lives in darkness so he cannot witness their
spread of annihilation and terror. There is no escape
from them, there are everywhere. He cries in his sleep
Oh death where is thy sting?
MY PRAYER
Fear is a part of me,
my life, my future,
my past, nothing can
erase the memories
this broken mind
holds, Oh lord spare
me from the influence of
those that seek to harm
me, you know them and
their intentions. Help me
circumnavigate their traps
and snares as they plan to
stop me finding happiness
and fulfilment. Your help is
sorely needed, do not cast
me out into the darkness
and gnashing of teeth,
strengthen a timid
heart, let me roar like a
loin as face my enemies
in battle.
Either that or let me
get laid.
DENIZENS OF THE 7TH PARALLEL
In the multitudes of the
world there are those
that see beyond the
constraints of reality,
some revel in
an existence where
telepathy and
precognition is the
linga franca,
others are destroyed
by the gift that they
were born with,
unable to comprehend
the world that they
live in they are
tormented by the
voices of others
and they seek
refuge in drugs,
drink, desperation,
anything to stop the
chaos in their minds.
Such distraction
never works, once
you are born into
the 7th parallel
nothing but death
can free you. Some
lucky denizens
adapt, some thrive
and prosper, I am not
one of them,
anarchy and misery
is all that I found,
happiness and
serenity is impossible
for me, this I have found
through many wasted
years. Years where I have
walked the roads of the
impossible and have forseen
the worlds decline into
lawlessness and acts
of extreme hatred.
HISTORY LESSON
A folded magazine on the table,
an empty cup, nothing else
nothing else, her clothes are
burning in the garden as
I sort through photos selecting
memories most hideous to
mind and body, they too
will join the furnace of
my hatred, images
flash through unfortunate
mind as my lips long for
her gentle caress once more,
then the radio plays the song
which was the soundtrack
to our playful lovemaking
and the tears swirl down
beaten cheeks.
CELESTIAL TWILLIGHT
After a sodden purge, I woke to find broken glass
and a week old kebab blooming with mold
and bacteria. Patchy memories of drunken, abusive
calls to those that had left me, girls long gone
but often remembered in the depths of my self
pity. Love is not a gift the Lord is willing to
bestow upon me, oh, the occasional fuck come
my way, plain, uninteresting women with the
personality of a spoon. I feast upon their
sex like a man who may never have the chance
again. I loathe life, even the word itself pains
me like a spear through the heart, why was
I not consulted before being sent here, if I
knew what disquiet and distress was waiting
for me I would have never come here, then dream
upon dream she arrives, the one with faithful thighs
and a silken laugh that recalls the peaceful moments
in one of Shakespeare's comedies. Easy, quick witted
and full of love, things go well, really well and at last
I understand the path the has been laid out for me,
wretched with loneliness I did not see the worlds
beauty, she teaches me to love myself again in quick
easy lessons that a child could understand and we
marry under the stars which I once longed to return to.
1998
Muted and smoke haunted the bar didn't seem much,
the barmaid plain but blessed with bounteous breast
which amused the customers, the music leaked into
the collective consciousness like a pathogenic virus
intent on slaughter, hours, days, an entire lifetime
spent within the four walls of the Reef, time not
regretted but given with honour and respect to the
altar of our ever loving god of the good times. Early
mornings spent recovering, late nights in raucous
abandon. Chance meetings of friends lost to the
ever ticking clock, life lived with the constant
accompaniment of the vessel of our destruction,
pint after pint poured down willing throats, then
cursed the next day, the question remains unasked
why do we spend our lives poisoning ourselves?
The answer, well the answer remains to be discovered.
Perhaps if Socrates were alive he would know, but
he too poisoned himself with hemlock, just like us.
He likes winter best as the sun barely shines, bruised and awkward
skies from which he hides himself. Not from fear but from need,
the need of a tormented mind. He isn't sure how it all started
but he would bet his last tenner that drugs were involved.
The gloom of night soothes frayed nerves and the lights
of the office comforts him like a quilt on a cold night
he knows they are out the waiting, waiting to ruin
what little peace of mind that he has, children play games
with them, lovers lament them, they can make or break
a picnic on the beach. He knows the truth, they are the
harbingers of doom, destruction and desolation.
Cloud after cloud spreads across the world, he imagines
their birth as they are brewed up in the bowels of
hell. He lives in darkness so he cannot witness their
spread of annihilation and terror. There is no escape
from them, there are everywhere. He cries in his sleep
Oh death where is thy sting?
MY PRAYER
Fear is a part of me,
my life, my future,
my past, nothing can
erase the memories
this broken mind
holds, Oh lord spare
me from the influence of
those that seek to harm
me, you know them and
their intentions. Help me
circumnavigate their traps
and snares as they plan to
stop me finding happiness
and fulfilment. Your help is
sorely needed, do not cast
me out into the darkness
and gnashing of teeth,
strengthen a timid
heart, let me roar like a
loin as face my enemies
in battle.
Either that or let me
get laid.
DENIZENS OF THE 7TH PARALLEL
In the multitudes of the
world there are those
that see beyond the
constraints of reality,
some revel in
an existence where
telepathy and
precognition is the
linga franca,
others are destroyed
by the gift that they
were born with,
unable to comprehend
the world that they
live in they are
tormented by the
voices of others
and they seek
refuge in drugs,
drink, desperation,
anything to stop the
chaos in their minds.
Such distraction
never works, once
you are born into
the 7th parallel
nothing but death
can free you. Some
lucky denizens
adapt, some thrive
and prosper, I am not
one of them,
anarchy and misery
is all that I found,
happiness and
serenity is impossible
for me, this I have found
through many wasted
years. Years where I have
walked the roads of the
impossible and have forseen
the worlds decline into
lawlessness and acts
of extreme hatred.
HISTORY LESSON
A folded magazine on the table,
an empty cup, nothing else
nothing else, her clothes are
burning in the garden as
I sort through photos selecting
memories most hideous to
mind and body, they too
will join the furnace of
my hatred, images
flash through unfortunate
mind as my lips long for
her gentle caress once more,
then the radio plays the song
which was the soundtrack
to our playful lovemaking
and the tears swirl down
beaten cheeks.
CELESTIAL TWILLIGHT
After a sodden purge, I woke to find broken glass
and a week old kebab blooming with mold
and bacteria. Patchy memories of drunken, abusive
calls to those that had left me, girls long gone
but often remembered in the depths of my self
pity. Love is not a gift the Lord is willing to
bestow upon me, oh, the occasional fuck come
my way, plain, uninteresting women with the
personality of a spoon. I feast upon their
sex like a man who may never have the chance
again. I loathe life, even the word itself pains
me like a spear through the heart, why was
I not consulted before being sent here, if I
knew what disquiet and distress was waiting
for me I would have never come here, then dream
upon dream she arrives, the one with faithful thighs
and a silken laugh that recalls the peaceful moments
in one of Shakespeare's comedies. Easy, quick witted
and full of love, things go well, really well and at last
I understand the path the has been laid out for me,
wretched with loneliness I did not see the worlds
beauty, she teaches me to love myself again in quick
easy lessons that a child could understand and we
marry under the stars which I once longed to return to.
1998
Muted and smoke haunted the bar didn't seem much,
the barmaid plain but blessed with bounteous breast
which amused the customers, the music leaked into
the collective consciousness like a pathogenic virus
intent on slaughter, hours, days, an entire lifetime
spent within the four walls of the Reef, time not
regretted but given with honour and respect to the
altar of our ever loving god of the good times. Early
mornings spent recovering, late nights in raucous
abandon. Chance meetings of friends lost to the
ever ticking clock, life lived with the constant
accompaniment of the vessel of our destruction,
pint after pint poured down willing throats, then
cursed the next day, the question remains unasked
why do we spend our lives poisoning ourselves?
The answer, well the answer remains to be discovered.
Perhaps if Socrates were alive he would know, but
he too poisoned himself with hemlock, just like us.
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