Ben Brinkburn Sep 2013
The aliens are among us
they sit next to you on the bus
they stand next to you in the burger bar
they slouch in the shop a little ways away
looking at the handmade soaps
whilst you sniff the organic bubble bath
they are here watching
making sure you don’t put together enough rope
to hang yourself
because that is their job
and this self-destruct business
it’ll only happen
when they say so
so forget about free will and
they have plans for us that involve the stars
but only on their terms
because on Terra
live in **** and there is a universal compact
to make sure it stays
right here.
watch your back...that raincoat may harbour a tentacle...
Ben Brinkburn Jul 2013
Making love languid on a sunny afternoon
if you are holiday spend your money release yourself
The Big Hush
Astronology and people
advice on self-decapitation
walking through a graveyard
fantasising about having your head chopped off
when when when
crazy as the new normal
normal as the new whip
existentialist **** in my head
the analyst must save some money for the state
he sits there digitally ticking a spread sheet
looks at me and says
'these mental problems
are they all in your head?'
I say no they are in my feet
you have a sense of humour he says
you cannot be depressed
time to start busking in the streets
Ben Brinkburn Jul 2013
This is a test do not be alarmed
slow dancing in a burning room
drinking cheap cider around the back of the dynamo
the electricity zinging
small birds hopping about
playing  with the  spark
it rains steam rises and
Rabbit says he’s more interested in
****** these days than ***
flicking matches into the air
throwing fire crackers at passing stray dogs
dreaming of torching cats but they
are too quick
playing with the spark
Ben Brinkburn Apr 2013
I sat with Billy in his caravan
buffeted by winds and squalls
and at other times
roasted by summer heat
scalding the tin roof
lolling in oven like conditions
as we drank luke warm beer
[the fridge only periodically worked
when hit with a hammer]
and in cyclical freezer like conditions we drank
supermarket smartprice whiskey
musing over edgeland legends
and urban decay
and towns with no cheer
which was always the cue for some
Tom Waits
[old record player/vinyl/much drunken sing-alongs]
the cheap liquor slipping down
a bin burning outside
ragged crows cawing
and Billy laughing saying
he has reached the heights of consciousness
he calibrates with the saints
on the level of spiritual vibrations and
he knows this because he’s done the tests
found a book in a skip
putting the world to rights with a divine glow
safe in his kingdom
slouched over vintage **** mags
in Billy’s caravan.
Ben Brinkburn Apr 2013
Pieter is a Norwegian and he lives
in the ground floor flat and takes
the bus to work and sits in his window
on his Vaio laptop with just a bare
bulb lighting his room
and receives a lot of mail from
South America
and we chat in the corridor downstairs
sometimes he’d hand me a beer
always Heineken
never ever anything else
and he’d tell me he existed primarily on
a diet of bananas probiotic yoghurt
prime beef and eggs along with beer
and on Saturday evenings only
two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon
which he’d sleep off on Sundays listening to
recordings of his home town’s church bells
and he said he understood Norway better
than the UK
you knew who you were in Norway and
were always a touch away from a friend
or foe and there was no artifice involved
just icy mountains and clear seas and the release
of arctic breath
and one Friday night Barb came over
and we sat with Pieter on the stairs
drinking his Heineken and I caught him
eyeing up Barb’s legs and I didn’t blame him
no sir I enjoy an eyeful and more myself
but we got steadily more drunk
and I ended up asking him if he was
a drug runner for coke-crazed Peruvians
and he just smiled as if it was
not such a crazy question and he
no, just money for Nigerians
and we clinked bottles
and we laughed
park it into an account cream off your
cut and move it on
a piece of ****
nice work if you can get it and we drink to that
and I hope Barb is feeling as ***** as me
and doesn’t want to go to the Beehive
before any Friday night genital work out
as its cold and snowing outside
and I’m not made
of Norwegian stuff.
Ben Brinkburn Mar 2013
A German firm makes wooden bow ties
A Korean one concrete clocks
I can buy Dutch knitted beards if I like
to keep out the biting winds
hurtling down
from the Arctic Reaches
or across
from the Siberian Marches
a global inspiration deep in my urban cell
sorry again for the joke card that never really
was a joke
a sad sorry friend and that’s
just me
flicking through a cyber magazine alone
a brain keyed into the universal consciousness with
blind spots and frequency disrupters
dialled up to the max
sick of sitting here in the kitchen
staring out of the window with
the radio on.
Ben Brinkburn Mar 2013
scribble something
on the back of an envelope
final demand
credit chaser for that
that cannot be given
laugh and set fire to it
with a cheap bic lighter
ten for a pound
is there any release for winter snow
spring clouds
autumn frowns
summer ***
look at the line of flex
see how it cajoles
and beckons
flecks of spent
inlaid in her stockings
challenging times
for the anti-hero.
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