Posts Tagged ‘insanity’

cott

Remember those days of rebellion

At the Cott sessions on Sunday

In a beer garden paradise

All the wonderful women

All the dodgy guys getting away with it because they’re young

Pissed on cheap beer

Pub rock pounding from speakers

Nineties music all afternoon as it was the nineties

Running amuck with your mates by the Indian Ocean

Meeting friendly people at the OBH

Saying Happy Fucking New year at New Year to everyone

Falling into lust for delicious moments

Stolen kisses of consequential fire

Dancing in underage glory

Wild undulations as a dandelion being

Mega celebration enhancing existence

Experiencing bloated enthusiasm

With good friends before they deteriorated into addiction and insanity

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purple

Henry ran out of whisky and switched to weed

An ounce bought from a slightly dodgy fellow poet

Henry’s mate, Captain Conehead, came over for a smoke

“Choppety Choppety Captain Conehead” said Henry

Captain Conehead chopped up a couple of buds with some white ox

Stinky buds, purple nurple, the ultimate high in the sky

 

Henry packed his pipe, lit and inhaled

A warm fuzzy numbness descended on his brain

Everything was funkier, more interesting, more amazing

He put on the Beatles and started to sink into his chair

This is a most excellent day Captain Conehead he said

For all Henry’s paranoia and raving insanity was resolved with a few cones

And for once, he didn’t feel alone

 

christ
Twist a string of beads
Around a witch’s waist
Build a crappy tent of bulbous bones
Against the rabid rain

Which pelts poison in your brain
And soon drives you electrically insane
Nerve toxins in the neurons
Birthing paralytic rictus
And quasi simian spasticity

Beat a rubber eel upon a warlock’s wobbly bits
Signify a morbid mountain of madness
Spit upon the surfaces of suppurating melancholy
Dance into the crack within the nothing
Like a stoned fool on smack
They’ll never want you back
Until all is black as boots and empty

Taste a poxy potion of hallucinatory mushrooms
See Christ crucified with the head of a Beast
See the many horns and eyes of the beast
See the real Christ crucified in pulsating pain
See the wood of the cross multiplying across Europe
See the Shroud of Tourin photocopying a saviour
See Christ crucified on every tree
And every tree a Bible
See towering cathedrals of light hidden from mortal retinas
Fractal kaleidoscopic sun structures of infinite intricacy
Bedazzling and befuddling desperately then
Faces without eyes emerge from the void
Like fungus growing from a corpse

Flashes of spark-light phosphorescence against the windows of the skull
Mad carousing reptiles wrap their bodies around a totem pole
Wood hacked to grinning skulls piled to heaven vertical
Fire flickers and the children of light dance their circle
Drums beat a rumbling rhythm that hypnotizes
Summoning old Spirits to bring in a new age

dthomas

I in my image who never sought scandal
Fried in a vision of celluloid mist
Bearded and beaded and broken like egg-shells
Newspaper lifelines that twist around friends

I in my image of speech bubble sentiment
Mired in the marrow and marred in the bone
Cracked and corrupted like a corpse’s maggot
Craving an instant of vegetable sleep

I in my image of gossip hewn character
Sliced to a stereotypical density
Daily confused by bent backed insanity
Near to a candle-shine movement of light

I in my image so soaking in solace
With cellophane junctures of alien anxiety
Woman soaked consciousness restrained by indifference
Never becoming yet destined to die

I in my image Hawaiian shirt swollen
Bent bud-brain reeling by gleaning the green
Poison attempts to fit into the in crowd
Caustic of consequence that mutters an end

lonelyperson
Fuck this shit
I like women
Women don’t like me
It’s a conundrum
A paradox
Who the fuck wants to fuck a middle-aged fat bastard
Who the fuck wants to cuddle up to someone sweaty, bloated and pointless
How much longer will I self-destruct:
For love
For the sake of pain
For madness
For joy
For kicks
For blitzkrieg insanity
For lack of a good woman

I like women
Women don’t like me
I am:
Too fat
Too lonely
Too desperate
Too maudlin
Too pathetic
Too weird
Too stoned
Too drunk
So I have another beer
And I have another cigarette
I have another cone
Occasionally I have a shot
And exude infinite soul-longing for silent death-bliss
Which will come on like a shot of smack and euthanize my emptiness
And set me free to roam the realm of Spirits
With angel’s wings

urizen

Urizen rages against his cage
Beats meat in the corridors of the house of God
Stares down from a cross impaled on nails and laughs
He who Plotted creation in intricate detail
Builds an angry fortress with his pain

Urizen measures his universe
Like an eagle eyeing his prey
Malevolent eyes-balls pierce each molecule
Desperate grimace over mountains
Megalomania strains against iron fetters

Urizen deluded and insane beyond reason
Thinks he is God and God above God
Doesn’t realize he’s messed up creation
By failing to infuse the right amount of love

Urizen rages against his own children
Who locked him in prison to save the world
Plots suffering like swatting flies
Murder’s moments with a swish of his tail
Bludgeons the butterfly hope and drinks blood-rivers

Granite pathology
Rock grinding rock into dust
Under the mountains Urizen is enclosed
Thrashing and beating against what binds him
Birthing earth-quakes and volcanic eruptions

Despair for him is the making of heaven

crazy

Come all you twiddlers at the edges of sanity
Come all you cases, you syndromes, you diagnoses
Come all you students of advertising for secret messages
Come all you crazies, you weirdos, you saints, you martyrs
Don’t be afraid of your aromatic nuttiness
And take it all a bit too far
Dance in the mud on magic mushrooms while angels dance in your hair
Nod of in a corner on immaculate Thai white smack
Smoke rock and get a tattoo of a Wookie
Thrive on the helium atmosphere of pixie dust perversion
Hit on your nurses and steal other peoples’ medication
Baste your bottoms in cream cheese and stuff that monkey full of plums
Until it feels more real than sanity knows while your madness grows

Beat down the bushes around your consciousness and let your spirits soar in infinite space
Because now is the time and this is the place

cyclopia

A problem unresolved has razor claws
Pour Wild Turkey on it and set it on fire
Rivers of paranoia flow through my skull
The rush, the rush of insanity in my veins
Paralysed by all-consuming anxiety and confusion
Transfixed in a spider-web of conundrums
Stretched-out over an ants’ nest of irritation
Bite, bite inflammation infestation prickles
Red spotted skin rash
Flaws and faults overwhelming
Engulfed by dystopic day dreams of a world gone feral
Mothers eating babies
Father’s raping daughters
Madness and disorder seeping into nature
Birth defects and mutations horrifying to behold
Foetus with two heads
Foetus with no legs
Foetus with one eye
Foetus with no brain
Foetus with six cocks
Foetus with two snatches
Wake up, wake up
Not real, can’t be real
Awaken in a bath of blood

Salvador Dali

Posted: January 11, 2015 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

persistence_of_memory_1931_salvador_dali
Look at Salvador Dali with his waxed and pointy moustache
The artist as madman paranoiac
Look into his googly asylum eyes
Everybody loved him
No matter how crazy he became
In his paintings watches are soft like cheese
And everything is dreamy and strange
He was forever stalked by the corpse of his dead brother
Who has the same first name
His painter’s eye a psychedelic amusement park
The only laws were the logic of dreams and the unconscious
These hidden laws, this phantom logic
Which mystifies us when we wake from dreams
Is greatest law, the purest law
Pure confused free association
Dogs can be God one minute and invisible the next
In a pit of tar is hidden key of a door forever locked
The primal black stuff barking at the earth
A subtle substance worse than dirt
While women break into chunks then guts,
Then melt down the side of phallic columns
By cartoon statues made of wax
Up or down? Yes or no?
The answer is both, non-duality, pineapple
But the ordinary lunatic does not have admirers waiting for their every word
The freak talking to himself on the train is totally alone
His eccentricity is poison to the sane
And they flee and leave him in the prison of his random rickshaw brain

crazy
Are you a tear dropper?’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Do you drop tears from your eyes?’
‘No, I’m not a tear dropper.’
Did you know you can cure AIDS by shooting up Ajax?
Or that dead people sometimes speak to the living in the late and anal night?
Did you know that you are being monitored by CIA thought control drones?
They hover over your room at night collecting dreams and send them to the central database which controls the masses.
Did you know that Masons are behind everything and that they worship Satan?
The world government of Masons is coming soon and they conspire in the cabalistic night to unleash a conspiracy which will pervert all that is good.
Did you know that little chips in all our heads record our furtive thoughts and relaying them to the Masons?
Did you know that J Edgar Hoover tried to hypnotise the nation into cross-dressing?
Did you know there are secret messages just for you printed in X-press magazine?
Did you know agents of power-crazed authorities may knock on the door at any minute?
Did you know that this is all total hokum and bullshit?