White noise on the monitor
brittle and bitter loathing
excited by nothing but
the something under bed.

#speakless
#feelmore?
#twittering
all such useless noise.

Action is essential -
"pessimism of the intellect
optimism of the will"
wrote Gramsci, rotting in his cell.

Machine gun fire from my fingertips;
I feel the words flow like some
maelstrom of masculine violence
on some long lost mental battlefield
some monolith of shame,
Monkeys.

You don't speak, you don't listen
you're encased in your own cage.
So am I. Alive half-dead,
brittle to the core with the
threat of indifference.
Dead with the action of knowing that one is at peace
with it, the fear of the self, divided
  -in two
blue? Oh yes, blue blue blue, blue blue blue.

Red pill, blue pill, truth.
Yawn, boring internet culture.
Yawn the squalid indifference.
Yawn the 21st century
Yawn the 22nd century etc etc
Yawn the suffocating critic,
Yawn your inaction,
Yawn my pretension,
Yawn my failed attempts at caring -
Not natural.

"Yes very clever, post it on the wall and
gain applause from the decaying crowd" she says,
"as they self implode out the echoes of
emptiness, measured monolith"

I scrawl -
"no more of this".
Burning brain can crush and does frequently so don't tempt
it to go Godzilla, I can do it with ease.
Crush cities in my mind. Bombastic ******* when push
and shove meet in urban jungles.

Painful Pan Pen Ease, woodland industrial spirit crush
Boom.

The title is a clue,
Go away.

It's late but still I am awake
slithering soul, tears in a city of angels
hidden and alone, mourning day.

A sheltered concave anonymous cackle mires behind,
I look for something in this finality
and find nothing, I always could before.

My mask falls late at night and early morning,
in a moment with my back turned to the world,
I let my mask slip, and all I find is raw -
the visions seep, all that I saw and see.

A final moment I can never undo, even though I want to
I wish I could save you, I know I can't now, time
machine come, a chance to say a proper goodbye, why
has this happened to you, in your hour of need
I was not there, I remember the way you laughed despite it all,
and smiled.

I can't look at machines anymore, it's a reminder of that.
That final tragic moment that I can't wash now from memory
as much as I wish to, weeping willow tree, alive
with the memory of a man I once knew, living and free.
Your face frozen in my minds eye, why?

I think my mask must fall, and let you in,
a way to grant you access to this world again
for fleeting moments, from the beyond.
Goodbye my blood. Double eyes, seen.

This Island sits in ruin
split down the middle, ruined
tune of the howling dog
lost in the fog, black
and brazen beast, hair.

I walk down sunlit streets,
immersed in the solemnity
that is my want. I reverse, rewind
and play it all back, the screams,
the endless chasm of the undertow
lying on the other side of the street.

All God and no religion, all zest without
meaning, It's enough to drive one mad -
it has.

Tracing back memory to find the skin
all I find is a wolf staring back
with hollow hungry eyes, the beast that feasts
at **** of dawn, day by day, inside.

The Island is split down the middle.

The Dog lays leaden over a hung court,
we want a world that makes more sense
but we can't really see it, albeit in
distance, no it's not here.

Yet, the Island is split down the middle.

What's here is the sound of dizzying cries,
the flesh of the innocent burnt for Mamon
the burnt umber of the spirit, it provides no comfort,
none.

I dream of someone or something to pull me out of this
perfect calamity, peace is a world I can scarcely remember -
such pain, such leaden cliches.

Nothing is ever perfect, the Tertiary turning of the *****
the wolf howls and paddles in his boat towards a fresh death.
Whimpering soul of me, drowning in a cup of coffee, lost, afraid
and lacking faith. I swim. Drown sometimes, then resurrect, unfortunate and unwilling Lazerus. Blinking into mortal light.

Each day is another trial, the end seems far away, and close at the same time.
I don't think this one has a happy ending.

Divide by 2, create 1.

Burning

Burn burn burn
turning around and around in a world
gone mad on illusion,
be glad to scrawl some truth
on the walls of self,
this prison we create for ourselves
endless as the space between things
atomic glances in the glaciers
of arctic reality, alone.

Alone and with you, just you
alone, alone with you, just you.

You don't exist, I am here, alone.
Loneliness the barricaded cliche;
a comfort from the complexity of Pandora cities,
lived network, passing moments, waste,
waste bucket lies and lives -

Cries in the sombre darkness of the city streets
heathens and homeless burning, dying
spice addicted fiend crying in empty
alleyways, and me alone, crying, dying
slowly, in this cage of my own creation,
the only thing that keeps me sane -
creation of hope, "delusion you dope" says
voice inside, burning bright demon.

Burn and fry, mottle and cascade downwards,
find yourself in the dirt of experience
and avert your gaze to the heavens.

What choice do we have?
The alternative burns and haunts my soul.
Endlessly, needlessly
Burn baby burn.

When floating on down avenues of deep subconscious
remember to stare upwards for at least 10 minutes a day
and contemplate the life of a cloud;

To that transitory vapour,
project with your iris the world you wish to manifest
in passing minutes
towards that passing station-

internal vision dominates
the human mind speculates
and accommodates,
what it wants to see -

with each passing minute
with each wasted day

Life flashes before eyes
concrete and grass
lying down and getting lost
in a deep death that breeds
everything and nothing,
Dissipating contradictions in the sky.

Just you and me and the silence in between things
hello cruel world, once more Venus in pearls
hollow echo:
the only way to conquer your fears is to face them,

to splinter a beady eye with glowing heart
first explode out your heart and intellect
combined in a style not
unlike Omega man.

to
ritualise the intent
to
combine the helix
to
hypothesise the meaningful
to
to forge cast irons in the realms of
the imagination

Fky high Omega, manufactured man
manufacture ideals
create new deals
and fielding questions from
professors draped in death black cloth;

Try and just lie back and relax
lie back and relax
relax,
relax.

It's worth not thinking too hard,
being silent in your  backyard
it's worth keeping that silence
as it's golden, yes
sometimes it is golden,
always it is golden.

sometimes the silence is all we have
and all we should have,
it's the unsaid things that hit you most
on dark nights, unsettled in a house that
shall not breed indifference
this poet writes in the third person.

In a forth wave of inspiration
something emerges which
seemed previously impossible;

Happiness, contentment
a form of therapy, a method
that does not breed indifference

These words are my fire
these words are my soul
please take my words
and burn them
into yourselves

cage your skin, and enjoy the silence because it's
where we all will one day return to globe of
warmth, death, a deep slumber, an afternoon spent napping
by a fire.

An ambience of merry mourning. Sunlight drapes in through window
reminding me of her. Ethereal glow, sheltered presence.
Who is she? And who am I,  
really?

the silence ringing
Ringing, ringing
soul singing, singing
words collapsing
worlds collapsing

language is a power
unlock yours
and smile.
Smile wider than the sun
knowing all will be well
and all is.

the silence ringing ringing, ringing,
soul singing, singing
words collapsing
worlds collapsing
worlds collapsing

Way past 12
yet still I am awake
the world sin,
in a pen
conforming lights,
this is the world now?
digitized in bytes
digitized in bites and bytes.
we are ever distant, we don't
gaze at each other on these nights
we just digitize , digitize bytes
process instead of feel
and distract ourselves
forever encased in the mud of the machine.
Lets jump on the lifeboat
and find ourselves homes
to root in, not another boot that breaks the skin
Emote, and feel
don't process
with a zeal that begs