Tagged: mechanical writing

milky ovaries

after two days in the trench I put my head over the parapet and they clean shot the cigarette straight from my lips

mud and grime

drying to cement

in my head

I returned home at night my wife said I’d changed

I was beginning to fade

to a grey facsimile of the person she fell in love with

— drained and washed of colour

a slow death in verdant Albion

full of lottery winners and knife victims

I still hadn’t written that novel

or made it to the edge of the continent

and in this new landscape

it was so easy to get lost like the blind tourist who feels his way around the world

finds his way back home by following the smell of cinnamon

the roar of traffic won’t put him off

the Doppler wail of the red fire engine moves around him

easy

like flowing water

milky ovaries and we smoked autumn leaves in those days that failed to appear on a calendar

and the lunch time barber found a secret door in the back of my head

unlocked and looking in

he advised me of what he saw

500 families, forgotten memories and posters of David Bowie

bats

North. 11.12.13.14. 

Smoky MTN. 15.16.17. Ravine. 

Olympus 18.65N 226.2

esplanades 

bugs  in amber 

some form of cosmic grief

unleashed like Transylvanian bats 

download the app all calls have been re-routed

in his painting the water looked so cold

and so wet 

 the graffiti is illegible and it makes no sense         

 everything points to Orion       there are pyramids under the sea         

there are dead submarines

metal  bellies on the sea bed

I always carry a book

a pen

a bottle opener

a lighter, keys and

a knife 

be prepared 

just in case of emergency 

break glass                           escape 

but all your Boy Scout badges will not  help you now

fight or flight

the reptilian response to human actions 

pink chewing gum stuck on the seats      

do remember your first kiss

where your teeth clashed?

when you get confused due to crossed signals

that author

the one you mentioned

you said his book would change my life

it never did

and I can’t remember his name

maybe I should try a vegan diet?

maybe I should trust the stars?

maybe I should try acupuncture and pierce my skin?

meditate in the morning to the sound of whales

we touched finger tips

we held hands

we walked out into the lake

shoulder deep

like babies wading to salvation

baptised

together

there was 20 minutes before you left

for you

there was 15 minutes

left

for us

and I hope you’ve decompressed?

and I hope that we slaughtered the elephants in the room?

blood risk and ivory

weighed against the cost of gold

it was her eyes

( dot the eyes )

it was her eyes

( dot the eyes )

(the space between

her nose and mouth)

in car park bay 157

near where we stepped over the fence we passed the place where

transgressions

could be recorded

and used against

us in a court of law

⁃ how hard can this really be?

the king of candlesticks died in his sleep

on top of the Empire State

(and we knew the bullets wouldn’t hit us)

his shirt

resembled

the wallpaper

in your childhood home

spinning tops on floors

that time when you brother trapped his fingers

between the door

swelling communist red

and all the while I’m waiting for this phone to beep the suspense is killing me

what is the distance now

the distance between

those mementoes of shanty towns

and those souvenirs

the battle against the meridian

the fight against time

pictures made up of words x 3

  1. Slit dress

The slit in her dress went up to her thigh. She wore scuffed black boots and a backpack that was covered in band patches. She had a tattoo on her ankle that said ACID RAP. She walked past a red phone box. The last one in town.

1989: 10p phone calls to girlfriends

Fingers tasted metallic.

2. 200 year feast

After they landed they butchered the first animal they saw and feasted on it’s meat. 200 years later that day is celebrated by eating a armadillo.

Have you ever seen a blonde haired nun? A bald Rastafarian?

A documentary about a man with three knees.

3. Iron Maiden to the knees

The found photo was of a boy with missing teeth and bleeding gums. In his right hand he held a bunch of keys. He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt that came down to his knees. In the background a car was on fire.

His mother, long gone, mane him after her favourite singer.

sour

the spilt milk begins to sour

the cat turns up his nose

the trees creak

under the weight of the birds that perch there and the

trees roots

criss cross like the tube map tourists follow

with their eyes and theirs fingers

from

A to B

an intersection of coloured lines

the flowers will begin to flower

untouched coffee where the body lay

week

Monday: slow, sluggish, a black mark on the week, early, pan of boiling water bubbling, waiting for the egg

three beats off

Tuesday : preparation for after hours committee meetings, bored words, lazy notes, sleep

the mistress awaits

Wednesday: a hill in the valley,

day as median

day as balm

a climb to the summit

the expansive view and the journey downhill

plaster on a child’s scrapped knee

Thursday : the perpetual night before Christmas

always the bridesmaid

Friday: the precipice and the

fade into something, penultimate meeting, a graph, lines,

final preparations for things in the future , a dream of tomorrow tomorrow

tomorrow

pilots

the frozen ground will snap the shovel

there will be no burials today

the gravediggers

tell them

they can stand down

stretch their backs, rest, look at their calloused fingers

this season was no good for florists

and outdoor types

the worlds most expensive stamp was licked and stuck on an envelope

posted to a collector in Wiesbaden

tales of airmen and pilots (disfigured faces from the crash, leather jacket, altitude sickness & frozen feet

spinning dials on the dashboard, propeller & undercarriage)

•the orators

•atrocity exhibit

•C