indisposition, indisposition
you drive a hard bargain!
indisposition leave me till it's done
leave me
till I've kissed a girl and made her cry
leave me
till i've written my story in one word
leave me
till i've been to the ends of the earth
leave me
till i've died a little for everyone
indisposition dear taskmaster
leave me
till i've made amends for all the crazy things i've done
and for all the phenomenal things i haven't done
indisposition leave me be
till aching dreams have eased into being
leave me
till i have proven my traducers and detractors wrong
indisposition, then and only then
can i float and gloat like a happy ghost
forever in ethereal limbo before the next airy phase
indisposition,
leave me till it's done!

Fabricated.
Fictitious.
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.

This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.

Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?

But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.

Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.

Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.

No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting my need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.

You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.

You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.

I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.

in the beginning
was BamiBami
He the True God
the One God
He wanted everything for Himself
this BamiBami
so He weeded out all competition
and ate all the food at Cosmic Meat
Yum! Yum!
said BamiBami
More! More!
Yum! Yum!
and Mighty He fell sick
and He had no mother to make Him chicken soup
and He had no woman
to scream Him out of His Indisposition
But He had One Predisposition
and so He
vomited the Sun
and He vomited the Stars and the Planets
and the Cosmos
(and He vomited with such vehemence
the cosmos and the stars and space,
they’re still moving outward)
and then He turned round and He made one final *****
and He vomited the Earth and all its creatures
that includes you and me
and think about that,
that makes you puke
(say Hi Puke
to your fellow human pukes…)
and since then we’ve always puked
look around, and you’ll see the muck and puke
we’ve even gone nuke
All Praise be to BamiBami
He of the Divine Puke

and that’s how we got here
not by a fluke
but by a puke

I wonder if she can chalk her hollow face
Sometimes her plumage wrangles in indisposition
Like Cormorants lacking buoyancy with  a sea breeze

rainfall paints the car park with a darker hue, giving
depth to its once flat surface, so that headlights
drill down and refract, in its now mirrored facade.

the world slowly melts, as a thousand drummers beat
against my window, falling as a single sheet towards
the sill.

dark shapes, people, walk swiftly by: faceless,
beheaded by their own umbrellas, but, it is no different
from a sunny day, when stern faces, and frosty
indisposition, takes the place of covered face.

The burden in my Heart
is also for our good Name.
I always knew they would close down the shop.
The City Guilds sweeping shadows.
A man in a Trilby hat dot's what's left of our pride,
he plays fickle to our once Emporbium,
sanguine like dishes of indisposition
should bicker with the hand sewn purple curtains,
like a sacrament permitted just that once
at the time the betrayal turned cold.

I have this indisposition you see,
a hunger.
One that is never satisfied.

I try so hard to hold my tongue,
But I watch as every word escapes me.
So clever and cunning a tool.

It is as if, just for a moment,
This entity takes form,
Its reach, weaving through
The deep tissues of my brain.

My body reacts.

Why? What is the point?
This incessant need to be vindicated.
It sickens me to think about it.

Anger boils over

Tears run down

With nothing to do

Having to hold back

Screams muffled by thoughts

Thoughts overcome by screams



It’s quite a *****,

A disease you cannot prevent

No words can explain

The thinking of my mind

No desire for burned bridges

Leaves me appearing weak



For when out of control

Crying is my sweet release

Yet my cool exterior doesn’t match

The burning hatred in my heart

I don’t want the conflict

Though it seems that it must be



A war it is

And a fight I will make

Disrupting patterns of breath

A tight feeling in the chest

I hate the gruesome grasp

Of the monster known as anger.

The High and the Mighty
Tough and Brawny
The Slow and the dead
Bereft inert and wasted
Two sides of the same coin.
Happy the haughty
Unleashes the bully,
deeming the other worthless.
Tearing the soul brutal.
Play the game of the top dog and underdog.
Both are clowns,neither realising the futility of  this wasted exercise.
Pin the underdog on his physical gesticulation and mental indisposition.
Alone or in a group all are of a similar type.
Lynch the fall guy .
Stooge, scapegoat , victim and prey he becomes
To the vanity he succumbs.
Technique pretty as picnic.
Humour at his fraility,
Sock his security.
Convey substance right,
Lock him in tight.
Prepense a Wrong,
Twist his arm.
Snap and he reacts
He imitates your act
It's all too simple now,
Deride him unfair and square.
He has his cross to bear.
All the while sit in a chair
Wax eloquently about calibre and compare.
He stands there  sensibilities destroyed.
Wasting and Raising the role  ,
Haul over the Coals,
Oh boy has he killed your Soul ?
The Mighty is a bully,
Always righteous.
The Weak is Cunning,
Uses all the  weapons  he can comprehend.
Shunning Pretending Obeying and even Clowning.
The Bully manipulates the  weak for control, consciously.
The fragile also wants control , manipulating himself unconsciously.
This conflict seldom ends.
Till the feeble attains strength to defend.
Defend he will once he is able to transcend,
That the Mighty pedestal he had given to is living on a pretense.
The Mighty is acting out of a deep inner lacking.
Education none. Occupation None.
Achievements None.
Courteous he is to no one
Covering his incapacity,
He tries to be Judge and Jury.
Never once ******* himself
For deep inside he has no sense of self.
Lives in a dream ,  
Destroying condemning  others dreams.
Lives the life of the Mighty,
As long as others don't see reality.
That being his only strength.
Till his time is up and fate beckons,
The world has no choice but to reckon
The irony lies in the destiny.
World is not a fair place,
For Mighty he is not .
The Frail realises too late
But can never fight fate

Verily, I must confess, a witch’s cauldron
Has been bestowed upon my belly,
Churning and roiling, Bubbling and boiling!

And, even though my days of yore on battlefields
Are far and few in-between,
I do remember bloated pig’s carcasses, stuck
Eternally asleep in strangling dead-man’s-land-muck.

With which I feel not seldomly inclined
To trade places
In my most severe moments
of deep-gut indisposition.

Dost though not hear my foul mouth speak no riddles?
Abort, it cries, abort!
Expelled be those pernicious liquids
That make haste to rend my stomach asunder.

And expelled they shall be, violently as much
As a bubonic deluge from the very ****
Of Belzebub!