Far on a lunatic sea, filled with tranquility and serenity, love and devotion, some flowers have made it their goal to bloom in purity,
Innocent looking, sweet and with a scent from amongst the heavens,
Tricking their foolish, mindless pray to come closer to them while seeping in spite and hatred, longing for revenge for their reflection,
A soft breeze accompanies the starlit sky, transient moonlight lurks through in a ghastly, bluish horizon as it rises to claim the heavens for his own once he had reached its fullest phase, ahh those phantoms,
Gone mad through a night full of punishment and bloodshed,
Before the petals can scatter in a dawning sky they seek for an intent,
Finally an attempt would be able to be made, a pity human draws near, weeping in sorrow and grief, causing them to shake excitedly
As then their roots would rush out of the ground and imprison him,
Twisted illusion of diversion, as they pierce through skin and bones, dragging his struggling, flailing body underground,remaining unseen
Feeding on his blood, using his corpse as a fertiliser they stay pure,
Moved for one instant, they dive deeper into the soil of this landscape
Hatred twines around them, causing disturbance in their memories,
It is alike to be left in an accelerating world of recurrance, everlasting,
Until the sunrise has dyed the sky in red and everything replicates

~ Umi

You're are the love of my life
The lyrics to the happiness of my life
The fertiliser to my joy
Paradoxically the more I look at you the more beautiful you become
I'm a mic You're my amplifier
You're the love of my life
The destiny to my journey
I will never leave you
So that I can have children like you
Because beautiful is the reflection of who you are
I look at your heart its written fragile
So I  will always handle you with care
You're are the love of my life
The antidote to my anger
You are my other half
Without you am incomplete
Your warm hugs feels like heaven on earth
Forever you are mine so am I
You're the love of my life
My jersey in winter
Words cannot completely describe my love for you
But always remember that I can die for you

They let me in the room with her and I walked without meaning to walk. It was bright with big windows covering the opposite wall looking out onto grass and a bed at a right angle to the light so that lying there she rested her chin on her left shoulder to gaze out and had to roll her head rightwards to see who came in. Walking as I was she got bigger and I started to feel her fear and only then did I realise that I was absolutely terrified and had been for a long time though I can’t say when it started. The room smelled sterile and smelled like a room you shouldn’t leave. It made you want to run but made you feel like you absolutely couldn’t; she wanted to run but politeness kept her sane.

She looked at me and it felt like when we met at a station or arrived by taxi and hadn’t seen each other in a while. Except this time we had seen each other but wouldn’t see each other for a while yet. Her eyes were filled with tears and she had a smile like she was happy and proud and surprised in her happiness but glad, and that it was all too much to bear. ‘Hi.’ her voice was stronger than I thought and I knew that I loved how she could be so full of emotion but still function and not collapse.

I couldn’t say anything but patted her with my hand. We both cried quietly. I started to feel I should be doing more and I wanted to tell her but now it all seemed lame and wrong and stupid. So I told her I loved her and I felt I was saying it to be strong and make her feel safe but of course I didn’t feel safe and I heard it as a squeak and more air than sound. I wanted her to say it and she did and her face was still proud but now also concerned but concerned for me and how I was and in a moment all this love turned to hate and then all I felt was shame that I would make her worry for anyone but herself and then blame her for it. It couldn’t end like this so I started to tell her and at first I fumbled and had to keep starting over but then I forgot where we were and even that she was there and I just felt what I wanted to feel and before I knew it I had said it.

‘Here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll cremate you. You’ll be ash. And… well ash is a great fertiliser. After a volcano the land regrows and the crops are full, for years they’re full. So I’ll take you, and--- remember when we went to the garden centre? You said we should get lilies and I said we would and I haven’t. Well I’ll buy some and I’ll take you… I’ll take you…and I’ll plant them and mix you in with the soil. I’ll mix you up with the soil and I’ll plant them and they’ll grow and… you’ll be in them. And I’ll look out and see them growing and know that you’re in them. And when they’re big I’ll pick them and smell them and put them in vases all around the house and I’ll always be with you. Because I love you so much. And you have to know that. I love you so much and I might meet someone but it won’t mean anything because they aren’t you, do you hear me? I will always think about you because you are my heart and you always will be. Do you understand? You have to know that because I’d want to know that, desperately; that not for a second will you be less important to me than you are right now.’

Only then I saw that whilst she was touched and she nodded and her face filled with yet more pride it was all show this time and maybe always had been and really she was just scared. I knew then that she was really only grateful that I cared so much to need her and that she didn’t really care if she was a plant and that was fine with me.

By the time the footsteps came we had fallen onto each other and were kissing clumsily because we were too busy crying but we were smiling with this painful relief that we weren't acting strong anymore when we weren't. And I had begun to feel excitement for some reason that this would all be over soon and I could go back although things would never really go back of course. But now this felt right and I was glad that I had told her.

The nurse came in the needle went in and she was gone. I saw I was walking and in the corridor and the moment I saw I fell in a stumble against the wall and slid and couldn’t feel a thing for all the shaking. I shook on the floor and wept and shuddered in sobs and no why did I leave I didn’t want to leave yet I wanted to be there with her but I can’t now she’s gone.

I looked around dumbly as people saw but couldn’t give what they thought they should because they were embarrassed or busy feeling. And I looked around for the family I knew wasn’t there because my family had been in that bed and now had faded along with my heart. I was sharp breathing and strange noises and that was everything for a while until someone helped me up and walked me around until I took my body back and walked to my car and went home and stared blankly at a door and remembered I’d forgotten something and went back to the car again to get lilies.

This is your day in the sun,
Your day of triumph,
Of commitment,
Of promise and intention,
Of New Beginnings,
The end of loneliness.
This is the new foundation,
The plying together of bricks and mortar
The bricks to give colour and shape,
The mortar to give structure and soundness,
So that together you are an impregnable fortress
With doors of heartfelt love,
Windows of vision,
Rooms of peace and generousity,
Furnishings of service and beauty,
And a garden of sweet memories to grow.
I wish you success at every turn,
Joy on every path,
Delight in all the little things of life,
Deeply rooted and vigorously sprouting shoots of loyalty and love
Nurtured on the fertiliser of experience and wisdom,
And
LONG LIFE TOGETHER!
with
very much love

the story of bobby bradysmith

you see bobby bradysmith is a little cool kid, but he was having a few problems

you see he had childhood schitzophrenia and said he was every star on the television

driving his family mad, and bobby screamed to his dad, why doesn’t anyone like me,

is it because i was mental and his dad started to get really worried, and decided to change his ways

but the other kids didn’t want this, you see they had fun with bobby, ya know teasing him

and bullying him, ya know the whole thing, and one kid named rodney spalms went up to

bobby and said, what’s that your like us, and bobby was really hyped up, saying, i am really one of you

and he said, yeah, as long as you don’t get in our way, you will be one of us, and bobby was happy

but unaware, what he meant by get in our way, but bobby decided to not worry about that while he was young

and decided to go home and watch all the television shows and black beauty and even icarly were two shows

he actually liked, and every time he went to the shopping mall, the young dudes said, whats that bobby, your like us

and even the rougher boys, and hooligans said, yeah yeah yeah, your like us, as long as you don’t get in our way

and rodney wanted to stay at home, as he turned off treating bobby like his kind because he was getting bashed up for it

which wasn’t  really bugging bobby, but still he heard rodney say these simple words, what’s that, your like us, about 100 times

and as bobby’s hormones were going wild, you see with the schitzophrenia in his system, his ***** erected looking at kids legs,

and i mean kids younger than him, well, this felt normal for bobby as his father was married to a younger woman, like all the men

in his family, but bobby was really getting a buzz asking the kid to come to him and grabbing his mouth and then looked at his legs

saying, he was the cool kid now and it happened again and again and bobby was a bully, making mothers and fathers mad, as soon

as their kids were grabbed by bobby, they ran to their parents and parents tore strips of bobby, and still he heard rodney’s voice saying

what’s that your like us, which made bobby grab a few kids at school as well as grabbing a few on their way to school, but still rodney said

what’s that your like us, me and you can be two bullies, bobby, how does that feel, and bobby was getting a buzz, going to the shopping mall

attempting to grab a few more kids, scaring them half to death, making men say, LEAVE MY SON ALONE ****, and bobby said neh,

and then he heard rodney saying, what’s that your like us, your not a mans kid bobby, i am going to get the whole mall crowd to tease you

if you keep it up, but your still like us, rodney said to bobby, as rodney rode his bike saying, you sit in there woosey bobby, your not a bully

or kidnapper, and if you keep it up, you will get prisoners saying what’s that your like us, and i will have power over your mind, to confuse you, ****-face

you see rodney will use his religious powers to make each prisoner say, what’s that your like us, but bobby’s father disagreed with this

and tried to get bobby into jobs he hates, to get his mind of kidnapping, but that only made it worst for bobby, because he lost his job and

took off to the fruit market and tied one 11 year old up to the toilet, now, bobby was scared, so he let him go, instead of leaving the kid there

to squirm, and he still heard rodney say, what’s that your like us, but really rodney hated him doing this to all the kids, and befriended him right away

and bobby only spent a weekend in the lock up, and got out of his jail sentence and placed on a psychiatric order, and he had to see a probation officer

and bobby was relieved and was ready to hear rodney say, what’s that your like us, but it faded away, and people said, instead, i am going to get you back,

for what you did to the kids, and this made bobby very scared, because, the reason why he committed these horrible offences, was because he had

schitzophrenia, which developed into adult schitzophrenia, and made bobby get bullied on the street and then go home and take it out on, his poor

old mum and dad, and bobby was thinking this was a game, but his parents wanted bobby locked away, because bobby’s dad spoke up for bobby in court

and still bobby to his dad, wasn’t very grateful, and fighting with them, every blasted day, and bobby wasn’t winning this battle, so he decided to do some

volunteer work at st vincent de paul, where he met francine, who was a really good helper and also has the gift to make anyone a good helper and bobby

started work there emptying the clothing bins and other man like jobs and then bobby asked francine, as christmas was fast approaching and bobby wanted to

apoligize to the city for his schitzophrenic behaviour of the past, by playing santa claus in the st vincent de paul, and showing kids he was a nice santa, well

a few kids told bobby he was a fake santa, and the mall santa was much better, but bobby’s medication made him handle that with care, and after 2 years

because the medication was making bobby nice to kids as santa claus, rodney’s voice was coming back in his head saying, i am very impressed with you bobby

you know playing santa to test you out, what’s that your like us now man, and bobby was handing a sweet to an older kid, and he said, i don’t want a lolly, i am an

older kid, i don’t believe in santa, and rodney’s voice was giving bobby delusions, which didn’t stop him from being santa, actually he went out on the street

and murdered a cat, and when the police caught bobby, his parents said, send him to the psych ward, and as bobby entered the psych ward, bobby immediately

thought, this was the gateway to heaven, and then rodney’s voice entered his head, saying, i am not mucking with the crazy person, and this made bobby scream

to get out of the psych ward, every time his parents left, and when bobby got out, he had delusions that there was a money tree on the internet, and the way

to get more money, is download a money tree fertiliser and also booked himself on a private jet to the USA, and every time he saw a crime or bad weather

he would write I WANT TO GIVE $456 TO SAVE THE WHALES, or something like that, and he started to get better and went back to vinnies to work

and play santa at the end of the year, this was something that bobby looked forward to playing santa every year, but bobby’s medication was forcing him

to look up to space, and being santa and going down to the coast was his only things he liked, and then in 2007, bobby started working at graythorne village

a place for the disadvantaged to live, and still played santa, actually, bobby took holiday leave to play santa at christmas to make the kids happy and then

in 2009, bobby got sick of this looking up, as his job prospects were going places, and asked the psychiatrist, and in about 3 weeks, they changed his medication

and the medication was giving bobby energy to run and at the end of the year, be a fit santa claus, and then a new boss came at st vincent de paul, and after

all the fun of getting kids photos, sitting on his lap, the new boss wanted to change so much, so bobby gave up his santa claus gig, and later on lost his job

in 2013, because he was losing his cool streak, he enjoyed playing santa, he enjoyed helping at graythorne village, and rodney’s voice came back in his head

saying what’s that your a crazy person, what’s that your a crazy person, and bobby yelled at rodney’s voice, on the side of the cars, and then bobby found another way

to keep sane, and that was write, write and more writing to make him feel cool, and now bobby goes to poetry slams and writing groups and theatre acting courses

bobby might not have a job at present, but the writing, stops him from straying from family life,

I AM BOBBY, HE IS BASED ON MY LIFE

Jeter ma gourme
Voilà ce que je voudrais faire
Et surtout la jeter avec toi
Et commettre ainsi mes premières frasques
Ou plutôt les secondes
Car j'ai oublié les premières.

Jeter sa gourme
Ce n'est pas se gourmer
Ce n'est pas un duel
C'est faire exploser sa pureté séminale
Et vouloir semer sa semence
Aux quatre vents
Mais moi ma semence telle une pivoine sauvage
Vole légère et virginale pour se blottir en toi
Te pénétrer, te fertiliser, ma méduse pélagique, à l'ombrelle bleue et rose,
Jusqu'aux derniers interstices
Accepte ma gourme, translucide et molle
Je ne la jette pas
Je te l'offre, cette efflorescence,
Je te la destine
Je te l'adresse dans tes eaux.
Je suis dans ma seconde jeunesse
Et je te prie de croire que cette gourme
Est un précipité pimenté de cheval, d'hippocampe et d'hippopotame
Même si elle n 'a rien d'un mastodonte.

Et non seulement je veux qu'elle te fertilise
Mais je veux que tu la goûtes
Et la savoure comme un bon bourgogne
Ou beaujolais nouveau
Je veux que tu t'en badigeonnes
Le corps et l'âme
Je veux que tu t'en maquilles
Les lèvres et les paupières
Et que ce fluide soit ta crème de beauté permanente.

Je veux que dans chaque café du petit matin
Une deux ou trois gouttelettes de cette gourme vienne sucrer ta journée
Et l'égayer de délicieuses bandaisons intimes
Et invisibles mais réelles
Lèche, prends, c'est de la tendresse liquide
De la chaleur liquide
De l'amour liquide
C'est ma cyprine à moi
Et comme je suis bavard et volubile
Je m'en sers pour t'écrire
En hiéroglyphes dont seule toi peut lire
Les encres sympathiques
Et je te dis :
Ma gourme t'aime maintenant
Ma douce, torride et brûlante Pelagia noctulica.

the fun times as a kid for brian allan from canberra




you see it was fun it was great, every single day

i went to the mall to muck around, and i heard

men calling me a great big ugly snout, oh yeah yeah, yeah mate yeah

and then i wore my screaming jets t shirt and i played my air guitar so much

and then i went home and did my washing, and i stunk of laundry powder oh yeah

and i came down to the mall and the young dudes said

welcome brian to the mall, welcome welcome welcome

and then i spoke to the music shop owner about all the latest music that he played

ya see young ronnie was asked by me to tie me up on my bed

i wanted that because of my previous life, yeah mate yeah it was soooo cool

and then i played with my mates, and chased brendan up the tree

and he said, brian, be a kid, don’t be an adult, oh no way

i said, fine as my brother was looking at me showing me what a starer looked like

i wanted to party, so i went into the pub and watched some kids playing pool

and they all sang the U2 song, mysterious ways, while i was watching

i didn’t really wanna stare so i went to the dance floor and put my body up to the gorgeous chicks

and we danced to songs like what’s love got to do gotta do with it

you see i went to this pub after spending some time playing computer games at the bowling alley

and then headed off saying men don’t do that, that’s what kids do, i might head to the pub

and i met some really cool kids, but i was a tad troubled because as soon as people

said go home, i said neh, i am still not ******* off mate

they used the words, ******* turk, so we can get on with our lives

and i said, i am still not ******* off mate, dad said, ******* coward

which forced me to tease my father heavily, but i didn’t wanna do that, it was the chemical in my f..n brain

like the chemical in my brain which forced me to listen to the kids say, what’s that, your like us

well, i might heard one kid say this, but, really i shouldn’t expect this

i like when people sing in groups, but dads not around anymore, the old hags dead, but i remember dad

said what’s that brian what’s that brian what’s that brian, i liked that, why did dad change

i liked the voices from mum, your like our fucken kids, but that was a voice from my brain chemical

i was having visions of my brother saying, you are like us, when i was on rampage on grabbing kids

but i didn’t want to do that, it was my crazy chemical in my brain

i want to find a cure for death, so i used my cronus belief to give brian allan the power to know dads next life

dad is betty campbell, i remember stealing some rope and tying myself up in a toilet and pretending to be kidnapped

i remember patrick, was my best mate, and as i entered the mall he clapped his hands saying

welcome brian welcome to the mall, i was the one that stopped kids tying themselves up on youtube, it was just me

i didn’t wanna be encouraged to tie the kids up, so i told websites to untie our youth, because it attracts phedaphiles, don’t ya think

you see in the wrong hands youtube is dangerous, and kids are only little, mind you, some kids can look after themselves

but i had to do that because kids were playing tie up games, which i used to play, but i don’t want kids copying me, but

it forces kids to get themselves into traps, and I SAVED THEM, WITH MY BARE HANDS

youtube is way cooler and i think FOXTEL really doesn’t have anything like youtube, and i remember in 2004 i said i go on the computer

and google a fertiliser press on it a number of times and instant cash from the internet money tree and i started hearing voices taking my helper away

ya see i had this poem i wrote, saying ….  teena totter teena totter 33 and there was this man from toastmasters trying to take my man as i was

sitting at the mall drinking a coca cola, i was being a reformed man, instead of beer, i drank coke, because when i was drinking i was a real terror

but it wasn’t all my fucken fault, ya see in the town centre tavern, a man bought me and him a jug of beer but he fucken tore strips off me forcing me

to look up in the sky saying god or buddha please save me now, and he fucken yelled at me, saying your not like the kids, and i saw peter sargent, an old

neighbourhood friend, but he died and one man was teasing me at the bar because the barman only let me do a tab just for a cricket match, i liked that

cricket match so much, but clubs don’t do that much anymore, i was having fun, actually i was having voices in my head about the canberra people

making me be an adult to a ****, sit there brian and drink your beer watch the families mucking around and then die, it might be because i stole people’s money

and ran off leaving him lying in the ditch, i feel bad about that now, steve told me, i shouldn’t have done that, and in 2004, pats voice said teena totter teena totter

35, i was kidnapped by a demon, and i made it through alive and i was crazy back in the 90s, the chemical in my brain was forcing patrick’s voice in my head

and i cheered on some dude’s kid and he said, ya leave my kid alone ya little mongrel and i started teasing him calling him a worry wought, and as he left, he said

next time i see ya, i will punch you, your not a shy person, buddy, but he never did, but still i have to watch my f..n back, but as long as i don’t **** him off again

it should be alright and one time at the charnwood inn, i was watching the choirboys, i lost my wallet and smokes and some **** grabbed me outside and i thought he was abducting me,

so i tried to push my legs up, and he said, ok we’ll leave ya alone buddy and i got a free taxi ride home, and i was at the ANU bar watching a band and this man started tapping his foot

and i thought he was cool, but the chemical in my brain made a little tease, coming  out of him, but i really thought that band was cool, despite me looking like i was jittering

and also when i was bowling as we had a club meal, i was dancing on the floor with kathryn and the patrons thought i was the coolest dude around, and i partied all the way through

bowling, especially when i won trophies, yeah this was rad, and i remember i was bowling back in 1990 and i grabbed two boys of bill, who was our player and i wanted to ****** them

as well as i went to the basketball and grabbed a boy near the dunny, and grabbed frank’s friend robert, it lead to tie up games, but i don’t want anyone like me, ya see

but i remember singing, hey hows it going, sorry i can’t get through, just leave ya name and ya number and i’ll get back to you, and i sang the whole song at the mall as well

as teasing the men, saying i am a kid and your a man, i am a kid and your a man, you see i remember having visions of being treated like a hooligan ya know playing cool for yeah mate

yeah kids, as i sat there, the forces of the paranormal world will take away my family person, saying, your not a family person anymore, you are now a hooligan, and i hear pat’s voice

saying, come on brainy party, and i said, hi pat over the phone and he always told me to look after myself as he hi-5ed me, but there was this girl named louise, well i got memories

of life with pat at the poetry slam through louise, but she got ******* when people yelled at her, my motto is, i have the right to go out and have fun, like a real cool kid, that i was

but there is a worry that i will lose what i have at the poetry slam as far as losing people cheering me on, but i have to stick at my guns at the poetry slam and read with pride

for the poems i wrote myself, and i like dad, but i hate the voice saying, dads not around anymore brian, i know that, i say to the voice, but i don’t think he understands me

and mcdonalds was my favourite food, until it made me *****

Music  is  for
someone's   mouth,
ear  and  nose


For  mouth
if will  go  to
stomach  will be
digest.


Rest  will  be
out  as  stool.

The  stool  will be composed  then

be  utilised  as
  a  tree   fertiliser

europeans, beginning with the german philosophers of the 19th century,
and ending with english hippies of the 1960s (the beatles, namely),
seem to have adopted this, almost ancient fascination with eastern religiosity,
what originally undermined western "values": if there were any.
now, i can buy into all this "crap", i can see how the shackles fall off,
and the vatican is released into the wild, like a nebuchadnezzar...
and how this constant fight with the vatican by the protestants,
made us all wear black... rather than, something from
the united colours of benetton... oh ****, what a memory...
i was at the knightsbirdge branch once...
                    picked up a blazer... on sale, probably reduced to 20 quid...
what colour was it?   **** knows! too many shades...
i could list them...  a mix of:       mustard, orange, cinnamon,
                      whiskey, amber, mahogany...
                 let's just say: it went well with dark brown trousers...
             jeans? would i ever wear them? what am i? a ******* cowboy?
jeans is the most abhorring export out of: the u.s.    of    a.
                          those trousers are rigid as ****... the best way to actually
wear them, are like converse sneakers, don't wash them...
                 so they, finally(!) feel soft - and not like some iron-man
                                    suit.
                                                 what's with this cult of frying testicles?
anyway... hinduism, and the corner stone of the religion...
  reincarnation... maybe i'm thinking about this concept in the wrong
way... but would the concept suggest that: there are, and there were,
and there will be, only an finite amount of people?
                           i.e. that there were only a finite amount of people
to begin with, the so called originals?
                so who are all the other people? the deplorables, the dispoable
bio-mass? fertiliser?
       e.g. as a child i was asked, which was more -
it was during the undermining of communism in poland,
and capitalist powers began a project to inflate the polish currency...
like in germany after the 1st world war...
      i was shown two hands... one with a banknote,
   the other with coins...
             what was written on the banknote?
         probably something akin to 1, and 0000000000.
                     i was asked, which is more? the coins, or the banknote?
i said: the coins: there are more of them.
               why would i say that? well... basic arithmetic:
   there were about 9 coins in the hand...    but the banknote?
          there was only one... even though the state value written on it
was probably worth a fake billion.
                                                    toilet paper anyone?
so yeah... i'm suspicious about the concept of reincarnation...
          let's speed up to a modern comparison:
    it's all too much like the case of en sabah nur (x-men apocalypse);
  i really can't believe there were only a finite number of
people to begin with... but then again... that sort of thinking
would posit the infinite number of gods... no wonder hinduism
is a polytheism... a finite number of people to begin with...
and then the infinite number of gods.     what, a, load, of, *******!

I was just sitting and drinking a mug of coffee
And looking at the proliferation of colours round the lawn
In one small corner of the garden one almost bare brown patch
Small green shoots there are starting to show through
Those tiny specs of green are pricelesss to me
More priceless than even my most expensive rose
You see those small green shoots have sprung from
a handful of seed I spread about a month ago
They were........Wild flowers seeds.
No pruning will I do to keep them in check
No fertiliser will they get nor water when its hot
They can get on and do their own thing
They will feed the butterflies and bees
I love them

What makes a man, a man,
What makes a beast, a beast.
Is it the way in which he lives?
Or the way his ancestor's lived.
The past haunts the present,
The present awaits the future.
Uncertainties tangled within time.
Who will become what,
Travelling down the dark valley,
Withering into the future,
As a rose withers in the winter.
Next springs fertiliser.
What will become of the master species?
The master of all,
But space,time and nature,
The three untameable beasts of the universe.
How can we control our fate,
When we can't control our present?
The grand illusion,
Free-will,
Time,
Humanity.

What is humanity?
When we praise those who ****,
For a supposed cause.
What cause can justify the malevolent killings,
Of innocent women and children?
What's humane about our nature?
When we devastate cities,
Regardless of the cost.
How can you put a price on a human life?
Especially ones so innocent.
How can we persecute those who are different?
How can we be different,
When we're all human.
Two arms, two legs.
Two eyes, two ears.
One mouth. One brain.
Speak your mind,
Open your eyes,
See the atrocities of our so called "humanity"

Why do we create,
When all we do is destroy?
Why do we work,
When all we do is spend?
Why leave a scar on Earth's face,
When it's all going to end anyway.
How can we live,
A life like this,
Filled with misery,
Famine,
Destruction,
Wars.

Because it's life.

Suicide; society tells me it’s a ***** word

Blackens your tongue and brands you an

Outsider to your beloved community;

Tarnishes your dazzling reputation and

Takes a beautiful, cherished, short-lived, soul.

But why did society not raise me like the

Painstakingly adored roses amongst

Its garden of thorns; why can’t I be

That happy girl. Why have I been

Doused in fertiliser, a wretched ****

Amongst a garden of beauty, growing

Faster than lightning, roots of gnarly

Agony and shoots of grey, blurred hatred for

Every atom of my being- screams for the ****

Killer to embrace me by the neck, apply a-

Seductive dose of love-dripping pressure

And set this crow free; unchain my bruised wings

And I promise I will leave you be, I will never

Bring misery or misfortune again.

But suicide; is a ***** word, a cheek

Burning, soul smouldering, darkening

Shadow on the pretty plastic cases over our,

Mechanical hearts. Not for the great pain of

Losing a barely, blossomed flower- took one

Heavy dose of white-pain sunlight and

Wilted away into the black, bottomless soil.

Not for the gaping loss of a singular

Fertile crop in an endless year of draught and

Famine. Suicide, is not a tear-wrenching,

Palm-sweating word for the, heavy and huge hole

It leaves in society’s newly plastered walls-

But it is an unspeakable word for the pure

Shame. The surly shadow of unspeakable

Shame that it leaves like a, stain of red wine

On the pretty, sensible woman’s white blouse

Like a ****** tattoo on the arm of an infant.

We do not grieve their death. We grieve our pride,

Our bruised and bleeding pride at not preventing

The stench of failure as a race of people, in the death

Of one melancholy drowned person, we practically

Placed the boulders in their pockets and said drown.

And I am holding my breath; tight roping this

Misery that smothers me at sunrise, see I am

Permitted a feigned slumber of peace in the dead

Hours of night yet I awake to the,

Asphyxiation of pain, eyes bulging in terror of

What awaits me when I run out of time, oxygen fast-

Fading and the orange, pink of dawn lights a

Fire in the honey pools of my eyes- small, mocking fires

That sneer at my desperation to cease, at my plea for peace-

Tight, burning stabs that tingle in my throat and

I’m running low on air, on time, almost there-

Deliria, ecstasy, glee dripping from my limbs

And- the noose I fabricated in my non-

Functioning, disabled mind slips away, faster

Than I can catch it and refasten, and I am, cold

In my bedsheets once more. Welcomed again,

To the now bellowing daylight of, depression

Another flightless, fruitless day of carefully,

Hand-stitched smiles and sinfully pre-tuned

Laughter. The world tells me to stand on the

Pinnacle of misery with one broken leg and

If I dare fall, I am a branded shame on the surface

Of the earth, I am the centre of all failure in the

Universe so I, valiantly ride into no-mans-land,

A knight in shining armour except, I have no steel

And no bronze to, protect my heart from the cannon fire

Of pain, I have no shield to shelter me from the

Poison gas of self-hatred. But I am perfectly okay being

Defenceless in the brazen gunfire; I am still breathing,

The titanium arrows of misery protruding neatly from

My mangled limbs and my broken heart.

And that word, sombre and dark as ever

Flashes once in my head and I swat it away with

Deep-rooted disgust, and a dire hunger for such a desire.

Suicide;

Society tells me it’s a ***** word.

S I AM SITTING WATCHING MY TV, I FEEL MYSELF BEING PULLED UP

TO BRING ME UP TO OUTER SPACE, AND ALSO GET RID OF MY SILLY DELLUSIONS

LIKE WATERING DOWN THE COMPUTER TO GROW A MONEY TREE ON THE INTERNET

AND TELLING MY PARENTS THEY AIN’T MY PARENTS

AND TO HELP IN THE HEALING OF THE MONEY TREE, I CLICKED ON A FERTILISER

WHICH HELPS GROW THE MONEY TREE

AND THEN AFTER THAT I PLAN TO ROB THE HAWKER SHOPS, AND DROP A FEW DOLLARS ON THE GROUND

TO GO BACK HOME TO JOI FAMILY AND FRIENDS TO SPURT MONEY DOWN TO THE POOR FROM PARADISE

YOU SEE, THE PARANORMAL WORLD ARE LIFTING MY BODY UP SAYING

WE ARE TAKING YOUR COOL KID AWAY, EVEN IF IT HURTS YA, CAUSE

IT LOOKS LIKE YOU DON’T WANT TO LET IT GO

YOU SEE I HATE BEING CALLED DUMMY

AND I HATE BEING CALLED A WOOSEY

I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A DIFFERENT PERSON TO EVERYONE ELSE

I KNOW, DUDES IT’S BLOOD HARD TO DO, BUT AT LEAST GIVE ME THE ILLUSION OF A COOL PERSON

AT LEAST GET ME PAST THE MENTAL HEALTH NONSENSE OF MY PAST

AT LEAST GET ME PAST THE COOL KIDS, IN MY HEAD,

FOR, WHEN I WAS YOUNG I WAS TRYING TO FIT INTO THE COOL FAMILY LIFE

NONE OF MY FAMILY REALLY UNDERSTOOD, I SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF A BENDY BUS

MY FAMILY DIDN’T WANT TO

I WANTED TO GO TO DISNEYLAND IN THE USA, MY FAMILY PREFERRED TO WATCH DISNEY ON TV, WHICH IS FINER

I AM HAVING A SCHITZOPHRENIC WINGE, YOU SEE I WANT ALL MY KID LOOK TO PULL UP OVER MY BODY

AS DAD WANTS TO RID MY SILLY KID, HOOLIGAN, SO TO SPEAK, RIGHT OUT OF ME

YA SEE, DAD IS NOW BETTY, AND, I HEAR VOICES FROM MY PAST, LIKE PAT JUST SAID, I AM GOING TO **** YA BLOOD

AND MY BROTHER IS BEING A PROTECTOR, THINKING I HATE IT, SAYING, LEAVE BRIAN ALONE, BUDDY, HE’S NOT LIKE US

I HEAR PAT SAYING, MEN DON’T DO THAT THAT IS WHAT KIDS DO, PAT MIGHT GO TO BED

AND DAD IS TRYING TO PULL MY DELLUSIONAL HOOLIGAN OUT OF ME, WHICH MAKES PAT SAY

YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE BRIAN, DAD PULLS BRIAN’S DELLUSIONAL HOOLIGAN, AND PAT SAID, BRIAN IS STILL A YOUNG DUDE

AND THEN SAID, WE ARE JUST HAVING FUN WITH BRIAN’S BRAIN, MR AND MRS AND CHRIS AND BRIAN ALLAN

WE ARE JUST PLAYING WITH BRIAN’S BRAIN, THE VOICES ARE SAYING BRIAN ALLAN HATES LIFE, BUT THE TRUTH IS BRIAN ALLAN LOVES LIFE

AND I LIVE LIKE IT’S ONE BIG ADVENTURE, I GET A DELLUSIONAL TEASE AS MY BROTHER AND THE GUY THAT NICKED MY LUNCH

ARE LAUGHING AT ME, SAYING, WE FOOLED YA, BUDDY, OLE DUDE OLE PAL

WITH THEIR BIG YOUNG DUDE LAUGH THEY HAD BACK THEN

AND ME, BRIAN ALLAN, WANTS TO RID THOSE SILLY DELLUSIONS OUT OF ME, BY YOUNGER PEOPLE

I DON’T WANT TO BE AN OLD FOGIE ALL MY LIFE, I LIKE DOING THINGS

YOU SEE PAT IS SAYING, US BIG YOUNG DUDES ARE DOING WHAT WE USED TO DO, YA LITTLE SHY BOY

AND I SAY, I WANT TO GET RID OF THIS SILLY MOO COW AND SHIP DELLUSION AND WORRYING ABOUT IT, BEFORE I WORK AY COMMON BRAIN

AT PRESENT, PAT IS PUTTING MY KID WHEN I WAS YOUNG BACK INTO ME

AND THIS KID, IS MAKING ME ITCHY ALL OVER

AND ALSO PAT IS SITTING UP WATCHING TV SAYING, I AM JUST SITTING ON THE COUCH, I MEAN NO HARM

I SAID, I DON’T REALLY WANT ANYONE TO GIVE ME SPECIAL TREATMENT, YA KNOW WHY, DUDE

BECAUSE, I SORT OF KNOW MY CALLING

AND PAT HAS BEEN COOL, LYING ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND EATING BISCUITS ON THE LOUNGE AND ALSO SITTING THERE DRINKING HIS BEER YA SEE

WHILE I DO MY TAPESTRY

ANY DELLUSION WHICH HYPES UP PEOPLE

MY BROTHER GETS ON THE COMPUTER, SAYING YOUR STILL LIKE US, BRIAN AND PAT SAID ‘NO CHRIS, BE SHY FOR BRIAN

MY BROTHER SAID HE WASN’T SHY TO BE A COMPUTER BUFF, I AM NOT SHY TO BE A COMPUTER BUFF

ACTUALLY COMPUTERS ARE THE THING I LIKED ABOUT DAD, OUT OF THE MANY FAULTS

I LOVE TO MAKE THE COMPUTER WORK FOR ME LIKE DAD DID

PAT SAID, NO NO BRIAN IS STILL A YOUNG DUDE, BRIAN IS STILL YOUNG DUDE

DON’T BE BRIAN’S DADDY CHRIS, BE LIKE US, PAT SAID AS WELL AS SAYING NO NO NO

BRIAN IS STILL A YOUNG DUDE, AS PAT IS HAPPILY PLAYING AROUND THE HOUSE

TRYING TO GET ME TO CLKEAN MY HOUSE LATE AT NIGHT, YOU SEE PAT OLE BOY OLE PAL

I CLEAN DURING THE DAY WITH HELP, AND I CREATE ART AND WRITE AT NIGHT

AND I STARTED TO GET ITCHY, FROM THE TEASING BUG

I remember the little stories about the quotidian,
those garden plants, fertiliser and growth
you, tumbling unscathed whilst climbing up yet another tree
your voice, reverberating at the end of a phone line: "hallo???"
And how we marvelled at your F1 driving
as you kept silent
(you liked it secretly, we know)

You were a mechanic
with an unusual gift for sound
And I learnt respect one Sunday morning
when mummy told me your story
of how you closed a dead man's eyes
with a promise of providence

It's the first time death has hit
so close to home
yet it is a difficult concept to grasp,
so far away from home
and still, I return
half-expecting to see you waiting at your door

And i have started to twitch at the word "grandfather"
because you only feel the absence
in light of a presence.

Over and over the same foes on a piece of ground where nothing grows
Fertiliser the blood of a child a seed won't grow even if it tried
Your cause is lost in hate and fear humanity does not live here

I was a gift upon the heart of
                                   soiled regression.
Never one to look a gift in the mouth of fallen
                                                                promises.

For the decaying leaves
                                     left before me,
                    were not for lost causes.

                            But fertiliser of new reflections.

Dearest daughter.
Seed planted at twelve,
spiralling, sprawling.
Fourteen's springtime; sprouting,
while toiled and soiled,
till twenty's plenty.

The precious peers arrive,
cans in one, fertiliser in the other.
You plead, you beg,
nothing but stilted silence
escapes.
Expansion you cannot take.
Not for this inner tree of black,
where nothing but anguish falls.

All we have is the dead body
to leave fertiliser for the earth
Spirit, now that's another thing entirely

Today the sunlight
rested sweetly upon edge of clouds
making the smoky sky
glisten whitely light
Blackbirds fly together
supporting each other
whilst goats laze
comfortably below in
cheery meadow
inhaling stinky air
of sprayed fertiliser
Two roaming peacocks
alone together
may have lost there way
from a family farm
I can only imagine
as I quickly take a glance
out of car window
as to why they escaped
but peace fills my heart
as these two lovers
remain content
wandering upon gods
earthly treasures sharing
there hearts as one

Anywhere else can be somewhere if you're
ready and wiling to go there.

thoughts on statues
(creeps in randomly)
stately
Innately inert
but
full of life.

We have become a family when
we realise that barbed and branded
goods are the enemy.

Fed on bacteria and fertiliser
sold as an appetiser
what the hell can the main course
be?

Goldsmiths
Buy one
die one
try one
they're delicious

And we start to mumble
Inaudible
stumble,
eat
Goldsmiths apple crumble,
go on
make yourself a pie.

What is there to do?
Late nights and late mornings, coco pops for lunch.
Mourning Wetherspoons with friends, drinks and
3am cheesy chips, laughter like clowns on steroids.

Today I cried over my laptop dying
and I can’t use Facebook on a wide screen.
I’m pining more for real faces though
and having jokes heard and my expressions seen.

The evenings mission is dinner, lining up
the vegetables like soldiers and making
food does seems that serious now.
Outside the streetlights somehow look dimmer.

But when spring hits the watts of sun will
glow like shining daffodils and we shall
bloom too and grow using fertiliser that
forms out of the depth of solitude.

how tedius the sado-masochistic
mantra of mea culpa,
as if the 2nd shame of Adam,
ecce proto... ****...
              mea culpa mea culpa...
with death and the index finger
pointing, a release: nunc tu!
             death has only been industrialisted
by pagans and polytheistic alike...
far greater hope
in returning to fire,
       than as fertiliser to the element
of earth...
     the fire dance,
            no point speaking
of animal rights, if the death rite
of man is so shallow within
the confines of earth,
             less than a sailor eaten
by 72 sirens of the depth of
of poseidon's heart,
  less so in the immediacy of
to ash... brought before the pyre,
and of stature column...
no animal rights exist...
point being, monotheistic religions
chose the wrong elemental tomb
of burial..
          with fire unto air,
    rather than this obnoxious
gangrene ritual of laid into earth,
translated into aqua on squid feeding
and crab and worm recycling...
obnoxious monolith of monotheism...
as the myth goes:
poles thouht that Jews buried their old
sitting down...
    so that they'd be the first to get up
and walk to abrosia's sap...
         in defence of polytheism and
paganism... at least they didn't
    desecrate the once living
    body, with confines of rot, wood,
and the born gothic with a
subsequent loss of adventure
and living splendor...
                   taught the toll of
the hollow bell chime...
                in that respect,
monotheistic religions have little
    compensation to mark themselves
with glee, as Notre Dame superior...
for one, satan, the hunchback angel
replies to the story in the Koran...
     how am I to bow, since I am already
bowing?
      the monotheistic religions chose
the wrong element...
            to bury their dead or give
praise unto them...
also notable...
      panicky or rather picky eaters,
unlike the Beijing supra-aestheticians...
namely? eat anything that moves,
and you're, sure as ****,
not bound to **** anything, that doesn't.

Crabby morning

He looked down into the toilet bowl
had shat and flushed, 80-year-old **** going to waste
down a drain and into the sea.
70 years ago when he lived on a farm human and
Animal waste was used as a fertiliser the waste had
been useful potatoes grew big as did cabbages.
He had read the Chines collected stuff dried it and
Made it into powder and sold for strawberry farmers.
He had a shower and shaved, used proper blades
no electric shaver for him, he hadn't drunk coffee
yet and was cranky.

Love is like planting a tree. It needs a lot of good taking care of before it even start growing. If you don't water it enough it slowly start to die, but on the other hand if you want it to grow beautifully then you have to put a lot of effort into it example; you have to make sure it get enough to water, you have to make sure it get enough sunshine also give it a bit of fertiliser. It might seem like a really hard jobs but just remember when a tree are fully grow it takes a lot for them to die even if it doesn't get enough water then, it still will grow because of all the care and effort you been putting in from the beginning will help it stay alive. But of course you can buy the one that it's already half grown.. but those ones seem to die much quicker... why? Because you don't know how its been looked after before.

money doesn't grow on trees
you have to be much wiser
or we could all get rich with ease
using more fertiliser

money doesn't fall from the sky
that would be a goof
to get rich you'd simply try
construct a bigger roof

money makes the world go round
how it comes to you may vary
but you'll need it till you're in the ground
and after for the ferry

Live like a miser
but at the end of your days
your fertiliser

                   Kelly McManus