Posts Tagged ‘madness’

Shit

Posted: June 1, 2018 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

 

 

It’s the shit

A heavenly hit

Of newspaper madness in light blue sky

It’s a very sad thing

That sorrow brings

That makes you want to die

It’s a crush

Arcane but lush

That lets you know you’re fried

It’s in the marrow

A death that harrows

To open your insides

It’s a flatulent feat

That’s really sweet

And makes our passion slide

There’s now a beat

That vibrates my meat

And I’ll never know why

 

 

manus

We are the least of men

Iranians, Afghanis, Sudanese

Stuck on Manus forever

Outside the camp the locals will attack us

Cutting us down like dogs

They hack us with machetes

Inside the camp we die in our souls

Of neglect

Of disease

Of madness

In tropical heat

We cry out to your conscience

For you to set us free

For we are losing hope

And feeling dead inside

We are punished for coming on a boat

When Australia was built by people arriving by boat

We are a national staining shame

For if you do this to us now

Who will be next?

easy

 

Take it easy man
No need for crippling shenanigans
No need to shake your bits at women in hats
Or post a picture of your ass to the queen
No need to ramble incoherently in alleyways
Or fulminate at the news
Take it easy man
There has to be an answer to these frenzied puzzle pieces
There has to be a rational reason for the madness
There has to be purpose in fractal craziness
There has to be something meaningful lurking under the beer mats
Or it would be nice if there was something meaningful
Take it easy man
I suspect there is nothing but acres of no purpose
And piles of inconsequential rambling
If you look deeply into the house of mirrors that we call life
And stroke yourself sufficiently
You will realize that your existence is a fart in the breeze

 

bosch

Under a sky of lead and fire
Naked people writhing impaled
Or hacked to chunks
Terrified, tormented
Their bestial screams echo and blend
Flesh bleeds and spasms
Stench of despair and sulphur
Demons forked and foul organize the torture
And giggle at the pain of the damned
Fire and whirling lava lakes
Body on body tortured beyond sanity
Dogs of hell loose and biting
Rats, snakes and scorpions set free to feed from inside out
Bodily orifices pierced with sharp objects
Pain and madness intensifying
Hell’s doors are locked from the inside
But the suffering never ends

 

mystifying vibrations rapture brainwaves
20 mill shot then roam the night
beating Urizen to self destruction
eyes realize what brains synthesize

psychedelic messages from the heart of a demon-god
syringe of ice immaculate into vein
pharmacological music broadcasts bloodlike awareness

monitored conscious reading on
inflammatory creative afternoons
suffer plaster mountains of cancer
another shot into the saint vein

leafy spirit slithers to a realm beyond anti-psychotics
listen to my mind blur images
through opaque windows
under the Boab tree

intricate salvation
green succulent voices
a mind-bath most pleasing

cocktail-effect transient stare
incandescent self destruction
muttering measures of death

increasingly nothing rocks my world
a naked child with wings angelic
says blood-rivers flow like death-stench

ancient god Urizen has balls of brass and an iron-plated ass
blood infected abcesses of pain
locked in the overflow post-medication nightmare

Urizen strains in the dissonant mirror
electro-chemical squatting
angry schizophrenic God fire

candy surging consciousness
tastes sweet like boiled lollies
tingling beats across brainwaves
mind-matrices intricate and replicated

Urizen sucks Dopamine
these preconceptions challenge our walk through existence
speed like rush to nowhere
conniving a shot from a mystifying syringe
earth-quake inspiration forms a new kind of radio

failing spirits lurk ethereally
free medication vibration
reality for my molecules

the soul unmedicated
knows a meat madness of spirit
dead lord of bentness

tribal veins pump my brain
impaled on a cross
pierced for kicks

 

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

shaman-1

Always madness knocking at the door
Unmedicated schizophrenics sucking up my time
Rambling to themselves while staring in the mirror
Muttering inflammatory rhetoric and racism
Denying that they have any mental illness
Telling me that the CIA and the NBN are reading their brainwaves
Telling me that there are messages for them in the ads in X-presss
Telling me that the whole planet is being monitored and controlled by the Masons
Convinced that their medication is poison

But these are God’s children
And we must love them no matter how annoying they may be
In tribal societies they would be shaman
With one foot in the spirit world and one foot in reality
Hearing spirit voices and interpreting them for the tribe
Going on mystic journeys accompanied by spirit animals
Speaking in poetry
Mystifying and incandescent

We used to fill them full of anti-psychotics and sit them in corner
Increasingly now they roam free
Sometimes mystifying and inspiring, sometimes annoying and repetitive
Sometimes even dangerous to themselves or others
But they definitely make the world a more interesting 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

rubber

Lock your cocks
Inside your jocks
Don’t treat your meat
Like a beast to be beat
Break the back
Of madness
By spewing out your pain
Hail the snail
Of corpulence
And dance when you want rain
But don’t wear rubber fetish wear
Or dildos in your brain
No-one will care
They’ll laugh at your hair
And you will look silly again

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