no picnic when panic
no streets unborn here

germinal ;
creature undresses
from his cool rubbery dead skin
steps
scent free
into the sodium light
and works on its pallor

fleshed out from the plumbing
a manic talent
it sports the label , Mr. Talon
and favours a facade of mercurial cosmetics

now,
a character most vividly colourful and male-ish
a voice
a maddened song
he breaks his face
and makes it a smile

armed with this sickle
bringing his comedic heavings to the public
he goes gory across the fresh laundry
a violence upon the canvas
a spree upon welcoming sadness
an open mockery
breaking ease
and seizing upon an audience

no more chiding
from within the shade
(egging on villains
and dropping muse-meal)
the folk hero
the prankster
this fierce performer of mischief
takes the stage
in a full suit of teeth-skin
and he’s really quite ravenous
for your abiding applause

i fed on your gushy sunshine
i feed on the void black line   that centres all of your smiles
          and fall foreign in felty dreams   of extremities in distance
untravelling   a bursting sense of yelp   back across my lone moor of memory
                            for that  i am blue wound

there is love in life and liver in pâté
it's food and a crush in on me
squeezing out   my colours ruin with blame

                                                       - a discharge

a stranger to me
        - medically -
you disassemble me :
        i'm clasped kindly to the spot

with a hectic burst of flushing warmth
         my vision smudges
         my ears stopper
         my fingertips swell away their prints smooth
         and my tongue becomes
         a stunned obstacle of brawn

a blood blush has discharged
         and thorough throughout my system
         you resound ;
         a booming pulse blooming rabidly
         salivating to the tune
         of a detained ******* savagery

a nature to express how sick you unmake me
my nasal passages clear
your mere radiating visit
           has left me merry-go-maddened with pep

behaving lunatics
repressing     til the coming of rupture
                    when the clocks shall strike dumb

then we shall plumb freedom of expression

His :

i make my travel
reseeding you
                my dear heart
                      into a compact unit of storage

i relieve from our nesting comfort
dismiss our established downey base of cooperation
                                   cleave from our snared compromise

instead to bed and thieve an unshared atmosphere
guilty joy followed by joyful normality
no stale thing

unravelling light
  lifted
(secure
  that I've a capsule world
  when i turn
  toward our lap again)

goodbye of you i am mended
made completely free
                    on the first turn of a corner


& Hers :

you leave me
      on your travels (you-were-my-travels)
you leave me susceptible
my heart alters to become
       a weak permeable tissue of easy tamper
       membership structure is dissolved
         returned to the vital spill
           welcome fluent contamination
               villainess and godless vibration
                  of the goddess confession

dress hooked up past my waist
i'll power-**** away my morality on day one
each day following shall be made easy
  ushered along in brutalities slip steam
                        and the prom of eddies

back in time i've been working on something..
       i'll call it The ****** List
criminal joys and tasks of double self daring
committed
     (not folded over
       or veloped in the knicker drawer)
           it operates as a basking lurk
                               tucked discreetly
                                 correct behind the eye
                      a charm feature of the unconscious
when released
   it's something melkish and larking with energy
   tacking harm to my activated mischief
      kinetic value and uncontrollable spur

in your absence
     i am permissionless
abyssless
i account for nothing

nooks of the apartment
the memory of us quickly forms a ***** coral
i've stopped washing to suit this mode
my body, a journal of stains and earned bruises
i holla and bay at mementoes of our brace
and then stop at the near point of the neighbours tolerance

time has crushed in on its own thesis
become gummy and tenseless
skipping about in haphazard spasms
  backstep, bow and reversal
     now
          observably organic in motion
           and proud of its many personalities

Oh, You're Back Again !
    no, it is your ghost
is it a spy ? ... i doubt you knew you even had it
it threads in and out of my company
seeming baffled and far from its comfort zone
did i put you there ?
i don't call you
the physical you
because you said 'no phones'
              and 'only in emergencies' (is-this-urgent ?)
Is This Urgent ?!
i restrict where i live in here
     keep the windows widowed and veiled
it makes for an unreal canvas
i'm weeding for a correction
sensual precarious highs
violate
in a spate
with this time alone
i'll make our home a vile space
a defication
and i can make no sense assessment of it any
i fight against digestion within these premises
i stay still long enough i am softened and palped
            by a dense atmosphere and salivations of contact
and outside..

the streets are exhausted
and i've quite the nasty reputation
violence, baiting and thievery
inebriation and toxic language
i shall soon be policed
no doubt i've lost my job
for now our place is a dare for vandals
             when i am an insensible heap
                 and perspiring over you in delirium
                    they devalue the exterior

unearthing
i'll find my creative sprite
that is good
i had missed it
now this is urgent (this-is-mine-was-always)
i take up a notebook and puke it full
i take sticks in my mitt and scrawl my charcoal visions
the blood visions
   the primal mud
  on all our walls

can i piece back our home by your return ?
can I sufficiently correct the blurring history I've smutted ?
do i care to ?
no more fading into 'partner'
lease is up
you'll not find me here destroyed
or waiting
    naked but an apron with my hands cupped and mouth open
i'll have ravelled myself up tight
- having stoked my inhuman malady -
     i'll mate my own travels

                                                        ­             - aborted

Let's discuss The Redpath...

It's a way of base-studded energies

It is an expression of pains
With brief relief and heavy repercussions

It has ,in mind, the idea of a powerful hunter
But creates, instead, a coward of heady minded ignorant opportunity

It feeds with an already full and greasy belly

It's a wealth of pleasure exceeding to become sickness

It discards friends and favours ugly company

It is extremity
It is ****** and criminal imagination stretched foul and giddy
It forsakes cloth less and honest art

It takes to the air but comes up biting

It rids horror
Only by taking the part of horrors drama until it bonds no more

It spacks you open
And spares you scrappy litter

It degrades you when it promised you bliss by annihilation
And sleep upon oblivion

There's just futility when you pound on the the remaining closed door with bratty fists of anguish

It's pollution ; a rotting expense
Don't play with The Redpath

                      - Coal bitter heart tar

the wind beasts upon the frills ;
       the hills that border the woodland
the skies are busied
      and plum heavy to grey
everything is weighed down upon
       bunching
         damp and thick

who is lupine for this forest scene ?

a crew
an approach of the laboured breath
  guns and hunters
   bonded in shared intent
   they slow their knackered *****
   this is
   for them
  unravelled...
this is
new map

glances to their guide
they ferry her much mistrust
   a suggested local
    she promised them wolves
    canines of the mythology
they assume they'll take pelts
she assumes
the wolves will take the hunters

they break at the skirting
  just free of being overshadowed
gentle creaking bellows
  hauling and uffing ;
    an action amongst the trees
        a filtered drawing of nutrients
          a gill work
the men view this enemy dimension
and make ready their advance

peek inside for derelict conflict....

feel strung upon
        by the permeable substance of the climate
follow the underdrum
    the spelling heart
observe trinkets of sign ;
   an exposed nest of eggs
      a silver comb
       a cracked hand mirror
        a meaty welling of fungi tongue
       and a scissored up ladies bonnet
    :treats,
detritus
and trophies

in the dank woodland setting
  you bear foreign faces
    and you become
      tacked to your ration-less actions
refined within growth
   the blood'll quicken
life stories of abuse-ment
   have made a tumid bruise of Mothers udder
this feast has history
and sitting
  and wit
this selection of trees
this marred ground
the gathering weather

what are the wolves to their guide ?

she walks
  Fathers axe loose in one hand
    pre welcomed
      into this unfettered fancy
she takes off her red velvet cap
  and lets it to litter
     ; token

she has crossed the barrier with company
   no pity for her fellows
those she escorts
are offerings
and she a returning guest
  most welcome

all the forest characters
the 'monsters'
  shall greet her teeth to teeth
   and the meal on their breath
     shall match hers

the hunters pick into the womb
   silent
     professional
       and stalking
their weapons point their way
the guide follows
  caution-less
    casual
      revisiting childhood

.....the love showed up...
..mocking at my door..
...scratching imperfections...
..into the paint..
...till my senses jarred...
..and the manor with which I viewed this world..
...was declared
(feast in maw)
"Dealt with"

I battered open the door
And let in
An overwhelming nutritional excess....
.....refeeted in this way
I was handed all this :
The damage was
a Rinth of Life
when all I wanted
was a page to unfold

I must reflesh my memory
It's getting gammy in here
Flush it
Charcoal silt, pured water and oxygen
Prey attention to memory
Tend to it
Till it
Till it's clear and consistent in it's dishonesty :
A single picture
One linear note
And no deviation.

I want to understand human purpose ;
The doubtless impaired devotions that deviate from
‘The Human Idea’
There’s something ‘recovered’ that persists in each life
yet
in each life
it is usually
quashed habitually
These purposes are mused from off of the makings of our lives
and
when applied
can become true
unearthed work
a driven propulsion
a ‘*******’ or offering to the ‘Creator Idea’
a truth of an individual view
or
at least
some sort of an approximation.

moment met
awful mounts familiar
an umbilical knell
wrench away
             from any flare up of communication
                                 any trail that could form
                                                 saliva stretched
                                     from our shared space
                                                            and span


away
before a diseased gut rebinds us

like the tide withdrawn
a farming hamlet
passes
from a shared day of labor
to face solitary scrutiny
under the night-full eye of slumber

beyond the sown fields lies a thick forest ...

snare is sprung
flesh from the forrest fruit
the humming drum
         of its fright
an untamed meat
          struggles like the life
wirey noose tightly
wrist hook and thumb
ridden to bone
energy shrugged
        in fits of the struggle
defeat
     and then the meat
        is untenanted

down to the river
to wash my hands free
of another sots mud

i relieve my lies in the bushes
i shrug acts
           lax from my shoulders
bathe off soft data

merely a being
and that is all

solved

everything has changed  and you ?    a stranger for it
                   rapid construction with matter   en vogue or on hand
         and you flirt thru   a portfolio of guest incarnations
                                                    ­      like a japery
we experiment with death   when we (breath-catches-breath)
       recreate this fast
                         and disregard  past experience

Course splinters as I brush my hair.
I deal with my brittle armor
One external body plate at a time
I rub on layers of oil
And stand in a warm place
I try to cure the tough weathering of my proceeding age
But this is just maintainance
And now this morning task is done
It's time to turn my mind to the rust of the day
And the leaves from off of the list
At designated times I shall take my pellets
Bend my limbs
And take a rest for the energy
Then quiet my stirrings
And return to the excercises of a daily span
Bed to a bed
And all the focuses accordioning inbetween

(#15)

threadbare feline
retreats under my porch
cold Autumn rain falls
integrating my soul
part of a greater sadness

EXT - SUMMER NIGHT - THE INCLOSED COURTYARD OF A CONDEMED HOUSING BUILDING

I'm on a balcony on the third floor. I'm on my own. It's my first time trying Salvia. It's a mild form. The experience lasts approx 10 mins. I feel timid and tired afterward. It took strength not to leave my position on the balcony over the railing.

one
piggy
leisure-head of communication /
a detritus of S.O.S.
and a true wealth of emotion sickness /
fell us
by what we ‘really’ feel

an ultimate distraction
a played out interaction /
a begging
grippy
porous surface
encouraging corruption
and strategic duping

our code made bare
and fashionable /
a disposable plaque
of bereavement and humour /
the human mission splayed /
a vulnerable apparition /
a haunting with a weak attachment
and a confectionary
hiding the culture

all sky up on the mighty
begging of your own boundaries
heady with the ego

you present leadership
insecure
in a blunt tottering charge

an unfastened distraction
fear dominated
  and flinging fear
   as a sense blunting weapon
  scattering the people
cleaving them confused
polarized and susceptible

the absence   of unnatural electricity
        operating
canvas of silence
vast license  given to the imagination

i write this litter to you
this **** of determination
to pile upon what went wrong
between the you and us
and the wash that lapped oily over us

these pickings form these words
and riddle this confusion
i intended this as a cleansing incineration
but didn't tack
into account
the polluting smoke
a signal pointing us out
for the investigation of others
they see only the ugly pillar
and smell the plastics
and melting paints
and consider our whole deal
vile and criminal
they see none of what an aura
we once created

that's now a scrap
i try to net and haul

two barks don't make a bite
but
it takes two dogs
to make a dogfight

life is ...
          strangled

much is laid out
          to shuck 'stragglers'
               and fetter the 'off kilter'

passive weeding ?
               or bleeding with medicinal leeches ?

there is a structure facing inward
people making unkind demands of one another
a fussing
a fusing of their time made 'important'
a holding bond
   alluring and repulsing
                  maintaining a close hovering gap
in the name of a darkly compromised species dream

unkempt drey
a winter white bone tree of lungy dew
grey squirrel in an urban way
curious for shelter
checks out the drey
      and scuffs about
      but the scruffy drey
      falls into its pieces
     (in spring to decay)
the creature is left
      startled
      grappling for a purchase
      and a posture of dignity

multifaceted
not fool
not madness
crash water in your morning face
select your character in front of the gaper
harness the void in your recess
and begin the act that voices the business ;
the   trade   that   will   be   this   day ;
the interaction,
the fist and the currency

my eyes are heady    **** bloating
                                       from within the sun
       white embellishment lasers out  
                  lending provision
     setting life   to the organic cog and clock
provoking muted growth  to retch a bloom
              leading
                                     ­ spending
                                                       ­         seeding

my tread  destroys nothing
each step    frictionless  
patterning little hovering eddies
                              a fraction above ground
minimal is my disruption
enough    only to promote a deeper observation
    tender fanning     of the life that i am fawning over

how to feel this spritely at all times ?   t'would be a spell
                                                 a fondled thing

         it’s from our night of shared tether
our infection threw out an extra pleasurable souvenir
it carried its energy    into the ensuing day

i am launched affection
beckoned     into the true employment of my surroundings
carrying my socks and shoes in one hand
and my heart?  it is a possession of the senses
i am truly led
i am emitting