The matter
Energy
Condensed
I often think
Can't be fixed
Can't be true
Like
If you moved
Too suddenly
Bits
Would fall
Off of you
Catch physics
Off guard
And nature
Falls apart
And once
We all see it
Everyone
Disintrigates
Hard.

Wonder round the back
Have a look
What you think we lack?
Years of lacklustre
Maintainence
Leave
Crumbling
Ramparts
Open
To
Attack.

The quickshot 2
In 1983
Seemed
An impossible development
Between you and me
Instead of mashing buttons
Or the stiff Atari
This fighter pilot ****
Was the best form
Of alarming.

If April is cruel
On account
If it's promise
Unfulfilled
Tell that to
Multiple
Meteor storms
Strong willed.

When they state
You can't see the wood
For the trees
Do they mean
What they're made from
Or where they live?
Makes a bit of
A difference
To the response you give
Is it covered it bark?
Or lost in the crowd?

Got my mojo working
Quite proud of myself
There were scant instructions
In the box
Some assembly required
Took me awhile
Was aware of the ticking
Of clocks
But there now it stands
Complete
By my hands
It's humming
There's a pulsating
Green light
Now what comes next?
Just strange drawings
No text
To use it
Might require
Second sight.

Pulling lumps
Out of my neck
Like a knackered
Teddy bear
In the teeth
Of a puppy.

They told you
Why you did it
But still
You disagreed
You wanted to be punished
You begged
Upon your knees.

The ingredients
So cold
And drunk
So quick
There was no need of ice
Upon this Hellship.

The tickle of the scale
On the fiddle
Up the spine
Applied just right
Is the
Massage divine.

I'm going on to write
Not to see who thinks I'm great
I'm going to write
Not to

AI ***** everywhere
Bin doin it meself
Why should we care?
More soak
And absorb
Than insertion
Will the precision
Of the tech
Ever hit the
True description
Of the spark?
Wether
Devine or not?
But one
That compels
Deep felt connection
To the heart.

You are now
What I don't know
Haven't known for awhile
Ignored its steady flow
Into the bay
It washed out the salt
And the silt
And the sludge
Rearranged the sea floor
The bits that would budge
And then
Gulf streamed away
Up to the arctic
Thought that this
Might be a
Bit more cathartic.

George c Scott
Tells his mega smart
Dolphin to go away
To stop the Feds
Making him plant bombs
Steve McQueen
Has to shoot his best friend
To end his torture
In the sand pebbles
Christopher Reeves
Sees the the coin
That sends him back
To the future
Away from his love
No one does
Stylised sadness
Like the movies
Your eyeballs
You'll rub.

That scene in breaking bad
Jessie's been
Relentlessly listening
To his dead girlfriends
Outgoing message
For weeks on end
On a loop
In a tunnel
He sought to pretend

Mid cycle
The provider
Cuts it off
Replaced with
A tinny ersatz ladies's voice

The number you have called does not exist

About one of the loneliest
Depictions that I have seen
I felt my vertebrae tighten
The sadness obscene.

Time's flywheel
Captures your wasted ergs
And doesn't give em back
It sends them elsewhere
Out there
Acrackling
Down the track.

Lay on an open hill
On this strong
Autumn morning
The warmth
And the light
Both exciting
And calming
Place a big green leaf
If you can still find em
Over each eye
And go back to reclining
Let the light
Hit the flesh
And filter through
To your own
Feel the history
Of Earth
You
And you
Alone.

He's got you in his teeth
It's worse for him than you
Cos when he dies
From the absess
You can simply push on through
Out the mouth
Out the prison
Out into the light
Don't look back
Just walk forward
Everything
Will be alright.

They pulled up
The alabaster floor
And sold it to the Greeks
So finely levelled
Perfect
For bas relief
The British later
Swept them off to London
Along with
Other purloined stones
Rose granite
And
Corundum
I hope they get em back
The return I applaud
Of course then
They'll  have to
Wipe em clean
And swiftly relay the floor.

When your *****
Smell like
A fresh roasted chicken
All piquancy
And salt
And something
Indefinable
Something not your fault
And thy *******
Like a struck match
That can't be carbon dated
Fear not
You're just drinking
In the fair old city
The two
Deffo related.

Please don't
Run me off the alpine
Winding mountain road
As soon as
I leave the tarmac
My sports car will explode
To tumble
Orange and red
Through the
Snowy pines
Seventie's movies
Taught me this
Time after time.

It was a springboard
To your reign
Though
It ended up in pain
As your eyes widened
At the realisation
That the deep pool
Had been drained.

Prozzies and poets
Get paid to ****
In public
Well
That's not really true
No one on here
Is getting paid
A good chunk
Also
Not getting laid
More akin to
Gonzo **** then
You recorded it
And Now
It's out there
In the world
Defiant and empowered ?
Or
Just Feeling a bit wierd?

Have you got enough
Till morning?
Enough
To make you sleep?
No dreams though
That's the trade off
Classified as
Sweet relief
From the
Drone and the roar
The pitch and the yaw
Nothing but
Restorative  slumber
Way past the dawn.

Of course
Eventually
Everyone gets used to hell
Insufferable torment
Deep in the infernal well
The problem is the timescale
And Satan knows it's true
The ones condemned
The earliest now tolerate it
Eternity through
But he's not worried really
To technology he aspires
What with nano devices
And the promise of AI.

A journey of a thousand miles
Starts with a single cough
Well it does
If it starts early morning
Followed by
A couple of hundred more.

When art
Drugs
And self importance
Collide
You know there's going to be
At least one poor innocent
*******
Who pays
With their life
Barrymore
Doherty
Aligs club kids
Spread deadly chaos
And didn't give a ****.

The Tupperware lifted
Back to celestial cupboards
The leaves humming not
Just a couple of rustles

The sky a diluted icy blue
Dressed for the coming season
Nothing new

Laid out
Like some holy meal
You can almost taste the pale azure
That's how it makes you feel

Brittle sharp
And somewhat lethal
Edges get dulled
By soft soft clouds
For us poor mortals
Us poor people.

Could this be the rain?
The sky seems dark enough
Could this be the rain?
In the still
Of near midnight's hush
The clouds
Grab the bright full moon
And drag it away
Over the curvature
So we might have
A new day.

If arses were elbows
Should they swap places
The problem remains
One of identification

I see it's Eazy E's birthday today
I'm reminded of that biopic
The bit about his
Final moments
I remember
In the picture house
His hospital bed
Harshly lit
Puts you back
In all them rooms
With all them beeps
And all them drips.

Someone once called it
Tupperware weather
Wherein
The island
Seems To have been covered
By a gigantic inverted
Semi opaque
Plastic food bowl
It's like that today
Grey Sunday swirl
No rain yet
But it's coming
The leave's rustle
Becomes a humming
The bird's chirps
Take on
A concerned tone
From bright enquiries
To scared entreaties
Periods of calm
So fleeting
As vortices
Darkly form beneath
The dome.

Take yer coat off
You won't
Feel the benefit
I was told many times
As a kid
Wonder if that's true
We do an experiment
In terms of
Trapped layers
Of heat.

Ice cold water
Hitting
The driest of throats
Keep it coming
Filled with dread
For when it will
Run out.

Crook and flail
Guide and whip
The ancients
More up front
With it
Move the herd
To greener pastures
Or whip em hard
To avoid disaster
Some saw the flail
Symbolic
Of fertile land
Whatever you say
We quite understand.

Infinite complacency
Unchecked technology
What needs to be
Is what will be
Aerial warfare
To the fore
He died
A year after Hiroshima
Must have broke his heart
To be so right.

He crafted the world's
Most beautiful violin
It was also
The worst sounding
How could this have happened?
The difference
Both
Crushing
And astounding.

Electronic Christmas
Began in  81
Obviously earlier
For some
Binatone
Was the one
46 games predicated
On tennis and such
The first one got played
The rest not so much.

He got dragged
Out of a crack house
To go to his dad's funeral
They took turns
Proping him up in the church
They made him
Have Communion.

When the spiders set up shop
In your Torus
And build you a shade
For your light
It's something it's always needed
But you've never done it
Coz you're *****.

I'm  never doing it again
I 'm not doing this time
This is the last time
Im doing it
It's a bit of a shame really
It's the only thing
Im fluent in.

The nature
Of all
Your jotting
And where it gets
Revealed
Seems like
A chocolate orange
Left on
Chrimbo Eve.

You don't have to go home
But you can't stay here
Do your talking
While you walking
Drink thy beer
Be gone
Beyond my sight
And my ear.

If the wind
Follows your heels
Is it moving you round?
Or does it find you
Irresistible?
Prepared
To wander
The ground.

When you
Trapped in triangle
The default
Is to panic
The chance to escape
Down to
Terrible angles
Bounce sharp
And hard
Off of
Acute dense sides
Then sink
As pulp
As gravity
Revives.

I bought a Labrador puppy
And he grew disloyal
There's limits!
He seemed to growl
Sided with my enemies
Stymied my plans
And so
It seemed his distain
Grew stronger by the hour
He's plotted with the pigeons
Connived with the crows
They form a pincer movement
And close in
Is this the end
Do you suppose?

Bad gateway
Bad gateway
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad gateway
Bad gateway
Bad gateway
For you.

The drawing in of Michael
The rubbing out of Sunny
The emptiness of Fredo
Three brothers
On the money.

God speaks to me
You can't say he doesn't
There's nothing down for you
Nor none of your cousins.

When you enter a glade
That stretches
Far and wide
Strewn with
Glacial erratics
Left there by times tide

If they be laced heavy
With moss
Then tread
Careful there
For that is
Earth's calendar
Beyond
Human care.