Archive for November, 2017

the-flame

Computer speakers resting on one another

Printer monitor, TV, air conditioner

All waiting for me to do something profound or stupid

Watching me gibber like a gibbon and prance around the room

In my Hawaiian shirt

Loaded and overloaded

Dumptruck deadly

Beaten and bloody minded

Tripped out and terrifying

But I have friends

And cuddly piggelies

So all is well in the kingdom of the Piggelie King

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out-of-the-web

Things looking a bit cleaner

Thanks to my mate

Piggelies running across the floor

Chasing after the fresh prime vegetables.

They’re the fresh prime crew

Cat cage, speakers, computer existing by inches

Desk, couch, bedding, cushion just being there silently

Printer, pussycat, hay bag

This is the kingdom of the piggely king

A mean cat

A grumpy black and white cat

But a proud and beautiful cat

Piggely cage

Lovely piggelies popcorning happily

Getting into each moment mindfully

Feeling less afraid

Breathing slowly from the diaphragm

Piggelie time

Let the piggelies run free

Get in amongst it

Let the piggelies run free

Pack it up over the sky

Waving one hand high

a1

A just but cruel Angel pulsates as bone is broken and minds ripped open

A tortured assassin waits for the warp and weft of the world to untangle

A frenzied demon cuts throats ad infinitum in hell

Things are not well

Out of sync, caustic and crapulent

Cryptic moments flicker-framed in twilight

Slow-motion mind-meld with the detritus of existence

Mysterious esoteric forces at work

Lockstep illusion production to mystify the arcane world

Lurkers and little green men planning our movements

In intricate patterns

It’s all mapped out man

Determinism

John Berryman

Depraved Piggelie wanted a pile of pot

Laugh Piggelie while your empire falls apart

Cry Piggelie as you mess up your brain

Howl Piggelie to the choir of naysayers

Rupture your sense of entitlement

Cling to a holy and beautiful lover

 

So what of it, Mr Cones,

You pilfer your darling’s sanity

You rest your hand on her pussy at midnight

Why do you think you are so special?

What clockwork conspiracies lurk in your mind?

You are nothing in a void of nothing.

 

Piggelie didn’t know about a universe of pain

A torrent of poison rain

Creep, creep of paranoia

Dead weight of depravity

All converging on the point of the conversation

In spiralling synchrony