Archive for March, 2014

Transience

Posted: March 21, 2014 in poetry
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The transience of each moment of joy and expectation drags me down like lead:
At once it is gone and again I am left here all alone in an untidy room with my guinea pigs,
Trying to replay a good memory. My face smiled once but now seems curiously blank.
How far can we travel through bat-wings and bones until we reach the shores of the Lethe?
Should we hold ourselves accountable for our insolent certifiable dreams?
Or should we give up and smoke of the fruit of the good earth while lounging about in corduroy flares and impractical hats, hatching crackpot schemes?

When we see the beauty in this life amidst the stains of fallibility and sin, the rebel sun rises and the whole world is flooded with the light of bliss.
We are transfixed and rendered overflowing with good emotion and consequent talk,
As the moment reappears again and lasts for a while.
And all the beer-soaked, blitzkrieg days seem worthwhile:
We soar on the backs of angelic eagles and howl our love eternally.

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The Best

Posted: March 16, 2014 in poetry
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The best of being is sinking into the chill emerald sand
And breathing each scintilla of morality like a martyr-
Then we will know what to do with our pain,
Because we who steal reality are doomed to ask for forgiveness
At the end of every day spent in our oblivious cocoons and,
We who seek forgiveness will question each carriage of paranoia on the train to eternal bliss,
And ride until the end of all fallible things.

No more death: each beginning does not yield an end because each is a fresh bud,
Unique and fragrant and waiting for experience.
Each bud is a manifestation of the Kingdom of God
Where every theologian is a poet
And each moment is eternal,
And blessed because it is fed from the tree of life,
‘And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.’

Psalm

Posted: March 16, 2014 in poetry
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Lord Jesus this is a messed up world,
We need you more than ever.
Greed-heads run rampant, stomping their victims into poverty in designer boots,
And everyone wants more consumer garbage- it’s all Mammon to you and me.

Send your spirit now to soak and chill the world:
Help us feed the poor and break the chains of the oppressed
And let the gays and lesbians run free.
Let the meek and humble inherit your whole blossoming earth,
Made fruitful by the abandonment of sin.
Help me to bring your kingdom in by loving you and all people,
And declare a year of the Lord’s favour,
When all debts are forgiven and all slaves are freed.

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No-one looks their neighbour in the eye
On the train.
What fearful diseases must lurk in the soul of another human being, transmitted with a glance,
That we like sightless sentinels avoid all eye contact
On the train.
We stare at our feet, we stare our phones, we stare at the crappy public service announcement posters,
On the train
‘Next Stop Welshpool.’
Smart phones hypnotize the passengers like spinning mandalas
On the train.
They poke out arcane alphabets with their finger-tips and thumbs,
On the train.
But smart phones are not smart enough to teach community,
On the train.
And only the old or sanity-impaired will talk to you,
On the train.
The pretty girls seem to have some profound and esoteric secret that they will never share,
On the train.
We come to the next stop, some of people get off, a some get on
On the train.
The doors slide open as on star-trek with barely a whistle,
On the train.
And deep within I wish I had the courage to speak some overwhelming profundity about this sorry situation,
On the train.
To leave words hanging in judgement over the hollow loneliness of a carriage full of people,
On the train.
Jerimiah would have said something,
On the train.

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Woman tell me:
When you were a little girl did you want to be a princess or a fairy?
Woman tell me:
Is the world a falling wall of endless cocks trying to twist out of their fixings to plunge into your secret treasure?
Woman tell me:
Is there a mass of hands reaching out to touch you where you would prefer not to be touched?
Woman tell me:
Why don’t you like me? Why won’t you like me? All I ever wanted was for you to like me.
Love is another issue.
Woman tell me:
Do you wonder who wants you? Who doesn’t want you? Who doesn’t care?
Woman tell me:
Why is confidence so important? Every asshole has confidence. All the monsters in the world have confidence as they have no soul or humility.
Woman tell me:
Does it hurt you when I sneak a glance at your beautiful round ass? Am I objectifying you?
Woman tell me:
Do I frighten you? Am I too needy? Am I too strange? Am I too creepy?
Woman tell me:
Do you feel alone like I do? Do you long for union? Or is it just me?
Woman tell me:
Should I buy you a drink? Should I open the door for you? Am I sexist?
Woman tell me:
Will the suffragettes come to castrate me in the late night anal darkness?
Woman tell me:
Who do you love? Who do you want to love? Am I unloveable?
Woman tell me:
Did someone abuse you? Did all men abuse you? Did God abuse you?
I curse all mankind if one of us has hurt,
Someone as wonderful as you.

Nick

Posted: March 4, 2014 in poetry
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You were always just so cool,
In your uber-gnarly sixteen hole Doc Marten’s boots and leather jacket,
Which you passed onto me and I could never quite pull off.
You were always just so cool,
With your girlfriends and your grin and your crack-pot schemes,
Your graphic design and arty inflections.
You were always just so cool,
Meeting The Ramones in Amsterdam,
Running amuck in Kashmir.

Then we dived into the smack.
Hey it was the nineties!
We were the real trainspotting.
It descended like a mist of cottonwool,
As we speed-balled with abandon through the endless streets of the night,
Laughing at the thought of our ghosts and howling out our prophecies with our mates.
Nodding off in corners in the embrace of the poppy,
And listening to Nirvana.

And no matter how messed up we were you always looked after me like an older brother,
But you were my younger brother.
Then we came out the other side and you went North to get away,
And built an adventurer’s life for yourself on the boats.
Two hundred years ago you would have become a pirate,
You were always going off on a new adventure diving or going off to some magical azure waters.
So you made some money and bought a place in Cairns,

But I never got over to see you there.
We were going to take on the night in Cairns,
But it never happened.
And some fateful day,
A mate wanted you to go to Laos with him,
And you said yes, take me to the wild lands of Asia!
First thing you did was crack a rib kick boxing,
For which you may have been given the wrong medication,
But you never made it out,
You never came back,
We don’t know if you were killed or died from an interaction with medication and alcohol.
And now all I have are your sunnies,
Which make me look cooler but not cool enough,
Not as cool as you.

Fuck me full of moonbeams!
Eat me in the stars,
Take every impulse and render it into impotent nowhere.
Write poems that rhyme about love,
And fuck me with daggers and poison dildos.

Fuck me full of moonbeams!
Beat me with the Bible,
Tell me it’s all over there is no love.
Love is broken glass and syringes.
Love is dead babies and car crashes.

Fuck me full of moonbeams!
Abandon me on the sidewalk,
Where passers-by spit on me,
Gawking at my broken carcass,
And offer me hand-jobs.

Fuck me full of moonbeams!
Suck me off with rainbows,
Bury me in used tampons,
Bong me up with chewing gum,
And death comes like a whispering lover.

Fuck me full of moonbeams!
Jerk me off with starlight,
Booze me up and get me high,
Shoot me up with sorrow,
And death comes again like a corpulent succubus.