I tried to be positive
And it's hard seen as everything dies and turns to dust
But at least
Every second
Is a new second
And I don't know what it will bring me

When the sage points to the moon
The idiot watches the finger
And we
Simply use the finger to gouge out each others eyes

I had an outer body experience in a lift
While I was throwing up in the corner
I was suddenly the reporter behind me
Looking at a young Nietzsche
Sick and tormented by Wagner's ring in Bayreuth
But this didnt really happen
Because I imagined the reporters
And I didn't throw up
I was only a bit sick at myself
For seeing this
Going up to the 5th floor
In the lift

Half the poems on here
Are oversentimental love poems
Written by sobbing little girls
About boyfriends
Heartbreak
Flowery and and stinking of perfume
While the boys are on pornhub
On the **** section
There is a divergence

A hero
Who talked people out of suicide
At The Gap
A Cliff known for multiple suicide attempts
He served In the navy
And particularly a battle that ended the war
His family claim that he saved over 500 lives
They called him "the Angel of the Gap"

I just found out that the ******* was a life insurance salesman
Check your silver linings for clouds

You are reading a poem
And with most poems
You need to pay attention
So that you don't miss anything
You might even need to re-read a line or so
But don't worry
Not this one

Thank you
for giving me something to hate
because otherwise
my mind would turn to black holes
and that shot of the earth from the Apollo mission
and how much darkness there truly is

Chaos is my North Star
My god
Because it is only through chaos
That we can burn down the underbrush and weeds
Of old ideas
Old systems
Bureaucracies and impediments
And plant
Hyacinths of truth
But then again
Ask me about all this
When I am 49

Everywhere I go
People try to be my bro
but ive been toughened
by abandon
by solitude
and where some see a neighbour
i see an anchor
and its sad
but i dont have the energy for everyone
and i have to be selective
but then it happens to me
and i howl at the wind

I catch glances
As I walk through town
Daughters
Out with their mums
Who pretend to look off in the arbitrary distance
As I scan them
From top
To toe
And then the glances of their proud mums

Old women who huff
As I have the demeanour
Of a stargazing ******

The odd freak
Who cheers me on with his eyes

Machos, who like to hold the gaze
Which I like to hold right back
Thinking of my father in a coffin
To return a calm, worrying stare

Sometimes a fleeting beauty will appear in a metro window
And both knowing of the ephemerality of our encounter
We **** with our eyes
Before she is whipped off
Down the dark tunnels

I can hold a gaze with almost anyone
People are fascinating

I can hold all these gazes
Until
Some men stare back
And I melt

Is a stock character

“My mama used to say that America's the big melting ***. You bring it to a boil and all the **** rises to the top”

The Berlin wall is rubble
The invisible hand plays our symphony
CEOs are 4 times more likely to be psychopaths than the general population
And I can't see any humanity
Please cut uni fees.

I leave Victoria
And 'Green Fields' by The Brothers Four comes on shuffle
And buildings crumble
London deconstructs
A primal forest laps at the southern service
As it flees to a coast populated by leviathans and krakens
The concrete suburbs fade to green fields
Kissed by the sun
And in that
I thought I saw you
Until the clinking train tracks reminded me of our slavery
And of the ticket collector
Tapping on my shoulder

There was human hair
On the floor of the metro
How did it get there?

Shot nerves
I need a girl
But you disgust me
Why can I not
connect?

This gap
I’m right in front of you
But it’s so wide

I have charm
I can make you smile
I can make you growl
for more
But I don’t want to

Glad to be unhappy?
Fasting subconsciously?
Maybe i'm happy with a missing piece
What future pleasure is there to be had
from a finished jigsaw?

O, mother
I can feel
The soil
Falling over my head

If you miss a beat
You create a new one
**** metre

Genius
I follow the canyons you have dug
Following the bottom path
Looking up at the high water mark
knowing that i will never reach
Trudging on and on in your shadow
The goal is visible
Although an invisible spec that i will never reach in the time i have

So
At some point
I stop
Clamber over the edge
And stare at the wrinkled surface of my life
Which is riddled with the long
Short
Deep
And shallow paths of other men
Which path will i choose next?

There is a time for speed stream of consciousness jack Kerouac **** and there is a time where you are so close to realizing there is no meaning of life you need K to turn your life into a symbolist poem. On k you feel like le bateau Ivre, on k all your thoughts are symbols blurted out at a volume which makes you loose your voice the next day. All the stupidity and everything you hate about anything is celebrated in a New Orleans funeral style dance on your tomb way. Your life becomes open source to a whole new creation in front of your very eyes. Spasticus autisticus.

The cause
You stand for
Breathe for
Live for
Fight for
**** for
Isn’t there
You’re just using it to get others on your side
Be it
God
Freedom
Equality
The ideal isn’t achievable
We have yet to meet god
We have yet to be free from ourselves
We have yet to live without greed
So you are just allowed
To keep on going
In power
With no clear finish line

Quesque'il faut pour ce cœur tourmenté
C’est une femme, une ancre à laquelle s’attacher
Cette femme, un fantôme qui trouble mon sommeil
n’est jamais à mon côté quand je me réveil

Je me gaspille tout seul en faisant rein.
Doucement vient la vieillisse, la peur, le chagrin.
La cure se trouve dans la femme parfaite
qui sait trouver l’ancien ordre et le remettre

Une tache de merde aura cette pauvre femme.
Sans grand chose en échange, balayer mon âme
Pour trouver son ancienne splendeur
Obscurci par le temps et la douleur

Cranes accuse the sky
As people swarm like ***** in
A ******* jungle

Its been years now
That she hides the bruises on her cheeks
With cheap concealer
To hide the violence of which her marriage reeks

It's been years now
That he wakes up every morning
And looks down at her skin
And feels nothing

His affection comes in spells
Ten minutes generally
Hers is well long gone
A speck you cannot see

They don't have love for each other
So why don't they just leave?
I guess this world's kind of lonely
For something to be worth this much grief

Discarded and disheartened
Torn, stamped and pushed away
I sit and think, bruised and broken
But what is there to say?

I should of known it wouldn’t work
I could have seen the signs
But I can’t decipher your silence
And I still can’t read your mind

But you haven’t broke my heart
Merely left a splinter
So thanks for having been here
My warmth through the cold winter

I was happy on the train last night
On my own in the clinic white light
With earphones in and eyes closed
I smiled

Stewing in my loneliness, warm
With the country unraveling, free form
I couldn’t explain why and that was why
I smiled

I counted my problems and found four
Realized they didn’t matter anymore
Because time was on my side
I smiled

Zipping past personal dramas
Speeding past sleeping farmers
Coming back home to my bed
I smiled

I took the long way home that night
Stepping under multicolor street light
Got home and gazed and the ceiling
I smiled

Writing a poem
Is like having a ****

Too many **** poems
About not being able to sleep
Wide awake
Open eyes
Sweat
And thoughts
The usual ****
Why not talk about the thoughts?
It’s like writing a story about a pen
Or painting your brush

At the cross roads
Down on my knees
If you love me Jesus
Wire me some money

Dank to think I can sort out my woes
Cause? : the bitter scratch of time
Stronger than the thoughts of man
A healing flow, sublime.

I’m more right than Maggie
The masters bigwig voice
They just drool to make me a tool
But I have a choice

Really on my own here
All made of stars
The commute and infinity
The universe and cars

Four walls follow wherever I go
Maybe I created these four walls?
Could the collective of humanity
dream past the halls of fools

Mighty moloch man eater
You furnace of society
Guzzling skeletal men
Chained by bureaucracy

The aliens looked at earth
And its civilisations
Like we see mayflies
And their small streams
And they looked at civilisations
Wax and wane
On a small blue marble
And one said
"Shall we stop it?
That agar plate has gone a bit out of hand"
To which the other replied
"No, they'll tire themselves out eventually"

Whatever the ******* want it to be...
Unless you don't want it to be.

And it's a train coming

Tim Hecker
And crowds
A match made in heaven
Earphones in
I glide through the crowds
Each glitch becomes
The next person (a glitch in nature)
Each hush
Becomes a waft of permafrost air
And the rhythm blends in with a thousand feet and faces
Elements become
Hustlers
Bourgois ladies and their little dogs
Stern old men
A lost looking child
Or
Those two girls - restrained by mall security

People try to untangle my expression
I am euphoric
I am exalted
By my music video
Playing just for me
Here
Now

I'm beggining to like these people
I hope the music doesn't wear off

Torn in half and cut in two
Searching or lost
Depends on point of view

Needing to be complete
We search on
Fight and compete

No wonder so many combinations don’t fit
For lovers and perfectionists
Too much choice to claim that that one is 'it'

I am ready now
In whichever form you come
To love you truly

That you love me back
Is my only condition
O perfect lover

They say
Have common sense
Be perceptive and analytical
Be careful
Be reasonable
Be moderate
But a deficiency of all those
Is love

Sitting in room 203
And can't sleep
Sitting upright
Staring at the door
With unfocused eyes
Imaging true love on the other side
For so long
That I can almost picture it
I edge towards the door
Just in case
Turn the handle
And sear it

Smoke bursts through
And crackling flames invade the room
I choke on the fumes
The hotel is on fire
I guess I was right

Oh god
If you are up there
You better have a good explanation
As to why I need to *******
To get to sleep every night
And why
You put those things in my dreams
And why
Good people die and **** get rich
And why
You created beautiful people
To laugh at subnormals
It all seems quite unfair

Send me a blonde
And we'll call it quits ey

Drum Gold
Is my tobacco
It has character
And I had a girl once
Who liked Cutters Choice
And I told her it had more additives
And that it burnt hotter
And that Drum Gold had more character
And we spent nights exploring each other's bodies
And smoking Drum Gold
Which she adopted
But that ended
Like all good things
And I've forgotten a lot of those spent nights
And now she smokes Golden Virginia

As the black girl in front of me leans into the window
I wish I had a camera
Her reflection is forming a double exposure
Of her sad eyes
On a background of fleeting metro lights
Next to me some girl gets slapped
And is then restrained by an old man as she claws after her attacker
There are two Japanese tourists
They seem disappointed
Some guy is staring at me
And tries to nod a bit when I look back
There is also this kid with pale white hands
Half asleep and hiccuping into his lap
Looks like he might throw up at any moment
And in the midst of all the arbitrary existence
I'm sat looking at the sad black girls reflection
And a kind of perfection forms

You're going to die
But there's a list of the 30 best cat selfies on buzzfeed
Something is going on in Ukraine, or is it Venezuela?
But it's ok...
Sherlock is back on
And you haven't finished Game of Thrones yet
God is a twisted sadist if he exists at all
But you have some notifications on Facebook
Don't think,
Just pick up the phone and play Flappy Bird
Let the feelies get to those thoughts that creep in

The revolution wasn't televised
It was tweeted
And its auto-tune remix went viral the next day

Your anatomy laid bare for me
Your silhouette in the dim light
And other things that can make a good man
Unreasonable

Door closed
Locking out the perfect faces on the billboards
Shielding two more from the broadcasts of unobtainable lifestyles
As our souls speil, soar and reel in the dark
As we descend into the milky cosmos
As the space between two sheets is filled with love

Too many people write about love
without being right about love
Full of
yet tight on their love
Spewing
an echo of flowery 19th century poetry
When the real love
is a point of view
It's looking back on that girl you hated 5 years back
with a new eye
It could just be a cat purring in your lap
It could be a warm fireplace
or a ******* you gave in Chiang Mai
It could be the ocean
or it could be that time when you collapsed in a gutter in New Orleans
and you lay in the trash
but looked up at the stars

Me and my brothers
We are raised tall and defiant
We are rallied and railed against
An apathetic world at which we spit
We spiel our ululations to the night sky
Our candles burn at both ends

We rise to get broken
Here comes ocean
Icarus wouldn't be a legend
If he hadn't aimed for heaven

I am tired of the Americans chasing their opaque neon dream
I am tired of well tailored speeches justifying wars
I am tired of the dusty remnants of a roman lie striking fear into the hearts of many
and an absent god forcing his framework on an apathetic world
and I am tired
I am tired of constipated museums
and the few dictating the sonic landscape of the many
I am tired of horse meat scandals and frenzies over crashed planes
and I am tired
I am tired of globalisation being an auction for the lowest human rights
rather than being
wasabi peas at Tescos
And sleep is the cowardly death
of the feelies and TVs of the world

I used to turn up late
I used to take the long way home
I used to stay up in ecstasy or agony until the first lights of day
But I woke up today and found myself trapped
By the 6:45 alarm
By a bowl of Musli
By brushing my molars
By the No. 27 bus
By my desk chair
Colleagues
Targets
And slowly you smile
And nod
As they take you away
From yourself
Somehow

If you want to cross a sea
Sink

Night bus
And the pug nosed guy in the suit over there
Staring me down
Is a thousand broken dreams
And the young girl down there
Who looks weird
But my kind of weird
Is a thousand unexplored
And the ***** with the cap trying to finish off his crossword
Is Gil Scott-Heron
And no one sits next to me as I spill my poison through the keypad into a cracked screen

Glassy eyed and
Lost in utilitarian cities
With a low-yielding love
And a useless imagination
With the bad art
And the public transport seat pattern blues

And the radio did play
As you sank deep into your chair
With eyes that said
Let the robots take over
Then the grass
Then the fire
Over and over

I remember through the haze of Hong Thong and Thai Stick
Our sterile love
In that shabby hotel
In Chiang Mai
Our stubble
Like Velcro
And I don't remember much else
Wasting away
Here
It's funny how you forget things
It's also crushingly sad

Grindin'
With the cogs
In Moloch
When we could be diving for pearls