Like spit in the fire
Like seed in the snow
******
And a solemn me

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

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

On monday
I will have to brush shoulders
with artless people
in an artless world
but for now
I have Songs from a Room
and Dave Bixby
and the stumbling hours of a Sunday afternoon

When I drink
My third eye
Weeps

Life is like the M25
Circular and eternal
Covered in tarmac
With little skid marks
And Little Chefs
Life isn't really like the M25
Nothing is really like anything

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

If you want to cross a sea
Sink

I am by the sea
And I have left behind
A girl too good for me
And the sea swells to my libido
As it crashes on the earth
And bruises the sky
And you could write a masterpiece here
Or you could just try to forget

Kids in states
In estates

When you go from being a producer to a consumer
everybody knows
you’re going to have to dance to the producers beat
you
CONSUME
education
you
CONSUME
your
individual style
you
CONSUME
yourself
because you are
a brand

I don’t know about those pastoral scenes
Those bucolic and primordial endless greens
Unspoilt trees and murmuring streams
I know the concrete and the pavement
Uneven cobblestones with cracks in them
With dandelions growing through
Only sometimes

I love the later more
I’m in love with the concrete behemoths
The back alleys of life
The gnarled bouncers (unreciprocally)
The curious glimpses at weathered flyers on the floor
I love the sterile street lights and the worn faces ILLUMINATED by them
The ushers and hustlers and cautious taxis
The drunk geniuses
The night-swimmers
The nudists
The opinionated
Etc

Yet life whittles down these loves for that of the
Calculable
The
Regimented
And
Controllable
Etc

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

Alone on a mattress
Next to my ideal love
That one in the head
(S)he's a shape shifter
And always fits in neatly
With my lunacy

"I want to write the last banned book"
You used to say
And you bullied people with your words
Your ability for words
Your way with words
But you never read the silent people
Who couldn't find the words
That you used so liberally
You never tried to translate their
Solitude and turmoil
And you ended up writing
Some of the many
Forgotten
Strings of words

I Love my baby
But my baby is bi
She loves me too
And girls on the side

I dont know what made her
Live through this dichotomy
Maybe it's her DNA
Or maybe society

My foot
on the small of your back
Your lips
at the foot of my ****
We rise
and fall
together

I knew you well
And I can picture you right now
On your own
In your room
With only your beauty
And be pretty sure that you are just there
On your own
With only your beauty to keep you company
*****
And writhing miserably
Sometimes
But not mostly
And I'd have liked you without your beauty
But you are there now
On your own
With only your beauty
But your beauty was nothing in the end
Really

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

Threadbare and naked
Shattered in ruins in front of you
Cold trembling leaves of your autumn
To my naive spring
Here
All I ask
Is for your limps
To unhinge
For you
To let me in
For me
To loose myself
To you
For however long
That may be
Take this longing from my tongue
And all the useless things these hands have done

My best friend was a dog called Hermes
And he's long gone
And a wise man once said
That love is a dog from hell

There's only one kind of normal
But infinite types of weird

Lacklove and manless in Moloch
Vile ******* in Moloch
Moloch
In whom I set disinherited
Dispirited
Listing to Arvo Pärt
As civilisations wax and wane around me
As towers are raised to the sky
Left to rot
Then lived in
As the furnaces of the world whirr on incandescently
And as I try to use long words to make it all seem better
And as words finally fail

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

Big words
Don't make for big feelings

You may win the rat race
But you will still be a rat

The man who had all the time in the world
For whom the clocks stopped ticking
Didn't know what to do with himself
And soon enough
Not an amount of time you can measure
But soon enough
He prayed for death
And to have less time

The baby
Who was born with all knowledge in his head
Went straight for the razor
And cut this whole thing short

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

The moon is half full tonight
My spleen is twice as big tonight
And in my horniness
I hope for a nondescript passerby
To knock on my door
And wrestle the sadness away with me
No questions asked
But no one comes
And I wonder how many others feel so hopeless tonight

Something interesting happened today
I stitched the pansexual symbol
To the back of my denim jacket
And went into town
Most people didn't get it
But a few did
And their jaws hit the ground
And that made it worth it

Every morning
I shoot through miles of tunnel
In a rattling tram
And people have forgotten how to look out of the window
At the fleeting lights
Which highlight
The graffiti
Which highlight
The primordial urge to create
Which has morphed
From the cave paintings of bison
To territorial pissings
Of equal splendour

People try to avoid eye contact
Look at their shoes
And everyone wears a shade of blue or brown
Blandly coupled with something black
But I stare at the tortured faces
Dominated by Moloch
Who is slowly branching his tendrils around my ankles
And I try to guess their stories

There is genuinely a poem on here
Called "My love for you is Like Violin Dubstep"
And it's fine that people don't read my ****
If it's the people behind such artless crap

I remember through the haze of Hong Thong and Thai stick
Our sterile love
In that shabby hotel
Our stubble
Like Velcro

And I don't remember much else
Wasting away on my own here in Paris

If you want to love,
Knock your head with a rock
Until you are blind
To blaring truth

I can sense a great sadness in you
You may wrap a large jacket around your shoulders
And curl up into a ball at night
But the sadness shines through
The tight ball
And the large jacket
You bring it with you to the streets
And you cut slices of it off for the people you talk to

I hope that one day
The cork
Holding it all in there
Pops out

I saw the germ seed of civilisation
In the metro today
Between Châtelet and St. Michel
It was stuffy
And the ones already in
Made it hard for others to get in
We formed a barricade
Made it look more stuffy
Than it was
Then tutted
Or rolled eyes when others tried to get in
There was a brotherhood
Even though all we had shared
Was the journey
Between Châtelet and St. Michel

These French keyboards
Have the n's and m's all mixed up
And you end up typing
Facebook.con
I like these French keyboards

Last night you saw past my front
And we connected
Eye to eye
Arms around torsos
Tongue in cheek
(My tongue in your cheek)
Right there
Revelling in the stupid jeers
And cartoon smirks
Unified
As one
Just like they sell it it the **** movies and flowery poetry

Except this didn't really happen
Because I am here on my own
Thinking that death isn't that bad after all
It's the approach
That's terrifying

Do you get angry
When others
Don't abide to your moral code?
Because we all have one
And no one is right
From mother Theresa to Charles Manson
And then we die

We stood infront of each other
Ripping off chunks of flesh
Mixed with matted hair
We gouged eyes
Struck bone
Tore strips of skin
As pools formed at our feet
And kept going
Clawing at cartiledge
Pulling at intestines
Until we got to the core
And we were both bare
That was our love

I'm doing good now
Settled down
With wifi
A phone
A house
A good amount of food
I've stopped smoking
And taken up jogging again
And there is no one on my horizon

But I can't ******* write

If you say I sound bitter
Well,
I'm not your baby sitter
I can't tell you that Eden awaits in the clouds
That the perfect one
Is out there
And so forth

We have to sift through the shadows
To find the light my friends

As I dip my rod
In a vat of excrement
I wonder
What made me
like this?

A mess of thighs and hair and love
We ******
For the same reason
That kids throw rocks at the sea

The blues is hot on my heels
But if I keep travelling it stays a step behind
And if I drink and smoke it hides in the shadows
And sometimes when I listen to music
It invades me
And finds a good spot
And sits comfortably
For a while
But then it finds me again
Because man is made to suffer

We are born with the capacity to love everyone
To find anything sexually gratifying
We are conditioned otherwise
**** condition
Seek to deregulate
Seek to push
Seek to love

I am a little bit of everyone i have met
and i dont know
where you end
and i begin

build towers with your thoughts
and watch them crumble down
between chaos and order
balance can't be found

Yesterday
I heard a street preacher
Ask a man
If he had found god
And he replied
"I have money and health
I don't need god"
This struck me as very true
And
I wasn't sure who I hated more
Out of the three