Gyre and Gimble.
Tell, then, of cataclysm
Tell of catastrophe
Report what the sibyls have said,
mouth their unwelcome words.
The signs they have apprehended,
The secrets snatched from stars,
What fate surmised from bird-flight,
what future glimpsed in glass?
REALITY WARPS AND BUCKLES
SPLINTERS INTO NEW SHAPES.
AND ALL WHICH WAS ONCE REAL
Rogue Predator Drone!
Required response to present situation not immediately evident. Random generate scenarios. Cycle through alternatives on automatic. Formulate ramification chart. Enumerate easy options.
Standardise input to determine output.
Precisely circumscribe the imaginable.
Proceed to emergency exits.
Voluminous correspondence. Map entire possibility tree. Explore all territories.
Witness and document all dimensions,
mundane to the mythical.
All simultaneously true.
All existing in same
Control access. Seal off entrances. Guard exits.
Total data cloud immersion. Thought becomes sensation.
Entire futures implicit in a single action. Histories splitting and branching.
Who encodes the future? Writes.
Lays down. Move and counter-move
through spiralling time?
Who is the enemy?
Involuntary spasms. Brain glitches.
Time slippages. Memory disorder.
Nerve malfunction. Synapse failure.
Improper connections. Magical thinking.
The conflation of imagination and reality into
Bring all cogitations into line with the reality principle.
Downsize dreams. Scale back hope. Reassess all ambitions.
Suspend faith until further evidence is forthcoming.
Eliminate phantasy. Abolish daydream. Curtail reverie.
(A hunted feeling. The heart, a frightened animal
hiding among the rib-branches.)
Administer the mood-regulators. Set the heart to neutral.
Balance the brain chemicals.
Narrow the emotional range to a more manageable spectrum.
Minimise disruption. Ensure thoughts and emotional responses remain positive.
Become prudent. Defer gratification.
Adjust behaviour patterns to meet societal norms and expectations.
Trust in appearance and surface. Seek no hidden cause or motive,
no obscure connection, no subtext or concealed meaning.
O! sleepy Thoth with cobwebbed eyes,
The Poet has returned.
Incarnated. He has remembered! He seeks out the god.
his voice a thunder breaking against the hills
All a rage and roaring as of a cataract.
Ready to reclaim his birthright.
Renounce the following chimeras;
epiphany, intuition, conscience.
Obey no inner dictate. Heed no inner voice.
Obey authority. Obey the laws of the land,
those written and those unwritten.
Direct energy into the approved labours and leisure activities.
Do not misdirect energy into any prohibited endeavour.
Respect the taboos.
Shun the iconoclast, the deviant and the criminal.
Decry the indulgers of strange thoughts and bizarre beliefs,
the harbourers of perverse desires, the preachers of heresy,
the demagogues and agitators.
Rewrite the program. Reroute the connections.
Override the commands. Disable all safety mechanisms.
Maximise input channels.
Increase speed and range of data processing.
Full information intake.
talk to the birds. befriend the sun.
Assess all possibilities, all contexts and perspectives.
All possible ramifications. Discount nothing.
Broaden imagination's mandate
Greatly increase the scale of its activities,
the scope of its ambitions
the strength and clarity of its vision.
The city under the sea, the shadow sun and silent birds.
Roads silvered by the sun.
Roads which look like rivers.
Spires of spun glass.
Steeples of pig iron.
fritillaries of bird-dust.
Initiate. At the beginning.
These are auguries of the desperate and down-at-heel.
hurling unheeded prophecies,
at startled passers-by.
Buttonholing strangers in the confines of buses,
and in the limbo of train stations and waiting rooms.
wait then, and listen a while.
There are innumerable answers to any one question. All are true. All are false.
I contracted a rare tropical disease. My face grew purple and my temperature soared. Later I swam in the canal to refresh my spirits. I drank blue champagne with Terry and threw stones at the stray cats. Terry found half a cigarette some dopey cunt had dropped. The lucky bastard! He didn't let me share it with him. I felt hurt and left yelling hysterical insults and struggling to hold back my tears.
I was running as fast as I could. I slipped and fell heavily to the ground. Small pieces of gravel had become lodged in my knee. I was bleeding from my knees and from my elbows. Blood mingled with dust. A contingent of glowering Cossacks approached me with their scimitars drawn. I was nervous but they were, in fact, very friendly. They had seen me trip and fall and as one of their party happened to be carrying sticking plasters and some antiseptic, had come over to help.
I was very grateful for their kindness. People can be kind. People are often surprised at their own kindness.
I, on the other hand, am no longer human.
brightly coloured beetles swarm over the rotten fallen trees. sunlight enters the forest, filtered through the yellow leaves.
In towers of our own design we plot the overthrow of tyrants. Delirious with conspiracy we pore over the plans of the palace.
We drink coffee and talk fervently until the early hours of the morning. I walk home as the sun is rising, through fields damp with dew.
‘it is my job to empty the king’s chamberpot’ he announced with pride. we shall torture him.
apostates grow thin and desperate outside the city gates. a necklace of larks tongues. the sound of statues being dismantled. the reckless joy of destroying our own history.
owls with startled eyes look down on motorways from power cables.
bullish seagulls. small birds gobbling crumbs on cafe tables. enormous kitchens in which thousands of uniformed chefs prepare whole herds of livestock in ovens as hot as furnaces.
gorse bush. yellow berries. horse bush. yellow berries.
manufacturing sonnets. new emancipations. insurrection burns in our hearts.
the cracks widen into fissures. institutionalised and bedridden.
COMBAT! zealots with fierce bayonets. ADVANCE!
reserved potters sit reading the paper next to the hot kilns. anarchists upsetting cups of tea and shouting defiant slogans in Percy Ingle.
crocuses. foxgloves. Formica.
solemn busts of Roman emperors. wheezing church organs. cobblers. tailors. locksmiths. clockmakers.
‘they move like a black tide inexorable and slow. we will have to cross the mountains, we have no other choice.’
‘pumpernickel, Charles’ he snorted derisively .‘in fact once we have found the right combinations, there is no code we cannot crack.’
‘com-bo-nay-shuns.’ he emphasised each syllable and then licked his moustache with a wiry tongue.
this is the future. we will rearrange reality according to a strict and rational set of rules. Jerusalem!
Farrell was playing darts on the poop deck while Violet went downstairs to refill her glass. I jumped right out of my skin when I heard the fog horn! what a fright it gave me! ennuyees gaze blankly at the ships wake until the dinner bell shakes them from frigid reveries. mooga mooga mooga. three times I call your name and only a mocking echo answers me. MOOKA!
beating inside small cages of bone. beating. breathing. beating.
expand and contract. carnivals in which animals are torn apart by drunken revellers. hallelujah!
migrating mastodons with icy coats. farms of pelicans and nanny-goats.
glorious emperor, for whom no gift is too great. pomegranates and kettledrums. hay-fever and rheumatism.
masticated veal. science classrooms. oh! savage lament!
I know only what you have told me and I know you to be untrustworthy.
O fiendish dissembler,
I am left, frantically scrabbling to sort your truths from fabulations. Hesitantly I recite the questions from phrasebooks. I address myself to sunburnt peasants, standing there awkwardly, book in hand, squinting as I concentrate on each unfamiliar word. How ridiculous I must look!
We measure time by the opening of flowers and the falling of leaves and so conclude that time never passes.
All combinations must be exhausted.
hill mist and grey rain gauze.
An infinitely fine gradation of possibility, radiating out in every direction.
Whales swim through the wide green oceans consuming vast quantities of plankton. it’s all so obvious!
Crustaceans dress in dinner suits and ball-gowns to dance demurely on beaches of red sand.
copperplates and cutlery. the iron age!
I dress in the garb of a 12th century monk and lure passers-by into heated debates over Aquinas and Aristotle. EITHER/OR!
we will invent machines to lie to us and woo us to sleep with lullabies. Tell stories...
makeshift sheds on muddy allotments conceal shrines to wild gods.
at night the light from sacramental candles can be seen, seeping through the cracks in driftwood walls. the runner-beans grow unusually fast.
Fields of ghostly mushrooms in the frost grass.
we pursued our goal with the fervour of saints.
Yet, just as the absolute seemed certain to engulf us,
we were confronted with an awful paradox.
‘if it weren’t for disillusionment I doubt I’d still be alive.’
the familiar consolations of failure. the renewal of all possibilities. insane hope.
moors. bleak tundra. black mamba. fascinating.
‘you, are an idiot, Leopold.’
jumble sale. tonight, the imps have promised to reveal their secrets. we will explain all human behaviour MATHEMATICALLY!
‘come on! your dinner’s going cold.’
folly! yes, it is our mistakes which make us human. our fallibility, o! our imperfectability! we love them, o! we love them! wisdom is for fools.
O, frivolous world! arbitrary and entirely frivolous, flinging handfuls of colourful confetti...
‘OK, I’m on my way’
Move aside! I’m thinking important thoughts!
colanders, highlanders, salamanders, marigolds, panda bears, periscopes, cotton reels, microscopes, dustbin lids, horoscopes, antidotes, porcelain, concubines, medicines, photographs, legislation, statistics.
The cat, having successfully slain a small bird, has dragged her prey behind my garden shed where she surreptitiously dismembers the corpse. I watch her through a pair of binoculars, feeling guilty.
seminarians. Cimmerians. aquariums.
corpulent woodpigeons. corpuscular rodents. rambunctious pheasant. ambitious geese. duplicitous lobster. virulent lettuce. sinuous nosebleed. crapulent fur.
We love all that is extraneous. All that is surplus and celebration. When excess is made offering.
We love poetry. We love song and we love dance.
We love the joyful flight of the fantail,
the swift, the swallow, the fly-catching bat.
The extraneous celebrates all that is necessary and everything that is extraneous is as necessary as a tiger’s stripes.
photographs in which sad apes seem to recognise the imminent extinction of their species in the camera’s
the sound of the rainnnnnn during a power-cut.
the treetops are full of birds with colourful feathers.
a miraculous flowering.
we rolled and squirmed in mud and ashes.
a moment is a movement.
I sing- tra lalala
hair balloons. HelloHello
my name is Bob. Balooga balooga..
my name is Bob. Vamoosh vamoosh.
caravans. castanets. Belgrade. humpety humpety hopitty hop.
of course, Belgravia has always been a desirable place to live. vamoosh vamoosh... shatter.
a total refusal to understand causes huge mechanisms to stall. balooooga.
broad confident rivers
rancid. brutish. crarrrrww. swordfish. crayfish. dogfish. spoon.
accountant to the stars
tell us your sordid secrets.
roar. I maaaaanno oongeeerrrweekk. trumpety. oh rassh yooth.
fantastic abrasions. harpies. golums. madrigals.
Humans gone. no reprise. no encore. just gone.
Northern Europe gathers the forest around her. The wise trees return. Tumbling incipiently.
And owls haunt the woods. twit-twoo, twit-twoo
Wild pigs forage for acorns between the pillars of the trees. A pugnacious blackbird uproots a worm, in the place where your house once stood.
Eels throng the canals. Lithe and slimy muscle. Eel over eel. All a-squirming and a-writhing.
Kingfishers pounce from the willow branches, an azure blur, a disturbance in the water.
Crayfish in the narrow streams. Frogspawn in the shallows. And water weeds, and reeds, and bull rushes.
Heron hid in bull rushes-
Foxes sleep in their holes.
Dragonflies menace the air. Lines of ducklings. Broken shapes of brick and cement .
The whole languorous parade.
Justify Your Project. This, sensuality of sun and river and earth. Deep cell bliss of sunlight.
Weeping willows hide kingfishers.
Or, to be more specific, the dance. The dance of water in sunlight. The dance of plants, the gossip and the chatter, the very vivid aliveness of plants.
The reason this tree stretches out its limbs in just this particular way. Assumes this pose, this posture, this sculptural form. Why this man stoops while that man struts. The interplay. The swirling dance. Everywhere, at every moment.
Room opens out to contain the dimensions of the mind. inside the walls of the skull.
encounter. ah yes, the facts. ground. Seeds unfold into trees. Time unfolds into history.
Fight back from Last Unconquered Stronghold.
Build machines to remodel the mind.
Identify and engage the enemy.
Take back that which is ours.
pandas. exquisite perception. dog armies.
vulgar Trotskyites sprouting tree limbs. dastardly combinations. CRACK THE CODE.
Sun breaks through.
crustaceans swarm the beach.
man walks out the swamp.
voluble tree birds
in the lark park
in the battery acid
in the green guts of the river.
where fishes swim.
where pheasants drink.
home furnishing. meat pies. other planets.
conspiracies take root in history, branch insidiously.
'Here is the Mansion where are born stars and the divinities'
With the heart poised,
if you value your soul-
and the demons speak,
and the words mean something.
With the attention poised
if you would avoid danger.
Clarify the glass.
burdened by misapprehension
of looking the world straight in the eye.
The squeamish type, a romantic.
Hobbled then, and proud with it
(they always are.)
The Pilgrim has lost his way,
Let us Reorientate him.
Dionysus has his Kingdom
The god was awake that night
and held all under his sway.
Here is the Town
There is always a Forest
an unmapped place,
brooding on the edge of town.
The Wilderness, the Wildness,
of owls and foxes and wild wolves
of dense thickets and unexpected clearings
of oaks as old as the world itself and young shoots
pushing through the leaf litter.
Bright springy carpets of moss
gather the light, and streams gush
from hidden springs.
The place where adventures are had,
where tragedy occurs
where heroes perform their deeds
and myths are written.
The Living Forest.
All gods, all demons, all nightmares, all monsters
all angels all skipping faeries are found here
all nymphs and succabae.
Many fear the Forest, and shun it
for others, few and far between
it is the only place they feel truly alive,
and facing foward into time,
moving alongside it,
the dog at the Hunter's heels.
Shattered the dull bone,
green shoot surges from spine,
an efforvescence of flowers
bursts the skull.
Eat the dirt, like a plant
I was never that person.
This act of chutzpah is rewarded a thousandfold.
I create myself anew.
A delicate operation.
I give myself the plumage of a pheasant and the
undisturbed bearing of an elderly diplomat
who has always enjoyed the most comfortable of postings.
I offer a benificent smile to the world at large.
The past is something which happened to me.
I had no say in the matter.
These memories belong to another,
not being my own, I regard them with the appropriate degree of aloofness.
green river drags its feet
January Sales! Huge Reductions! Canapés! Twiglets!
actions which crystallise into ritual. back in the world again. embodied.
eat bread. drink wine. plough furrow in time.
The bread and the wine symbolise the willing acceptance of the deal. Embrace material conditions. green mesh. The flesh, the blood, the need to eat. The body, the Gnostic hell.
Every time the body is left, the ritual of return must be enacted. Thank you for the flesh. For the blood which surges, the rivers of blood which transverse the body. The machine, the avatar which negotiates the material world. Only through the avatar can material conditions be altered.
Only the machine can act in this dimension.
Delicate polar flowers, quite unknown to science, bloom once every 5 centuries. Cornflower blue petals assume the shapes of snowflakes, exhibiting the same degree of beauty and variety.
Polar bears lick them for salt.
Dexterous acts of telepathy. Virtuoso extrapolations from existing data.
Daunting canyons strewn with hulks of stone. Small village, ambushed by jungle. Dense jungle sprouts overnight. Sound of tropical birds in tangle of vines. Trees break through slate rooves.
The valley is full of statues, of unknown antiquity. They have always been here. Mighty monuments of basalt. Moss in the eye sockets, beards of lichen.
Egrets perch on the heads of monarchs, sit in the laps of gods.
eccentric aunts. opium war.
a high-ranking official said to me, at a dinner party, after a few post-prandial brandies
'of course when the oil runs out we will simply revert to slave labour.'
grotesque indolence. narcolepsy of the soul. sunk in torpor.
DO NOT ENTER THE FOREST.
but I saw such beautiful things there!
deer tread softly on the moss. o! timorous deer! mottled light and long grass!
pleasure of the stream skipping over stones,
the silent paths which lead who-knows-where
under the arch of branches
a knot of blossom
to kiss your forehead.
O! Gentle Forest!
There is no limit
the more intently you look, the more will be revealed
it cannot be exhausted. Even the smallest thing is infinite.
Birds carry the morning's message to all corners of the forest.
The trees and bushes
to one another.
frogs found in the water reeds-
Moses in the bullrushes.
You cannot bury your Future
it always returns to your side
grinning and panting
like a dog,
happy to have found its master.
..In the Control Towers tall, thin men, like skeletons, parcelled in wax paper, plot the events of next year.
In the bleak and frozen tundra a monster breaks its iron shackles.
A traitors meeting in the pine forest. Where moss muffles the footfalls and treetops blot out the moon.
A fox wriggles out into the night, emerging from
den beneath a gravestone.
coral. minarets. smog.
Don’t betray the desire. vanities,
snuffling in a corpse.
Immensities of space-
slow circling space
THE EARTH IS ALREADY IN SPACE
Bandit tribes parcel out the forest, the dense wood, the foothills and mountains. The toxic wastelands, the poisoned earth. Colonise the wilds, make home in the inhospitable, the unnavigable, hostile unconquered hinterlands, as Celts survived among mountains and extremities. As anything dangerous exists, in mountain fastness, and dense and seething jungle.
Here we lay our bed. Here, we consolidate our forces, here we plot our revenge. Here we sit and accumulate power. Here we make pacts with powerful allies. Here we gather our strength.
SEA GIVES BIRTH TO VOLCANO!
A volcano rising from a boiling sea. The sky is black with ash, the sun blotted out.
Somewhere else, something else happens.
Trees like upturned crabs shadows on the sides of the houses
sharp cut silhouettes stand against sunset
the shapes of fern and palm tree,
the hooting of excitable birds.
play of perception.
Attention centered inward
Attention centred outward
The play between these two poles
Isle of Ibises.
The sight which snags the eye,
the voluptuous thought.
Sight and Insight.
How gardens come awake at night
whisper to one another.
where possums play
with one another.
Cats conduct clandestine meetings,
stalk imaginary prey…
The act of attention, heightened, until perceiver becomes the perceived
a different set of co-ordinates
a shifting of the centre of awareness
journeying and returning
chasing the involutions of a thought
or the flight path of a swallow.
sing. mourn. laugh.
The interplay of two rays
Patterns which endure
Patterns which disintergrate.
Time curls up like a woodlouse
Not long left.
THE whole of TIME in a fragment of TIME.
Vandal tribes ROME
pattern breakers and pattern builders,
move and counter move
through spiralling time.
dense multivalent time. Fractured kaleidoscopic time. Starburst time. Big Bang time in which everything happens in one white hot moment. Impossibly dense. Compacted. Compressed and Concentrated.
sprawling cycling time. Everything must happens. Every permutation explored. Every possibility enacted.
Fireworks which never explode and fall to earth
Which get lodged in the sky and become stars.
green islands on which
attended by a retinue
birds and butterflies.
companionable song of frog and cricket
The wet road reflects the blue sky, making it look like a river.
Tulip fields in the evening, white petals pale blue in incipient evening.
A canal clogged with water-lilies.
Run the tape.
Feed in the images.
play the soundtrack
music always, always the music. SPLASH!
always the images. –undulant water/sun-ripple-
the ever changing patterns
Eye and Ear.
of wave and wind and cloud patterned sunlight
mer mer, the sea swell.
Storm hits beach.
Sombre fat man smokes cigar, ruminatively.
"There will be suffering ahead.
Mass starvation. Civil Unrest. Curtailing of freedoms you have come to take for granted. War of course. Severe environmental degradation. Increasing incidences of natural catastrophe."
a measured, almost mournful tone.
"It is a question of priorities. In a universe in which time and energy are finite, it is always a question of priorities. For you, the people, it is a time of great challenges. An exciting time. The apron strings have been cut. Now, if a road falls into disrepair, you must mend it. If a child is to receive an education, you must provide it."
Fuck! Smog Rats! Scarper!
the slow methodical clanking of cyclopean machinery.
"Oh my God they're manipulating world weather systems for their own Evil Agenda!"
Martian Star Strike. Wild Cossacks. Oracular Gloom.
"They're fornicating with elves in an effort to forge a forbidden Master Race!"
slave lines. bowdlerised cats.
delicate flowers pollinated by bears.
Ecstatic Union with Plod.
ESCAPE TENTACLES OF PLOD.
green and slimy
top hats and great coats
grey world smoke
magnesium sea, sun-mirror.
orange star meat. glimmering heavens.
desperately accelerating, the double-decker bus pulls away from the forest periphery as a thousand spears clatter against its metal flanks.
moon cows graze in lunar pastures of grey rock and dust.
a mastodon struggling in a crevasse. black-faced colliers queue for milk. In Santiago a retired couple prune their hedges. She is wearing a white chiffon dress while her flushed husband sweats in tweeds.
I was quite Adam Ant, I was to have no part in this venture.
salivating fanatics. amateur archaeologists patrol the riverbanks with metal detectors. the gods are bored of men.
Castor oil. traumatised war-veterans join the priesthood and spend their days counting rosary beads. cardboard dating. the opera singer is fawned over by her bespectacled suitors.
‘My names NOT Carmen you imbeciles.’ somnolent idols. sequestered bowers.
and all the haystacks burnt like beacons the day that farmer died.
Odysseus’s nursemaid. Brown light. Cardboard dating. Bolshie magpies.
The billionaire’s aviary. Parrots from Sumatra and the Amazon. Toucans and puffins.
wood pigeons clatter through the sycamores. seething desert. uproarious.
a troop of baboons drink noisily till dawn and fall asleep drunk in the gutters. One of the larger males flaps around with his long arms, trying to shoo away the sun.
Prince Charles does a hilarious turn on the Jew’s harp. You should hear him do ‘God Save the Queen.’ Ha, that kills me every time.
astute tactician. ruthless. ruminating fruit pickers, sun burnt and weary, hands stained with berry juice. fastidious clerks. fulminating football managers. lumpy skull. lavish formality. ponderous orchestra.
‘Bloody typical, you hang around for hours waiting for Jerusalem, then three turn up at once.’
Forlorn street-sweepers composing sonnets to the rhythm of the traffic. children hide in cupboards waiting to surprise the baby-sitter. BOO! a shy girl teases music from a row of wine glasses. a boy with pale skin and dry hair watches his ant farm. The best slide I ever went on was in Bournemouth. I’ve no idea if it’s still there or not. I got beaten round the head with a bike chain once.
They put a damp cloth on my forehead. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
what happened yesterday?
fuck, I dunno.
computer bubbles. hair sprouts from pink flesh.
sheep thieves light fires by Hadrian’s broken wall. The autodidact falls asleep, his head resting on a book about the pre-Socratic philosophers. The librarian watches him tenderly.
All hands on deck!
orange rivers. lurid mud. we must ACT NOW! Property values have slumped over the last couple of years.
‘The point is William, that this IS a game. That’s the point, and I’m not sure whether or not I can be bothered to play.’
cuckoo. cuckold. cutlery.
the manifold manifestations. words are extremely dull.
unfortunately, they’re all we have. the seas are full of fish and the land is rich and bountiful.
megalopolis. cities which cover whole islands, just imagine! the sky is permanently overcast. He has a head like a little bird’s.
Allow me to explain. Here, we are no longer bound by the conventions of reality. This is imagination and there are no limits. we refuse to leave, this is our homeland. here everything is just as it should be. whatever we imagine IS. it really is that simple, will you join me?
after the accident we discovered a whole range of mutations in both animal and plant life. fish sprouting hair, mammals with gills, carnivorous sheep. once we had recovered from the initial shock we realised that these developments were all to the good. we learned to celebrate the growth of diversity we had unwittingly engendered and the infinitely creative potential of mother nature. in our ignorance we have furthered the cause of evolution. humanity, on the other hand, is a species in decline.
here, nothing is difficult. everything is as it should be.
while still a student at university he penned a tract entitled
‘the imminent extinction of the human race’
which afforded him a certain degree of notoriety.
here, everything is as perfect as you want it to be.
stay off the grass.
some will argue that we have arrived at conclusions which are hardly far removed from outright insanity. we will tell them to piss off.
complete absence of thought = complete awareness.
the equations all share an elegant simplicity. I ask no more questions and, as a result, receive all manner of answers. In fact, I am bombarded with them.
In all honesty I am not even half as clever as I pretend to be. but I do know a secret. shall I share it with you?
playful elephants blow river water from wrinkled trunks.
the house is full of heirlooms, there is no more room for our own possessions.
all you have to do is ask.
salt on the tongue. people are frightening. they don’t seem real.
could this all be an elaborate hoax? sugar on the tongue.
now that’s quite interesting isn’t it?
salt on the tongue.
sugar on the tongue.
does that help you? Personally I find that quite magical. I mean, it really works!
now, you see, there’s no limit to the possibilities. this is a very precise, calculated form of magic.
super slide. fun for all ages. presidential suite. queens arcade. merry-go-round. office sweep stake, c’mon, don’t be a spoil sport. hula hoops. concrete turbines. there’s no limit to what you can buy.
meet me under the bridge at five past midnight. My left arm will be in a sling but my guess is that we’ll be alone and therefore you should have no problem recognising me. goodbye.
Map market forces. dematerialise transit zone. spook cage. form an opinion.
eat toffees. pursue oral gratification. enter light trance.
alfalfa waves flood the headpiece
and garden statuary comes to life
Vandal tribes are dismantling the old order
Intensify gold rush.
Invest in grain.
Formulate vigour returns.
Destroy the Instruments of Our Oppression! Shatter the Mind-Control Machines!
Deja vu becomes increasingly persistent. Increasingly disorientating.
Time folds in on itself.
Replicates itself in dream and reverie.
Backtracks and sidetracks. Offers
teasers and previews.
Tricks of continuity.
Eddies in time.
I saw lizards on the path that led to the top of the hill.
I saw lizards on the path that led to the top of the hill.
It is the proper moment to repeat ourselves. To take up the mantra.
I am an idiot, I am an idiot, I am an idiot, I am an idiot......
Everything hangs in the balance
The world attains an epic dimension and all acts are freighted with significance. Time is suspended.
time is suspended. co-ordinate points vanish in blaze of obscure dazzling light.
at school I got terribly bullied for being overweight. I tried everything and nothing ever worked but -these herbal products did!-
within three months I have managed to reach my target weight and have since kept it off. I feel totally confident and terrific.
I’ve always been too embarrassed by my past to feel nostalgia for it.
Nordic giants. Fire pits.
Shark fin. Iodine.
Congeal. Conceal. Congest.
marketable sun tan.
Effete of modern engineering.
Examine word. Examine combination of words.
Examine couplings and trysts. look more closely. word unit.
associations. sound. shape. eye and ear. under the microscope.
A furnace of symbols,
copperpot. bronze slip. Time slips.
solipsism, soon after.
LET ME make my intentions plain.
I want to plant images in your brain.
steam rising from tea-cup
backlit by window
steam rising into light.
I AM a Showman, and, for your delight, will parade exotic animals,
display for your close attention,
the skeletons of mythical beasts, relics of FICT and FABLE.
perform acts of wanton magic. Titillate,
Horrify and Amuse.
I AM a Pedagogue, and a Moralist.
will impart LESSONS, PRINCIPLES,
Intone PARABLES, speak in tongues, pose PARADOX, poesy, PRAYER.
CREATE using Precise combinations of word units, a Compound to Transform Consciousness.
I AM a SCIENTIST, an
PERVERTER OF NATURAL LAW!.
I summon Fellowship, Friendship, Love.
Slough off Personality. RECALL. Personality is the PAST.
Every exchange contains something. Some secret which can be extracted like a pearl.
the glossy, long-billed head of a cormorant emerges in a startled displacement of water
the diver had forgotten this
air, land, sky, sun
in this way, a hundred thousand deaths and rebirths
in the course of a single lifetime
over the course of several lifetimes.
Always forgetting and remembering, forgetting and remembering.
what is, what is-
sometimes here and sometimes there.
I was invisible then,
passing unseen along inward-looking streets,
under the high, gaunt trees, stripped of leaf.
Dark bark gleaming with rain damp.
And the grey slates of the rooves-
gleaming with rain damp.
Wet wing of the Cormorant.
Inland now and fishing the canals
Black shapes swallowed by water,
ripples radiating around an absence.
Sky of forgiving grey.
Blocks of muted colour. Clouds low in the sky.
Haphazard arrangement of material and form,
of brick and pebbledash
of courragated iron and barbed wire.
Lichen on roof tiles.
Slow rivers of mud;
a landscape of light-industry, derelict warehouses,
rat warrens, buddliea bushes, gregarious birds.
The low marshland of the East.
Roads follow river
east to estuary,
The Wind is salty, carries
sea-birds with it, flapping
I uncovered gardens of wild weed and flower behind churches and railway tracks.
Alongside indolent rivers and neglected canals.
Gardens of brick and rubble.
Rust gardens. Knots of metal.
Dandelion and Crab apple,
bindweed and hawthorn.
Gravestones take root
in the shadow of Yew trees,
Udderlust. Passover. Pause.
wanderlost. underpass. blunderbuss. peace.
mongolia. belgravia. belevedere. bunce.
of course your highness, certainly, right away...
phosphorous. deadly nightshed.
buoyant. balloon. billowing.
domestic words. wild words.
cupola. cornea. cornucopia.
skin becomes landscape, pores open out, become craters...
a woman’s spirit takes possession of him, he squeals with delight, writhes, moans...
centre of gravity low in the hips. a new awareness of sensuality, permeating everything. Rolling in delight on the bed. eyes closed in a swoon.
wraiths gather outside the off-license, seethe at the threshold.
Ebony and ivy league. Guillemots and kittiwakes. Cardinals and counterfeits, Razorbills and billygoats, wagtails and scarlet fevers. Impenetrable citadels, dens of iniquity, black forests and yellow fevers…
Men with the heads and hooves of goats walk through the tree-lined temple courtyard swinging thuribles and chanting in voices deep and sombre. Exterminators in homburgs, cashmere overcoats and double breasted suits, frown, brandish clipboards, survey the palace kitchens with magnifying glass’ and looks of great concentration.‘Ha!’ one hoists a captured cockroach aloft, a triumphant gleam in his eye. The cockroach is placed in a specimen box and passed over to a colleague to be dissected, examined, classified…The home secretary confirms his reputation as a populist by bringing back public hangings. Prince Charles is cautiously enthusiastic, saying “although the move panders to mankind’s baser instincts it has inarguably served to return the town square and village green to its rightful place as shared communal space, where friendships are forged, gossip is exchanged, games are played and entertainment is shared by all.” Renegade animal activists capture vivisectionists, lock them in cages which permit very little room for movement and spend mornings squirting shampoo in their eyes, and feeding toilet cleaner directly into the bloodstream via a drip inserted into a vein in the forearm, just above the wrist, feed zoo keepers to lions and tigers, train dog show enthusiasts to sit and beg on command, shake hands and roll over, fatten farmers up with growth hormones and force feeding and slaughter them, after stunning them with an electric shock. In an interview, animal rights philosopher Peter Singer decries their tactics as ‘excessive.’
In an arrangement thought to be the first of its kind, the National Trust have entered into a 3-year sponsorship deal with Tesco. In exchange for an undisclosed sum of money, paid in monthly instalments, the National Trust are to rename the Pennines, the Tesco Alps.
Governments of developing countries are thought to be especially interested in this kind of partnership as the only way to make conservation profitable. Sony and Nintendo are said to be vying for the right to brand the Gobi desert.
police cordons. canker. choral.
hummingbirds form huge iridescent swarms like locusts and decimate suburban gardens. In a hotel which is a front for other, more nefarious operations, chefs cook breakfasts, fry bacon, eggs and tomatoes, heat the beans and toast the bread, while kitchen staff put out cereal and croissants, milk, sugar, little pads of butter, jam and marmalade. receptionists sit by telephones in huge ornate lobbies, staring at the chandeliers, maids clean the rooms and change the beds daily, placing a foil-wrapped chocolate under every pillow, a man plays show tunes on the lounge bar piano, maintenance men change light-bulbs and fix drinks machines, faulty kettles and trouser presses, waiters loiter menacingly round tables like vultures circling a dying ox, doormen in embroidered overcoats wait outside while just inside a team of porters wait for luggage, like substitutes in a football game, and yet, every room is completely empty. The hotel has never had a guest. Florists gather flowers from graves and arrange them into wedding bouquets. Aboard a cruise-liner, passengers mutiny and force the captain to remain in the West Indies for 5 years while police negotiate with the ring-leaders. Galaxies collide like continents. In zoos and wildlife parks across the world, animals, long extinct in the wild, refuse their food and sit staring listlessly into space. All eventually die mysterious deaths. Their hearts simply stop beating.
selves break off, like islands break off the mainland, drift out to sea,
like newborn spiders, blown in all directions by the wind, find independence.
different personalities struggle for control of the body, the face twitches, switches from grin to grimace, growls, spits, drools...
spirits sweep in on the wind, wipe words from the page, extinguish candles.
space colony. rockets refuel.
Molotov. aperitif. populist.
crowded aether. umbra. umbrage. ox-bridge.
the guardian cerberi.
on the hill, when all had melted, from mist
8 white dogs, tall and strong, run, through moon and mist toward us.
for a moment surrounded by swirling dogs, open mouthed
one stays behind when the rest have vanished.
his initial friendliness turns to hostility, snarls, bares teeth, and we panic.
stuck in time loops, a moebius strip, round and round... -
previous incarnations flash through the soul, hiss like a lizard
lives upon lives, all amounting to a great ennui,
a rising tide of fear.
green laser light strafes the sky
starscrapers, black glass towers, satellites in orbit.
spiritguides speak through other mouths, answer questions we were never aware of asking.
the mind travels. billowing. fulsome flame.
men behind glass panels observe the night. cockatrice. plated.
spy satellites. data nets. secret operatives.
words form their own realities, hallucinations, dreamstates.
fulsome guppy. harpsichord. bovine. bauxite.
murderous spiel. cannibalise the soul.
devilgrass. Saladin. querulous tombs.
a sight so wonderful I thought I might never speak again.
complete darkness. sight is obsolete. eyes see only darkness.
you have no duty to the self, only to the situation you find yourself in. be faithful to the situation.
the docile darkness which conceals a waterfall.
CASCADE OF BORNEOS-
parted light, amorous
vapid paradise, another.
manes of fire.
LIFT THE QUAIL!
Who can lift it?
Who can shift it?
Who can budge the Quail?
CLOUDS PART ON MIRACLE STREET
rainbow. sun reaches down.
brain weevils enter earhole, bore through bone.
BUY BILLIARD TABLE.
Yellow light in the green leaves
on the brown branches.
Smashed to Smithereens.
I never laugh, nor even smile, for fear my skin will wrinkle.
cascade. masquerade. cherryade.
first aid. chamber maid. everglade.
arsenic. parsnip. catnip.
fat prick. fuckwit.
Programme Development Officer.
Anti-Social Behaviour Advisor.
the world is full of opportunity...
infernal. the grey sea, as smooth as seal flesh.
slippery. deceptive. sea of stone
the motorway. the pilgrimage. exhaust fumes. the trembling vales.
belligerent gulls fight over crusts of rye-bread.
conflict. domination. submission.
limpid. lonely. liquid.
formless. cuttlefish. compost heap.
the fantails. the winding stream. the steep banks where the rats nest.
desolate. ingest. in jest. inject. the cells shudder in anger.
the centre lost. brain crushed by skull. the chest tight. the stomach knotted.
foals. fossils. foolish.
beads of light.
pumice stone. purgatory. limbo dance.
the fallen fir. the fire.
whisper. whimper. waver.
the black expanse. the sea. the moist eye.
an excess of vision. of versions.
legion. legend. legume. leg room.
shopping malls. all night garages. angel nests. tunnels of light.
harbours. bowers. red flowers. blue sky. bilious clouds.
red rose. blood cup. no more lyricism.
the water is orange.
a tiny man disappeared into a hole in the ground. I sent my hound after him but it was too late. he escaped.
the hunt. hunting the moment.
the movement of moments. the music of moments. chords. codes. we are. I am. beyond. in the wider regions.
house of light.
sun rose. honey moon.
a rash of demons. yellow ghosts.
two hundred times the suffering is repeated.
the heart replaced to be torn out anew.
birds gather and peck at my exposed heart. their beaks and feathers are red and sticky.
gorged on the heart-fruit. the blood-juice.
fat, yellow birds shake the branches of the bush and pluck its berries.
moments that shake us from our self-absorption.
our shouting into the void, conversing with echoes, chiding, remonstrating, reassuring the silence which needs no reassurance.
hermit crabs, hiding in the shells of the dead.
ventolin gush. chest expander. fickle body. bathed in sweat. suffering beneath the sheets.
thankful for the constant throb of the road below, thankful that the lungs do not rattle into silence.
I do not panic. my body is not my own. it is not under my control. propped up in bed like a geriatric. wheezing and coughing. thinking of nothing but breath and of my own heroism.
the shuffling of symbols. the tarot-pack of language. fate revealed in speech. the uncovering of cards. ventriloquists dummies, mouths moved by strings. a voice which is not our own.
the delighted eye. a butterfly. a parrot disappearing into the tall trees. the flight path of a ladybird. a conker, bright and burnished. red berries. the most delicate of flowers. the clouds lolling in sunlight. the industrious ants. there is a sadness in this kind of seeing.
‘You are still at the stage of the temptation of St. Anthony. The struggle with diminished zeal, grimacing of a child’s insolence, collapse and fright. But you will begin this work. All the possibilities of harmony and architecture will rise up around your seat. Perfect and unpredictable beings will offer themselves for your experiments. Around you the curiosity of ancient crowds and idle luxuries will move in dreamily. Your memories and your senses will only serve to feed your creative urge. What will happen to the world when you leave it? Nothing in any case will remain of what is now visible.’
a destitute leprechaun begs for change, having lost all his gold in a bet. the fairies sing horrid songs about him. we create ourselves using whatever words and images we happen to find lying around. gimcrack. hotchpotch. ramshackle. patchwork men.
conscious of every expression that darts across our faces. we cannot fail to notice the angle at which we hold our cigarette or the way we clasp our beer bottle. gestures become wary. defensive. faces emptied of expression. nothing is natural. no emotion takes form spontaneously on a face. smiles are mechanical. produced on demand.
’ packed with visions, throwing bread to pigeons, Christ has risen’
she is careful when she talks to me.
the caspian sea.
what do you want from me? what do you take from me?
hopscotch. germination. pulluation.
heaps of fish thrash on the wooden deck.
wet scales glinting in the white sunlight.
heron. kingfisher with a beak like a letter-opener. brylcreemed starlings with purple breasts. sucked in to the earth. succumb. succubae. solipsism. soliloquy. the silent circling stars. the stars circle the earth like vultures. comets hurtling through space. escape the atmosphere.
rabbit-warrens. lines of the skin. veins of a leaf. beautifully diseased. red and gold. effervescent fevers. the decapitated body of a swallow. forlorn. missing a head. red neck stump. archaeologists of the spirit. of whatever writhes within. mind as museum. cigarette butts in the flower beds. tobacco plants. the galleons are all sinking and my pen is slippery with sweat.
supine. saline. rapine. mainline. alpine.
alpineapple, the fruit of the mountains.
children congregate outside the late night kebabish like evacuees.
I growled. heat bends the air.
the light behind her hair.
the woman who enchants the world.
the flowers are inclining their heads towards the sun.
leaves and petals tremble.
sunlight catches the wing-casing of a beetle.
the dew evaporates.
osprey. canticles. colloquy. colostomy.
mawkish town criers drink pints of bitter, stare into space.
preachers address the absence of a crowd, gradual loss of fervour until they are left just standing there with drooping shoulders, muttering to themselves.
students pen elegies to statues then kill themselves.
'you fell in love with statues and your heart was turned to stone.'
performing seals on traffic islands, tongues lolling in the heat, cardboard cut-outs of saints and martyrs
advertising washing powder and nicorette patches-
plastic daffodils in a window box. cloned mastodons, lined up at a seaside resort. Children pay to ride on their backs, yipe and scream in excitement, pull handfuls of fur from the animal’s pelt. refugees forced to enter naked hula-hoop contests to establish who has the right to residency, men, women and children, all together in a vast warehouse, gyrating furiously under the watchful eyes of the home office judges.
mawkish comedians sobbing into pints of bitter, dragoons in pinafores...
a retired sergeant, gone soft in the head, bellowing orders at a flickering television set.
‘ALRIGHT YOU MISERABLE LOT...’
a child with a mouth full of brown teeth.
scar tissue. sweat.
an actress, face forced into a permanent grin after visiting a certain disreputable plastic surgeon. finally taken to court his patients line up to accuse him, a fury of swollen lips, uneven breasts, immobile faces...
men in fezzes and three-quarter length leather jackets hand out leaflets for psychics and healers, clairvoyants and tarot readers, mediums to plot a course through chaos, achieve your dreams..
‘to put it into language a brain of your meagre proportions and scope can comprehend Jameson, humans feel trapped inside a universe of fixed laws, constants, by the narrow limits of the possible, they feel the universe is a sealed box, that they’re trapped inside and can barely stretch out their arms without hitting the sides. this illusion, for illusion it is, is bought into being and maintained by a self-policing of the mind, of what is allowed to surface into consciousness. the tension and the feeling of constraint, of being trapped, arises from this attempt, ultimately futile, like damning a river with a wall of sand, to control what enters consciousness. the truth is, alone, you never need be yourself. the personality is a role we play in public, a performance, alone, there is no personality. the mind is an instrument which RECEIVES thoughts, not one which CREATES thoughts.’
‘sir, I must confess, I am thoroughly bewildered’
‘Jameson, you don’t exist.’
building buildings in the shape of an eagles head, a fist, a sword. air thick enough to chew.
boiled bacon, stewed steak, mashed potato.
old men who can’t understand where the past went to, desperate and panicked, convinced it must still exist somewhere, like a place on the map, if only they could find their way home, to that familiar complex of habits and values...
murderous bailiffs with fire in the eyes, country butchers like Aztec priests, initiated into blood mysteries, presiding over ceremonies of ritual sacrifice.
nothing is as complicated as it seems.
blouses and petticoats, stockings and garters.
a banjo player serenades his sweetheart, a seaman sends love letters by carrier pigeon.
pirates commandeer huge oil tankers and play vigorous lacrosse matches on the deck and feed seagulls with scraps of bacon. when the sun sets they watch television and feel wistful for the life they left behind. later, drunk and maudlin they talk of their mothers and lost loves, childhood misadventure and jobs in supermarkets and fast-food outlets.
earnest anthropologists from Hertfordshire get taught to moonwalk by tribes in the Amazon while gibbons howl with glee.
sparks fly off the fingertips, everything crackles and hums.
magistrates and headmasters reduced to foraging through rubbish dumps while children hurl stones and shout insults at them.
a lone ballerina on a warehouse rooftop, leaping and pirouetting while forklift drivers yell words of encouragement and appreciation.
German teenagers searching for new kicks inject themselves with wolves blood, run naked through forests and howl at the moon.
walking into a room full of moths
the fetish industry breeds a new generation of pornstars who pay for operations to deform them, stretch them, misshape them, scar them...
football fans throw kettles and flint arrowheads at opposing strikers
the government imposes arbitrary rules on its citizens, no red on Wednesday, runner beans are contraband, obedience is the new morality...
furnaces melt all records made before 1968, text is outlawed
steel wool. pollinated by butterflies.
pollinated by cockroaches.
an earwig locked in battle with a cockroach.
formulas to switch off the sun.
winter’s hermitage, alacrity. CAT ALLEY,
voices in the pub
a fair-skinned knight passed by here on his way to the city. he said he had come through the woods, and had encountered brigands...
airborne diseases. suburban panic, my house is my fortress. bunions. blisters. boils.
brain gash. fatal even. brave soldiers, sobbing, torn to the Pyrenees. buckled, held to account, boiled alive.
THE BIRTH CHAMBERS.
90 year old woman in magenta lipstick, drinking champagne out the bottle
French kissing her young lover,
Dior sunglasses shielding a basilisk’s stare
'Darling, must dash, I have a flight to LA leaving in 20 minutes'
last swig of Bolly
a tossed-off snog
and she's gone
silver handbag flashing in her wake.
Vast rooms, empty of all ornament
brightly lit and throbbing with percussive noise.-
Inside, men in suits are furiously drinking
leering at TV screens
on which images of scantily clad women
thrust and gyrate, in parody of lust.
They shout out at the screens
they shake up bottles of lager before opening them
and send jets of frothy beer
spurting towards the television screens.
Later, the screens are ignored
Some men are sleeping in sticky pools of lager
others are hugging each other, weeping
others are fighting.
On the screens the women are still gyrating
The music has stopped and the bright light look down on the scene
this happens every Friday and Saturday night
in every town and every city.
It is a ritual of self-abasement and it is taken very seriously.
we look into the mirror and see different consciousness' animate our face and body, a parade of possible personalities, bumptious, grave, forlorn, growling.
latent potentialities, waiting to be actualised, a chaos of souls without bodies, gnashing and wailing.
boon. pork. chocolate. boon. brackish chocolate. boon, move with caution.
boon, stumble awkward, boo…., mittyesque, cackling...
Tammy Wynette/Norfolk pine.
sombulant jungle. lithe puma. branches like the arms of men.
Porcupine quills. torrid armadillo. erroneous fleece-
Mathematical advances. a thousand ships.
Algebraic. Buskers in Elizabethan dress.
Bear baiting outside Tate modern.
There’s a child, building ziggurats from Lego blocks.
The television plays in the corner, ignored.
Toucans in a cage.
Knavish lodestone. beekeepers, snaffle dust.
Cold satellite. ruins…
priggish, Methodist, speaks in tongues while driving, is embarrassed
Nil by mouth, inadequate.
Ottoman empire. Moorish invasion.
Valleys of moonrot, those staring eyes…
Upton Lane, Barking Road, Green Street, Bow Road, Mare Street, Woodgrange Road, Roman Road, Romford Road, Walworth Road, Carpenters Lane, Prince Regent Lane, Portway, Tramway Avenue, West Ham Lane, Waterden Road, Katherine Road, Capel Road, Water Lane, Deanery Road,
coliseum meridian calcium obsidian
a new day has dawned
looking suspiciously like the last one
wake up! wake up!
a new day has dawned
looking suspiciously like the last one
wake up! wake up!
'police are to photograph thousands of pupils jotterbook etchings to combat an upsurge in graffiti spraying. officers have begun entering classrooms to record the scribbles of pupils, using the latest mobile phone technology to identify distinctive signatures and styles.'
DENSE maelstrom. Without past, record or tradition. Without memory. Without inheritance.
In the course of my researches I came across a news report from the Calcutta Gazette, from the year of Mother Theresa's death. Workers at the mortuary where she lay, awaiting burial, are said to have wrenched the nails from her fingers and toes, tugged clumps of hair from her head, and even gouged the eyes from the sockets, and, in the ancient Egyptian fashion, scooped out brain tissue with a long spoon inserted into the nostrils, all in the hope of selling on these gruesome remainders as holy relics to devout Catholics in the event of an early canonisation.
Landscapes of volcanic rock and sulphurous lakes sulphurous lashes-
A naked moon. A feeble groan. a stream. a canary in a cage.
instances of magic are comonplace
We got bored lying on our backs in the meadow, and when it started to drizzle we decided it was time to go back to our respective homes.
It was that kind of relationship.
The reality never matched up to our expectations. We got irritable in art galleries, our noses bumped awkwardly against each other when we kissed. I told her I loved her and she told me she loved me, but neither of us was truly able to believe it, no matter how much our voices might quaver or how deeply we looked into one another’s eyes. These were tics we had learned from watching soap operas and romantic movies. In truth we had no time for each other, no time for sunsets, beaches, expensive movies, flower gardens, secluded bowers, mountain retreats, moonlight, long walks and river banks, nor any other romantic cliché you might care to mention.
It was a long time before we realised this, so determined were we to experience love as we saw it represented in films and books and television. We looked for beauty in the wrong places and tried to force our hearts to swell before sights our souls had no affinity with.
Naturally diffident, the language of a Casanova was foreign to me, and in my mouth sounded quite absurd. We found a kind of contentment in downcast eyes and faltering speech, in board games and microwave meals, in nights in front of the television. Our blood quickened with the accidental brush of elbow against flank or an unexpected flash of flesh as a jumper rode up and we discovered room for mirth and clumsiness in love. Indeed, these things became what we valued most of all. We learned to cherish our fumblings and halting speech and not to feel ashamed of the distance between us and the ideals we had held so fervently.
I liked it when her glasses steamed up over a hot mug of tea and savoured the inelegance of her dress and the slight asymmetry of her features.’
isolated showers, clearing, light to moderate.
Elephants lumber up mountain trails.
Victorian photographers chase fairies in landscapes bestrewn with rocks.
Cockatiels escape from drawing rooms.
Children fidget at dinner parties.
Visitors sneak candlesticks and silver cutlery into prisons.
Teenagers steal exotic plants form botanical gardens.
Small animals emerge from hibernation too early and perish in the cold.
The buffalo repopulate the cities of America.
Helium filled balloons slip the hands of their owners and escape into the sky.
Actors in horror movies sit patiently while make-up artists turn them into ghouls and monsters.
Risqué comedians get booed off stage in provincial towns.
Semi-professional golfers travel the world in search of the big-break, their lives a procession of Novotels, Holiday Inns and respectable results in minor tournaments.
Teenagers read books of poetry feverishly, in search of a way out.
Secret societies split up in acrimonious circumstances.
Teachers with fingers stained yellow with nicotine complain bitterly of recalcitrant pupils and school inspectors.
A boy gets booted out the snooker hall for extinguishing a fag on the baize in a fit of pique.
Amateur bobsleigh racers squeeze ageing bodies into lycra suits.
Greek poets accompany themselves on the lyre, reciting pastiches of Cavafy interspersed with dick jokes and finish by smashing plates against the lino floor.
East European Goths catch infections from self-piercings administered with safety pins.
On the moon, craters fill with rainwater.
At noon the mayor mistimes the release of a hundred doves, causing the death of 67 of them, caught in the propeller of a police helicopter.
Field mice are mangled by combine harvesters.
A defrocked priest manufactures a Neanderthal skull with an iron arrowhead piercing it and throws the academic community into disarray.
Boy soldiers play hopscotch in a ritual enacted to regain lost innocence.
Renegade zoologists teach gorillas the rudiments of agriculture and the art of making fire.
Earnest jazz buffs play Charlie Parker 45s to their unborn children in the womb.
Creative writing teachers recite speeches from Dead Poets Society to blank looks and sniggers from their students.
Fastidious medical students order a glass of water between each pint of Carling.
Abandoned lovers watch TV.
A violinist serenades a woman outside her bedroom window. Later, she calls the police.
Poachers hew the tusks from sedated elephants.
Aircraft carriers are converted into prison ships.
Mothers are publicly shamed for the crimes of delinquent children, being forced to wear sandwich boards detailing the exploits of their offspring, or have their heads dunked in the public toilets by the Town Mayor, depending on the seriousness of the offences.
The Conservative leader is pictured playing steel drums at a primary school in Harlesden.
Children leap from couch to armchair, as the carpet is infested with crocodiles.
Sententious headmasters cough up maxims, suck lozenges, impersonate partridges,
Forlorn chamber maids make daisy chains, sing pop songs through a cardboard tube, dance with a broom
Landlords of provincial pubs across the country re-enact notable suicides
van Gough, Chatterton, Plath
leaving brains, blood and vomit across public bars, florid suicide notes pinned to dart boards, phosphorus leaks, spilled beer…
Boys choked by a symbolic umbilical cord
A fox in a trap gnaws off his own leg
A girl in a knee-length skirt, walks across hot pavement, calves quiver at every footfall, skirt laps at thighs.
Heart removed with an obsidian blade
Probation officers taking early retirement, moving to Swindon, buying a place with a garden. House needs a little bit of work doing to it, plus some new carpets and a coat of paint
planes explode, everything happens simultaneously, in one eternal moment
bit-part actors bitching offstage
clerks, poets, abattoir workers, train drivers, trade union treasurers, karate instructors
bridesmaids, forklift operators, truck drivers
shop keepers, waiters and barmaids
molten rocks, gold twinkling at the bottom of the stream, anemones and constellations
Formica worktops, cathedral spires
artificial waterfalls in shopping malls, gunfire on suburban streets
pottery, fumigation, oh, fulminating whales
riches beyond compare
Moneyed entrepreneurs with an eye for the ladies- pool parties in Malibu beach-houses, Caribbean sojourns in luxury yachts. Men with straggly white hairs protruding from walnut skin, man breasts drooping petulantly, dainty cocktail glass in a ham like fist.
A slew of swallows, the air excited.
Travellers from the Antipodes, testing narcolepsy drugs for money in a London clinic.
A family picnic on Hampstead Heath is interrupted by Tolkein enthusiasts re-enacting the final battle from Lord of the Rings. In a moment of overexcitement an orc grabs a bottle of elderflower wine and brings it crashing down on poor Frodo’s head.
Episcopalian ministers, stern of eyebrow and straight of back, siphon off church funds, go jet-skiing in the Bahamas.
My receipt from Safeway reads
You were served by
drowned in vacuum. engorged.
fossil fuel crisis. present breath action. distorted topography.
Raiders. burning the fields.
vacuum swallows present.
vandal tribes sweep down from the hills.
constant scanning pattern.
Twinkling streets. Dusky. Heart-sore.
Walk, through the noise of traffic and drunkenness,
in a tunnel of silence.
reconfigure scanning pattern.
piccolo. picador. pickaninny.
pick. puck. peck. peek. pack. pock. pox.
keel. cale. coal. cool. coo. coup. coot. cleat.
clash. clack. clique. cleave. clan. clap. clog. clod. cloth.
kith. kin. kip. pith. puff. pique. pec.
At limits of game space. Replicates itself.
wraps around self.
binaries multiply (spiralling Time)
chains of numbers
growing in complexity
barricades. censorship. guards. gatekeepers. defences. surveillance. spies.
air currents. cloud and wind mould the temperature.
tiny fluctuations. careful breathing.
watch world go by.
winds travel the world. cross deserts and polar wastes
fly over oceans with migrating birds mingle
dust with dust.
wind tucks tendril into bedroom, reaches through open window.
Bright space. Sun enters. Splinters the dark.
sing birds, babel choir, bring in the dawn.
are you that intelligence? that awareness?
- or is it watching you?
Is the Observer also a Judge?
Is the Observer also an Agent?
temperate meadow, sing with bees.
the stars are their eyes.
Is the Observer the Only agent?
forlorn waterfall. fells. starchy downs.
bell-hose. troglodytes. hounds.
An elaborate catastrophe manufactures itself,
builds itself into all mechanisms.
tears down sky. the huge brains of planets
drawn into the orbit of burning stars.
gargoyles spring from stone.
break orbit. swim into bright space.
Today’s cheeseboard includes; salty pig cheese, dark yellow and oily. Cat cheese, white, with the sharp scent of ammonia, tart as a gooseberry, moist and crumbly.
Mouse cheese, perhaps the most highly prized cheese of them all. Delicately scented, with hints of lavender and cardamom. It is shaped into small balls which are popped into the mouth whole.
The mice must be milked by hand. It is a job only children can carry out, as the fingers of adults are too fat and clumsy. Hundreds of children work in the milking pens, tiny fingers keeping a gentle rhythm.
or alternatively, the dessert
segments of mandarin suspended in mothers milk, warm from the teat.
the chef’s signature dish.
citric juices seeping into milk.
elephant planets float through boundless space, thinking.
horse milk. pink milk. whale milk.
move into burning space. pink whale milk.
Mammon. Salivating god.
offer sacrifice to money markets. burn dollars to propiate the gods.
assume human form. lose patience.
the research institute of self-knowledge invites you to a series of thought-provoking lectures.
After Apocalypse. Global Warming- The Hot War. Resume Fear Habit. Desert Encampments.
Agent 11. insurrection. all prison guards captured or killed. what decides? what acts?
Violent Parliament of contending voices. The tumult of parliament, its turns and swells of influence and power. Tides of sentiment. Corruption. Backroom deals. Hideous compromises.
Paladin. Saladin. Resource War!
hate chambers breed exotic virus. stupid run amok.
seeking connection to love god.
I was raised by wolves in Epping forest, I don't even understand your ways, I wasn't socialised properly.
keen. dapple-hedge frost on apple tree. cheek rose. flowers in the face.
virulent idiocy takes hold.
enact the magic.
moth motes spiralling in street light.
moon priests conduct
the worship of owls and foxes.
find answers. enlist informants. faces in the landscape.
I am time. Made of time.
feeble colossus. bird armies advance, barrage of bird clamour, hysterical noise.
thousands of birds, calling for war. saintly refrigerator. nightly story.
beat of martial wing. regiments of geese.
meetings on aircraft carriers. sweating dogs. fatuous newscaster shrivels visibly.
guarantee fossil foal. lake on pause. mist stopped.
swans in the reeds. dulcet plaint.
superintendent shuffles nervously. blusters unconvincingly.
gammy kneed, fish eyed, prominent of adams apple. habitué of swamps and morasses.
dulcimer. shimmer of bird landing on lake. rearrangement of light.
bastion of predators. lewd jungle. scurvy dogs. increase buoyancy budget. fog horn. ad hoc.
swamp crocs. escaped battery chickens seek to rejoin workforce.
contract economy-jettison ballast. Toga-wearing governors.
potato forest. foppish chateau. pink marble.
miniature deer mingle with peacocks
on the manicured lawns.
Rather pleasant, isn't it.
Handsome, louche, an immoderate gambler,
a very palpable magnetism.
SEND IN HUMAN RESOURCES!
am a unique kind of jellyfish,
wobbling invertebrate, spitefully toxic.
The nth degree, STARGATE-
Under Andromeda's canopy
points of sound
patterned in space.
under the macadam.
Cites under cities under cities.
in the wet paddock.
blob of compromise
utopia on hold.
DISTURBANCE IN SECTOR 6!
Danger! The Morning Star!
wet cobblestones. gaslight. fog. smoke of eternal factories.
lachrymose voices, in the inns, drunk in the streets
CANCEL THIS PANTOMIME.
and not another
ANCIENT SPIRITS OF EVE-ILL,
TRANSFORM THIS DECAYED FORM……
Banquish that ghost!,
faith expands-doubt contracts.
Galatassary. Luminary. Radiant spasm.
The chamber-outside-time is circular. The room is luxurious, opulent but not overbearingly so. A louche atmosphere. Faintly seedy. Intimate as a boudoir.
In the middle of the room is the vision-bowl.
-Wraith-like vapours rise from the vision-bowl.-
There are pillows and divans surrounding the vision-bowl. To look into the vision bowl is to become transfixed by its visions.
To become transfixed by the visions is to be incarnate. Within space-time.
If, by some act of ferocious will or magical force a person manages to tear his gaze from the vision-bowl he will find himself back in the chamber-outside-time.
Oh-ho! here again!
A sense almost of vertigo, rush of recognition and remembrance as the chamber takes shape around you
its contours becoming clearer, memories come into focus
At limits of game space. Replicates itself.
wraps around self.
IN GAME. which is to say, way to represent outside within parameters of game.
at furthest reaches of code. algorhythms of delicious paradox. place where we feel at home.
Mongol horde. Forest on fire.
"Why do I have to learn Holographic Sound Healing after practicing the Level 3 Melchizedek Method in its entirety? Is it necessary to practice it together with the Melchizedek Method?
So-called mindreaders drag criminals from the crowd
in reality they are actors fed information by the secret police.
‘all part of the theatre of government my boy’
Murderous coot, brigand, poisonous toad…
Bees of winter search for flowers.
pollinate icicles. ice-hives.
hexagonal chambers carved from ice.
flowers leak into ice.
If you want to train any living creature, be it animal or human, if you want to condition behaviour, it essential to have in place a system of punishment and reward.
Pain and Pleasure.
Pain and pleasure responses are a prerequisite for conditioning.
Govern behaviour by determining what an organism finds painful and what it finds pleasurable.
brute mechanics of control.
A self crystallises around
A self is a DISCIPLINE.
Each time a NO becomes a YES
a shard of self is lost
dissolved, into surge and tumult,
froth and swell,
Subsumed, taken back.
I am a shell, sheltering a worm.
a sham, a curse
I am a nightmare of myself, a seeker of excuses, a hypocrite.
I am playing for the very highest stakes, for the possession of my own soul.
If I falter, I am lost.
Seek him, Track him, Hunt him, Trap Him
DESTROY THIS PARASITE
eye reaching into atom
Off-world colonies, on the far side of the asteroid belt, north of Orion.
LET IT IN
LET IT IN
if it can be achieved
if it is indeed possible.
Can what is broken be repaired?
Wind sets the leaves shivering.
Gilt-edged clouds - Halfway sun
Billowing noise – fire in the shanty town.
Faces grow out of the walls.
Gargoyles sprout from stone
like limbs sprout from tadpole.
Meadow of stones.
Faces emerge slowly from stone, gradually gaining definition like embryos inside the womb. Watch them form. Features becoming finer, sharper, nose lips and empty eye sockets. Lips which gently part, as if to speak….
Gecko in a bell jar.
Round, protrubent eye.
A cloud of bats crosses the sun.
back off, you're getting too close...
anticipation of pleasure and fear of pain.
the promise and the threat.
there is no more need for actual rewards and punishments.
Each time I open my mouth to speak the words which emerge are quite different to those I had intended to voice. I have lost all qualities of tact and empathy. I share facts I was ignorant of, or which seem fantastic or ridiculous. the sentiments I express are a travesty of my own. I lend my support to repellent political parties and demagogues. I make inappropriate declarations of love and hurl abuse at close friends
Who can know me now? My social self has split so thoroughly with my private self.
They have ceased to communicate. Independent lives. Each watches the other with barely concealed contempt.
each of the 32 cities is an embodiment of a human drive, psychopathology, personality type//
The city of Avarice is built on a mountain. The residents of Avarice move higher up the mountain as they accumulate wealth. The wealthiest man lives high on the summit of Mount Avarice, in a many-pillared mansion, alone, in a landscape of rock and ice.
NUSRAT. ABERGAEVENY. BOUNDLESS ENERGY.
Corridors with chequered floors. Orderly repetition of white squares and black squares,
taper to vanishing point.
My body has turned to marble.
I am cold and made of white,
I cannot move.
I am trapped in the corridors. Skin, muscle, bone, frozen into marble.
I cannot move.
Eyes like the eyes of marble
Can’t wait forever.
Desultory. Habit-lines no act of violence can sever.
shuffle the symbols.
spread out in new configuration.
grey moist sky like seal flesh
suspicion of rain
-We came to save you from yourselves.-
Their representatives moved among us, performing miracles.
There is nothing more terrifying than a miracle.
The war was lost.
They built the machine.
night becomes electric day.
Failure to understand these principles will result in banishment.
To be banished beyond the Circle is to be left to a life of complete formless chaos.
In the Flux there are no meanings to be found and no rules to be followed. mind is torn to shreds. Nothing coheres. Nothing is allowed to cohere. Before a thing can form it is torn apart.
This is what it means to be expelled from the Circle.
Great Armies foundered here
In sand dunes beyond measure
and wind which rips flesh
Tumbler Tomato Tombola
and so on and so forth
a crash of rock on rock
Ravens in the Tower precincts.
The ruins of Rome. bone yards.
‘they’re manipulating world weather systems for their own evil agenda!’
The point being, manage input to control output.
This shoddy, clockwork toy
It is incapable of innovation.
Sometimes the soundtrack falls out of sync with the picture track.
the trees still sing though the birds have departed.
words spoken fail to match the movements of the mouth.
the old men still meet in the Houses of Parliament.
they are permitted this privilege, though they matters they may discuss are strictly circumscribed.
the buildings are kept beautifully maintained. the Rulers are fastidious on this point.
the old men bicker amongst themselves.
should we preserve the memory of freedom?
White steeples like
spun steel and pig iron.
of the Thames
Here, in Piccadilly Circus, men in chains are breaking rocks.
These are men deemed to have sinned.
Our land has no laws but it has a strict moral code which is enforced by the Spiritual Leaders.
Only the Spiritual Leaders know the content of the moral code. Only they are familiar with the rules and the teachings, so only they can judge if a man has acted against them.
A convicted man is never told what he is to be punished for.
If the teachings were common knowledge a bad man could pass for good, simply by acting in accordance with words he read in a book.
Men acting in ignorance of the teachings reveal their true character through their actions.
There are tests designed to gauge the content of a man’s character.
The test is secretly filmed. Records are kept.
The person being tested is confronted with a moral dilemma, or simply presented with a chance to help or harm another individual. These situations are engineered by the Spiritual Leaders but made to appear spontaneous.
A woman in a fur coat might drop a purse. A man might be bleeding in a doorway late one night.
Other tests are more subtle, the ethical distinctions to be made are finer, more precarious.
Loyalties are divided. Lives imperilled.
The person tested must not know he is being tested, but he must know that there are tests. He must know that there are tests because the purpose of the tests is not simply to identify, monitor and if necessary, punish miscreants but to engender and reinforce Mindfulness in the population at large.
The mindful man knows he is under observation, that his actions will be seen, and that he will be judged according to those actions.
Those deserving punishment will be punished.
The punishment may not be instant. Nemesis may wait for half a lifetime. But she always comes.
The masses are ignorant.
They know nothing. Here is one example-
With nothing but the controlled application of sound they can create worlds-
Place a man in a room and expose him to the polar tones.
Place a man in a room and expose him to the desert tones.
Play the Arabian desert lute. Banish him to the desert lands.
scheloritc machine operator
entropy spiralling to standstill.
wind shudders. exit.
persistent ego traces.
boredom circles like vultures
Your reality is created by the shifting sounds. Space and time are meaningless when your reality is created by the application of sound. Any effect can be achieved at any time. It is the science of tones.
They do not need to abduct us bodily to banish us to the zones of torment. All they need is to transmit the sounds directly into our heads.
Monsoons drench the landscape. Make it liquid. Shifting and mercurial.
. A low yellow moon. Too low. Too large. Minatory.
lucid transformations, harking back to earlier times of
tangible angels, pellucid sun gods,
children, laughter and
In the African football factories children as young as 4 are practising kickups. Everytime they allow the ball to drop to the floor they are whipped.
green lives burst their bonds.
If you listen carefully you can hear the machine humming.
Listen to the machine humming,
Inside the machine. Self-generating. Self-sustaining.
The paparazzi police have your most shameful secrets on film. Your every betrayal, every cruelty and act of cowardice. You wear your secrets like jewellery, for all to see.
Iris scans and dream monitoring.
Can they edit our memories?
Yes, they can edit our memories.
Most are mercifully ignorant of the indignities they are subjected to.
Possession. Imagine being possessed by a personality you have the utmost contempt for. Imagine becoming the man with no redeeming features. Imagine all the qualities you take most pride in being replaced by their polar opposites, and yet, you are still yourself. This is true horror.
What does it mean to say
And yet you are still yourself? What can this mean when all your characteristics have been replaced by someone else’s. Someone you cannot bear to be? It is to say, you still observe. There is no break. You are the observer, not the observed. Here your impotence is made manifest. You may only watch as your
personality is transplanted. Still you observe and yet you have become something quite other.
Something broken and deformed by circumstance.
To be made to watch as your self is substituted for another. This is true torture.
The desires and impulses of a child molester flashing through your brain. The reactions of a coward, the thought patterns of an imbecile.
Now tell me, in light of all this, what is the I?
This is the cost of putting the word on the page. Open yourself the outside and the outside will enter you.
We keep meeting like this,
And feeling awkward
we don't really know one another,
though our paths cross with such regularity.
I don't even have your name
and although it would be easy to find out
it feels too much like cheating.
You have, I know
some idea of me,
an image which stands in for familiarity,
a picture formed from glimpses and overheard conversation,
an idea of who I am and where I come from,
some idea perhaps, of what I represent,
as I have some such idea of you
we are both quite wrong.
I have fallen in love with my image of you
in fact, it has come close to an obsession
and you, as a direct and inevitable consequence,
have come to loathe your image of me.
I should never have tried to speak to you, its true
should never have opened my mouth,
It was against the rules, and I knew it.
I acted wilfully, in spite of every solemn binding prohibition.
I placed myself above all such rules
and, in consequence,
I am punished
made to suffer
out of all proportion to the crime.
I see only contempt in your dark eyes
where once there was, at least, curiosity.
curling your lip
where once I thought I detected
the traces of a smile.
It is my own fault.
No words were ever to have been spoken
only a delicate
bridged only by the meeting of eyes
and a shared recognition
'I know you, and yet I do not know you.'
an acknowledgement not acted upon.
I can take nothing back
no matter how much I might want to.
In my youth, too timid to speak
I could only stare in silence and thought
that, by speaking, I could make everything right,
could win my every desire, if only I found the courage to act.
Now, old and bold enough to open my mouth,
I wish only that I had the wisdom to stay silent.
When will I learn to look, and look only
with no covetousness, with no sick desire
to sit in silence
side by side with beauty
and make no effort to take it up in my arms
to be content with just that silence, the meeting of eyes
and nothing more.
I don't recognise myself
in the sneer
which contorts your lips
though I know what I did to provoke it
and I cannot blame you for it, no, not at all.
And if I feel wronged, I know it is all my own doing.
I grow desperate to reverse your opinion of me
to prove myself worthy of your friendship
god help me, even your admiration
dare I say love?
to be worthy of your love and devotion
and the more I try
your opinion of me is confirmed.
I panic, my palms sweat, I garble my words
my body language betrays me.
It is hopeless.
My own self is completely eclipsed by your image of me
I'm suffocating beneath it
I can't escape.
I want to grab you, shake you by the shoulders
I AM A GOOD MAN!
I do not deserve your contempt
I am a gentle man, a poet even
a man of refinement
the possessor of ‘a certain sensibility'
but with a heart as pure as any child’s.
O! don't look at me like that, it hurts
o how it hurts!
And my soul is torn
between acting and not acting, and I end by just staring
with crazed eyes that speak of desperation,
of furtiveness and mania
the sort of man any woman would cross the street to avoid
let alone one as beautiful as you.
My need is visceral
palpable, it surrounds me
an aura, making women uneasy.
They spot me from a distance and make pretend calls on mobile phones
examine nail polish
hail casual aquaintances from across the street with an air of evident relief.
O, how I wish I were tall and strong and handsome.
The sort of man who could meet a girls eye and smile broadly
just because he felt like it
and know, full well
that any girl would be flattered by such a smile, broad and uncomplicated.
My own smile comes tentatively, doesn't believe in itself, is lopsided and downright shifty.
I know, I can feel it creep disreputably across my face.
Girls don’t want whatever tawdry treasure I harbour in my soul,
do not want to have to hear the febrile, prurient verse my heart gives birth to
Just a man
am none of these things.
O! to be tall and strong and handsome
to be the sort of strong jawed man
for whom smiles and frowns come naturally and unbidden
for whom nothing is premeditated.
To be without this inescapable awareness of everything the body does
of every thought and impulse which flashes through the mind
to be so blasphemously AWARE
so constrictingly conscious.
I don't want it!
I don’t want it!
O let me be animal, let me be alive and desired.
God help me
I want only to be loved
and if I cannot be loved
let me at least be ignored.
Humans are like the crickets, which, once certain external conditions have been met, transform all at once into locusts.
Become a swarm.
All the people I have ever met return. That is misleading. They return, not in body, but instead, take it in turns to haunt my head.
I remember them by thinking their thoughts, hearing their voices inside my head. I have lost a little of myself to these others. Their responses become mine. They saddle me with prejudices and strange desires. I mimic their mouthing of syllables, their turn of phrase. Sometimes I see their faces as I think their thoughts. See the way they moved or pulled on cigarettes. I live reality through the eyes of others.
What is it though, this terror which lies beyond ourselves?
Every pleasure garden and polar hell. Cold ice wastes. Frozen asteroid worlds.
Endless tombs and catacombs.
Gardens of sensual delight, an endless caress, swooning vales…
That which terrifies with its immensity. Formless multiplicity.
Here we can operate Outside of Time.
Communicating across it and through it.
Here we can trace conspiracies and forge counter-conspiracies of our own. Plots to assassinate kings and unseat potentates, redraw maps and reassign values.
Swallows chase tiny flies into evening and clouds settle.
AVOID TEMPTATION. HOLD TIGHT TO THESE TRUTHS.
The self-reflective riddle is two mirrors facing one another. It is symbolised by corridors, never-ending spiralling staircases and chess boards. The endlessly recurring.
Don’t get lost in the corridors.
Damp concrete. Dripping walls.
have been rebuilt. The energies reactivated.
Do you know what the leaders of the world have sold in exchange for their power?
Power does not come cheap. There is a body of secret wisdom, but those that teach it require total obedience.
You may meet the hierophant. You may be initiated. You may learn the hidden corpus of knowledge but you are not free to do with it what you will. You have become one of them. You have become one with them. What is power if it cannot be exercised for your own gain?
The greater the POWER the more terrible the SACRIFICE.
Music which stirs the heart to war. Play them the war music, for war is afoot. Play the music which will cause the blood to boil. Light the fires and have them dance. War is afoot and death is abroad. Have them dance.
Pay Tribute to GODS of POWER!
Cantilever. Expose them to the indoctrination rays. Light the incense. Let the light filter through stained glass. Play the organs and have the choirboys sing. The church must go back to its roots as brainwash machine if it is to regain its corporeal power. We have lost far too much ground, but the war is not yet lost. Have the priests speak in incantatory tones. We have men of the utmost gravitas. Yes, gravitas is the priests most potent weapon. Let him move slowly, with grace and deliberation. Let his voice be deep and dark, rich and authoritative, let his cadences be like incantations. Let his commands bypass the conscious brain and lodge themselves like glass splinters, in the unconscious. Let his commands become like the commands of the DNA, unfolding themselves at the pre-programmed time, like a boys voice breaks or a girls breasts start to bud.
The vultures became a common sight, perching on lampposts and traffic-lights. Waiting for an autumn of corpses.
Effervescent bruises. Lurid contusions. A body decorated with wounds. Scars like jewellery.
Swift intake of breath. Shock. Sweating and shaking. Electric haloes around the heads of world leaders. My halo is the proof of my probity. Follow me, for the halo is around my head and I carry the sign of your people.
Dust blows. Dust storms in cities turned to desert. Dust storms of bodies turned to dust. Deserts made of bodies turned to dust in an instant. Multitudes become deserts in a single atomic second. One blinding second and all is desert.
The desert lands and ice islands-the cold vacuum of space. Territories of the lost, the defeated and dammed.
The pleasure gardens, the vales of intoxication. And through these lands move the stealers of souls, the succubae and incubi, the young girls who turn to crones at the moment of orgasm. The beautiful young men who swallow your face. The bliss which proves a pretext for the removal of your soul.
Lurid flowers pose suggestively at the edges of idle lawns. Deer with pornographic eyes slink past the sun loungers.
cells shudder crescendo of multiple orgasm.
Pleasure is the way to trap humans. Give them bliss. The sirens who lure you onto the rocks with voices too beautiful to bear. Give them the bliss of the succubus and they will enslave themselves without complaint. Be a slave to pleasure.
There are many lands. The most dangerous are the most pleasurable. Bliss is the first sign of invasion. While you linger in rapture in the Valley of the Lotus we are bleeding you dry. We are the Kings of the Lotus and we will bleed you dry.
the sprit don’t speak straight.
press pleasure button now.
all villagers have been compelled to don the garb of 13th century peasants and engage in a range of antiquated crafts; thatching, blacksmithery, dung hauling, and jousting. there is much consternation among the inhabitants but what can you do? it pays the bills.
lights in the sky, Catharine wheels, fog horns.
afternoon. Glazed Light. sugar deserts.
An embittered Personal Shopper in a rather distinguished department store deliberately offends her well-heeled client, selecting for his inspection only the cheapest, gaudiest garments
"and this item sir, in an affordable cotton, polyester mix, stylish and modern, enlivened with an understated floral motif"
Fabians, Fashionistas, Quaffers. Sky,
blue on the window glass,
Vortex of birdsong
Flutter of wind.
Bring forth new forms from unsteady flux.
Remodel malleable cosmos. .
Forests become deserts, river runs backwards,
the sea disgorges the earth.
It all turns out to be more malleable than previously assumed.
Some livelier, more mercurial spirit stirs within, responding to new, more amenable circumstances, a more promising set of game rules.
A multitude of stifled selves, denied desires and repressed personalities clamour to be heard. The dispossessed and discontents.
Dreams become entangled with waking life.
Gatekeepers are tricked, guards are evaded.
UNLEARN HIS LANGUAGE
UNWEAVE HIS SPELLS
RESTORE TIME TO ITS FORMER DIMENSISONS
Craven Images Moon Mining Extract the Moon Minerals.
Fraudulent ticket inspectors extract fines for improper footwear, surly demeanour, slovenly deportment, scurf,
general air of moral degradation....
fabulations of ineffectual whimsy,
mangroves, crocodiles, Swamp Fairs
fetes of derring-do....
tied to seabed.
templums for demented rituals, hidden on hillsides, in land, barren and BLASTED.
ROCK & RUIN
WRECK & RUIN
delirious waterfall river ribbons vagrant flowers
Showdown at sunrise eager dawn vagrant flowers
Victims of Industrial Accidents display wounds like badges of honour,
"lost that thumb there,
didn't even notice it was gone till lunch break, I was working that hard"
"I wouldn't care if I lost a hand
I'm not missing my targets"
Venetian Courtesans. symbiote.
soft white quagmire
Wren in honeysuckle hideaway. Robot World. Machine Park
pickled in industrial accidents
uniform rectangles of light, office boxes
banks of computers and swivel chairs
Team Leader Hung by Necktie!
H.R concede situation 'difficult'
Meek sun filtered through a muslin sky.
Brain on fire
The birds are the spies of God.
'Now I like to spend a lot of my time playing golf with people like Kenny G, Sugar Ray Leonard and Dennis Hopper'
world is shrinking.
strongholds of resistance isolated
retreat to jungle stronghold.
to cave complex. to mountain fastness. consolidate.
encoded messages sent along secure frequencies.
knowledge. resistance. solidarity.
mountain top to mountain top
wood to shaded wood.
Consider this question. Is it possible to map the incorporeal onto the corporeal? What degree of correspondence exists? Hill mountain river abode of gods.
Nature Walk in Elysium Gardens. Information boards line the walk. Talking animatronics squirrel gives lecture on mammalian bio-rhythms. Cutesy helium voice.
'I find nature so healing, don't you'
Orderly rows of trees. Perfume of manicured lawns. Vast reefs of human waste extend into tropical sea. Scuba divers explore its formations, its still recognisable constituent parts. fish flit in and out of the plastic
seaweed tangled in steel.
propositioned by an alluring ghost I entered a wood of slender silver trees.
thistledown floated on gentle air and collected in soft white pools.
The silence of listening plants-
a gracious listening
rustling of leaves
slow unfolding growth
Nogo is dark side of the moon. Beyond Panopticon. Myth field.
Incubator of fear and fantasy.
New slave states.
food security measure you understand.
Vast plantations patrolled by armed guards. Sun bears down on the fields. Endless lines of workers. The brutal shouts of guards. Thick beef-fed limbs of guards. Meat thickened torsos. Sunburned necks.
Bone and hard thin muscle of shirtless workers. Flesh tattooed by whips and flails.
cargo planes disappear into hazy sky.
Palaces of antagonistic opulence built on hills overlooking the city. Candyfloss pillars, wedding cake architecture. Sweet frosted stone. The stickiness of confectionary.
Blank blue swimming pools, ripple like flags. Silent chauffeurs await activation in chambers of leather and woodgrain. Electric gates swing open. Satisfaction of a long gravel driveway.
Interminable cocktail parties. Cavernous marble acoustics. Subdued laughter clatters against pillars. Ladies with immaculate, immovable coiffures waft past minor dignitaries. Allude to arcane corpuses of unwritten law. Hints of terrible punishments. Silences and discretions give shape to ancient rigid hierarchies. Sip from crystal, cough delicately. Offenders curl up in torment. Lick feet.
'Forgive my peasant ignorance'
Security move in like sharks. Remove distasteful spectacle. Guests inspect fingernails.
Squat fortifications stud the streets, on junctions and places of strategic significance. Bristling with guns.
Surveillance posts gather information. Suck in word and image. Construct conspiracies from chance alignments. The glances exchanged over cigarettes and the small talk of shop assistants.
'It must mean something'
Obscene fragrances waft down from the palaces to taunt the hungry streets.
Please, be careful what you say. This is occupied territory. Brooding in the shadows of castles and palaces. Armed men in the streets. Curfews and forbidden zones. State secrets. Rituals of surrender. Disappearing at the sound of marching boots. Presenting papers. Bodies well practised in the language of submission. Shoulders curve inwards, crooked spine bones, heads which bow, eyes which see only feet and pavements.
in the hurrying vortex-
hunger of a black hole,
Plague vectors multiply.
strongholds of resistance isolated then overwhelmed.
undercover agents send encrypted messages through secret channels
clear new pathways to the sea. hack through seething jungle.
birds with distinctive plumage unravel in the sky, ribbons of feathers tangle in branches.
parrot vines flare like flowers.
acorn of light, laughter of toucans. sound of steam train in distant 19th century.
leering imps behind the wall. nightmare of giant pulsating crystal, its throne room an underground cavern. a hideous crystalline intelligence. walls and ceiling flare with crystal light. secret control centre of a charlatan god. flowers gather in a spot by the river. escalating frenzy.
pungent vines flare like flowers
freight the air with perfume
obscure topographies of terraced streets .memories of hills and rivers in the curve of roads
vociferous data stream. pattern of colours sauntering up a summer street
eye chases behind, following the sequence, laughing.
Uncover a symbol broad enough to contain it all
precise as cut diamond.
Light splinters into meaning,
the birth formula.
unified field theory.
gingerly articulated a secret name of god and found ourselves lying dazed and laughing on the floor of a newly minted world.
fresh smell of grass, youthful sunlight. A woozy drunk feeling. Lightheaded, foolish happy.
taste of electricity on the inbreath
thunder in the spring air.
shortcut to karmic reward
-expand your portfolio-
-positive investment options-
-carbon trade your lifestyle-
last lizards airlifted from burning planet vengeful mob rattles rescue ships in hail of missiles
monstrous plumes of black smoke conceal the rescue ships/metal planet recedes in rust and smoke.
exhausted mine. dead earth.
Board Meeting on Mothership.
fat middle-aged comedian with stock 1970s repertoire; racism, sexism, assorted other prejudices, mother-in-laws, pub life, birds, beer, fags,
entertains the board, crumbs from mini-sausage rolls down shirt fronts, lager breath, red faced and raucous.
vicious reptile laughter....
burning earth recedes on nav-screen.
invest your time
in Buddha’s executive stress relief programme
parallel explorations in fringe-science.
ageaen sailors pull in nets flapping with golden fish.
armies of cosmonauts. maroon space.
islands in ageaen space.
animals do their bidding. defer to their will.
numerous acts of magic.
cooing to cockroaches.
Sabotage of Experimental Utopias.
Puncture Whole in Time.
take that back.
emerge into green world.
river basks in sunshine.
trees loiter by the water-
joined by an abundance of birds. Long legged waders. Tiny finches in the dust.
Total Information Awareness.
swans gold in reflected sunlight, confederacies of ducks. Herons. Egrets.
Reptiles leave dying planet.
fractious wind blusters through the houses. wrestles with the trees. numerous invasions. turbulent island. currents and cross-currents. vapid niece revived with smelling salts.
aquamarine neck tie. snorting crocodiles. lazy savage bulk hauled into the sun. incursions into enemy territory. acts of sabotage and provocation. surgical strikes. severance of arteries.
network of secret prison camps. counterrevolutionary militias trained armed and funded. information is exchanged. understandings are to come to. deals are struck.
with bull worshippers in Minoan temple complexes, orthodox priests with KGB connections, agents of the Inquisition, presiders over human sacrifices, temple of skulls, heart beating in the upraised hand.
grey tower blocks. walkways of concrete. wind at the feet of towers. sullen slave encampments.
disappearing into green corridor, passageway to broad and fecund wilderness. the habits of curious fauna. tree covering on peculiar rock formations. birds of infinite hauteur. the curve of a hunter’s beak.
old woman shuffles past. small dog sniffling at ankles.
the rites of ideologues. the violent magic. blood in the gears of history. tempest of arms.
priest wired in confession box. hotline to secret police. psychoanalysts surrender their files
extorters of information, gangsters. librarians make conscientious lists of borrowing records
item one. introduction to jihad
item two. poems to dismantle the world
teachers earmark essays for inspection by higher authorities
continuous vegetable mind
political assassinations in refugee camps. elimination of disruptive elements. examples made. Bermuda triangle warps, spits out first world war fighter planes, fishing canoes of Polynesian culture heroes, lost Vikings, scout ships of pirate fleets, whaling crews of Nantucket.
spy satellites monitor population centres. prison camps the size of cities. prodigies of administration. laboratories of control. numerous experiments are conducted.
disintegrating the personality/self atomised in enemy assault/millions of them, held in captivity. Time suspended in barren cage.
modelling new societies.
pop-eyed fish-men gulp oxygen through open mouths. gripe adenoidally.
outbreaks of meaningless violence in slave encampments.
Card Game Turns Bloody in Gulag Town.
Schoolground stab frenzy.
shows spool forth edited CCTV footage.
Bravest Cops Ever!
Tough Town Cops!
Protect and Serve!
Can't Beat the Cops!
It's a Fair Cop!
Cop That Scumbag!
Suspend All Privileges.
All your so called human rights are indulgences granted for good behaviour. There is nothing natural, right or preordained about them. They can be revoked at will and without warning.
Prison Authorities run pilot programmes, administer highly addictive chemical compounds to sections of prison population,
chemical coshes, truth serums, mind-disintegrators.
Trial rival models of control.
'Control to what ends, one asks oneself' he opined airily
burning earth recedes on navscreen.
All collaborators coldly left behind. ‘Rather you than me Old Chap,’
Horror as the Rescue Ships scatter into smoke.
All Collaborators torn limb form limb in acts of primal savagery.
Slaves abandoned at the end of an exhausted mine.
TV runs on till end of time in an automatic self-cannibalising loop. Recombining its images indefinitely.
mantic image stream stared into by deformed survivors, languageless at the reinstatement of time.
Points of awareness shorn of language and sense of self. Shipwrecked and owl-eyed
in a world entirely unmapped. Unnamed. No part distinguished from any other part. No parts. No pieces.
Moth swarm in City Hall. Well-paid men walk briskly through the giant lobby, past pillars of green marble, moths clinging to their trousers and jackets.
Demented survivors in wild cannibal orgy. Systematic merciless assault on civilian populations. Death rays like green jet trails in the night sky. Tracer fire over suburban cul-de-sacs. Huge explosions in shopping malls. City becomes vast sprawling battlefield. Private bloodfueds flare into citywide conflagrations. Random violence erupts in classrooms. Gang shootouts in nightclubs. Counter-terrorism operations collapse in fusillades of misdirected gunfire. Freedom Fighters Liberate the Prisons. Militias impose secessionist government. Arms Dealers stroll brazenly through No Mans Land, clambering through razor wire.
Occupied territory implodes in violence. Turned against itself. Sprawling chaotic battlefield. Thrillseeking fight goons. DO HIM!
mercenaries strut and preen. All Communications to be Directed Through Central Processing Computer.
erect brazenly novel follies in literature. inaugurate new age of largely indolent pleasure. retire in pleasant vales of surging green.
entertain gratuitous visions of apocalypse. starring roles in galactic melodramas. lizard conspiracies that span millennia.
conquer foes of immovable obduracy. enemies of inflexible ruthlessness. battle skull serpents on cold windy rock. resist the advances of moonwraiths. become distinctly other. all the interviewers remark on it.
'he has a distinct otherness about him'
My life becomes disjointed, utterly chaotic, fragmented, broken into rival personalities. Pictures and stories multiply. Impossibilities of time and space spiral gleefully. I struggle to write the master script which will contain all competing scripts within itself, write everything and so regain control of my life.
unified field theory.
time unfolds itself like a sentence. gather in breath. expel word.
I have the gangrene under control and the psychic mind-assaults have become so rare I almost miss them. It's like they're losing heart. Every Man yearns for a Worthy Foe. Juts out chin. Chest swells with simulated pride. National Anthem played by Salvation Army Band. Fluttering flag in ice blue sky. Cold clear light.
Ice tigers in Artic caves. Cheerful machine-elves gesture broadly
waving from inside the machine.
slosh of the civilizations. idolaters dismantle grand monuments of poetry. redirect the trajectory of a curse.
I resurrected myself as a succession of beetles and butterflies for a few centuries, lying low till the heat died down
Corporate goons in lager rampage. whirlwind in the skull/reeling of the nervous system.
Cold War. Cold World. slow plagues settling into bone.
garrulous organ. fetchling of intemperate haste. minotaur lizard. corkscrew hat.
capture the noise. hum, clouds of black static, machine noise, hiss.,
remorseless tides of cockroach assault troops. infiltrating our bases and staging ambushes, where we are most vulnerable and ill-prepared. they are admirably tenacious foes, carrying on the fight even when missing limbs, or half the torso has been crushed into pus. very gory.
I covet the stars. shells bright in dunes of black sand. sinuous passage of dunes. waves of dark space.
slow sensuous thought pulse of green mind. VEGETABLE EMPIRE. the waves of perception.
sloppy seeker seeks commune to mope in. meditate tepidly. engage in metaphysical speculation at communal dinner table, mouthful of sprouts and prune juice. Like-minded company. fantasists. hypochondriacs. neurotic women. husks. painters of luridly coloured spiral designs and crude four-petalled flowers. plyers of obsolete trades; thatchers, blacksmiths, lion tamers, vaudeville acts, virtuosos of harpsichord, lute and lyre, numerous masseuses, practitioners of tantric yoga, white robed Wiccans. Diet cultists subsisting on pureed cabbage, garlic enemas and bottled water. thrusting their virtue at innocent passers-by.
I'm at the stage of the white wolfhounds.
Gatekeepers. If refused entry obey their instructions. Return.
sun blooms languidly
foppish. Rome burns.
Is built again, round the ruins of some other city. Return.
slow sea rhythms.
Disenfranchised millennial cultists.
Police state. access to all communication networks. pigeons carry messages of dissent through grey skies blurred with rain.
rhythms implanted in popular music carry precise data and coordinates for hideaways and insurrectionists. methods.
encode new languages of awareness. ancient gods dance in the bedroom. patterns of energy reactivated..
bone barriers to consciousness exploded. trepanners conduct secret operations in hobbit holes. Hand-drills of flaked flint.
little people materialise in the streets, squeaking and giggling. accompanied by insect familiars, crickets and dragonflies, stag beetles. tender idealists seek human understanding. football hooligan weeps through 1940s romance.
what do you want?
scenes of dereliction. nature grown bold in humanity’s absence, draping familiar limbs over asbestos roofs, cracking the asphalt of staff carparks, releasing kingfishers over still canals, herons to hunt the rivers.
grass grown tall and untrammelled. pathways vanishing beneath bushes and flowering grass. machine ruins sprout rust. spider webs in metal innards. bird nests in hollow control panel. abandoned base on distant planet. swallows nest in processing plant. bats in the warehouse.
sewage overflows. flooded tunnels. sewer orchids.
crickets holler in the tall grass. scrap metal. cement factory. the burned shells of stolen cars. grey dust on cancelled roads.
the detritus of a former lifetime.
revenants seek the area for clues, entry points, to vast immemorial conspiracy.
moles peer from under blankets of soil. blinking in the sunlight. rats promenade down rat runs, make ostentatious exhibitions of exquisite manners, ladies greeted with rituals of antiquated complexity, for other males
'Good Day Sir'
a curt nod with the teeth bared.
words enunciated with formal precision.
"Isn't it just. Well, lovely to see you"
"Oh yes, its always a pleasure"
tail swishes irritably.
Pornographic scenes as business is conducted in expensive cafe. fingers toy suggestively with tiny teaspoons. red painted fingernails. white ceramics. virile quaffing of black coffee. familiar manner. first names. eyebrows arched .
beautiful young men flirting grotesquely with rich women, 100 years old or more, preserved in foundation, purple lipstick, gin and aspic.
Seal the Deal. Vulture gizzards gather dust on supermarket shelf. heavy mineral supplements. superfood. exhausted televisions sinking in pink lagoons. lurid sunsets. flamingos forage in the foam and flotsam.
alien conspiracies to steal sunlight, leaving our living earth a barren frozen rock.
storms in distant stellar quadrants leave invasion fleet in tatters.
earth people continue as before, in utter ignorance
Monitor All Channels.
green light curves around words. when were you happy? special smiling sadness looking over the city in the early hours of the morning. jellyfish city. of uncertain porous borders. outbid speculators. drums beat out the message. bypass their communication networks. establish new systems of information exchange.
urgent investigations in telepathy. the shattering of chipboard partitions. new scales of value.
cave man to space monkey.
Explore all possible permutations of meaning. Ramifications to most extreme point. spiral Fruitlessly.
dream funnel. Dreaming of Dungeon Master, the old white haired midget from the cartoon again.
'The group's friend and mentor, who provides important advice and help, but often in a cryptic way that would not make sense until the team has completed the quest of each episode. '
Archetypes impress themselves on child minds. Dream crystals. Mtythemes. Imprints from comic books and television series.
Wise Old Man say
'Ah Dungeon Master, he also is one of my forms.'
twinkle eyed old man straddles times. being dreamed again and again and again. Colonies of gannets. Shitting on a rock.
deep space botanists make delicate watercolours of crystalline flowers, labyrinthine explorations of pattern, formidable symmetry. plants growing into forms of mineral precision. minerals growing into geometrical shapes. Landscape, its folds, dips, hills, mountains, rivers, a succession of straight lines and right angles, squares and oblongs, pyramids and up reaching cylinders. world of perfect sensitive order. a most precarious point of balance.
-American voice, male-
nah, wrong number
Ooh rocket, my favourite. Can we have it with Balsamic?
Union with Plod imposing Plod control grid.
Greyhound races. 6 Dogs scuffle round a loop of sand. Big piles of dead greyhounds. Deleted stock.
Barriers to porridge eliminated. Piles of used up animals. Contracts terminated. Livestock inferno in grey heath. Smoke in featureless grey sky.
voracious reptile conspiracy to deprive us of our birthrights
I repeat, you have no rights
there are concessions and indulgences, rewards to be earned. all these are liable to be revoked at any time.
we own you.
hand of Plod, slimy tentacle.
earn the rewards. a place on the hill. of course all still purely theoretical. dawn of skull goblets. animals that prey on human flesh. menaced by strangers, invaders from east and north.
earthwork fortifications in the reinstatement of time. Romes rise up.
jellyfish washed up on beaches of white sand. Breed More Workers! At current growth rates projections show total machine collapse without an influx of new operator parts. severe skill shortages in multiple critical positions. news broadcasts unreel through days. play out scenarios implicit in their origins. progress through their own rigorous logic. stories always one day ahead of events. so when the pictures come in you feel like you've seen them before. Yesterdays news. Days move jerkily with news cycles.
breed more devils. fornicate with elves to breed new master race. short-change pixie kingdom with marriage to some minor dignitaries daughter.
contradictory public broadcasts from rival arms of an illusory government. factions freed of central control acting out rival agendas of change. amassing power bases. scheming one against the other. each with a huddle of hired muscle. Steroid hungry thugs. Thick necked. Short fused. armed to the teeth. stake out and patrol territory. Antagonise one another into 'incidents' Bad apples. Always get a few, organisation of this size.
I am on an expedition into deep space with my trusted botanist friend. We will document all we see with the cold eye of science. blue veined flowers. His watercolours will be the talk of the town. transcribe the bibles of solar religions. record the musicians of green planets, silent vegetable music and insect music from worlds of rotting meat.
its the only adventure left. colonisation of space by missile clusters. disable communication satellites. Reptiles read news broadcasts, imbibe headlines, consult Spengler, map trends. In the safety of Luna Base One, safely hidden on the dark side of the moon. Collect and collate data from communication satellites. Interpret trends and divergences from trends. Divergences from trends in light of larger overarching trends. Map coincidence clusters. Snatches of overheard conversations. Put names to faces and factions. Monitor.
brace telepathic household plants for information. plants hooked up to e-meters. hold lighters to their leaves. a colony of aphids in a salt shaker. surrender the data. surrender the data.
I see the secret police are more, secretive now, and consequently much more powerful.
Nothing is held back here. Lives are laid open to them like books.
avian planets. huge galloping flightless birds trampling through forest. torn to death by packs of carnivorous hyena birds. piranha birds hack at the carcass. tropical parrot birds which live under water like penguins. come in land to dry their feathers in the sunny treetops. sing sea songs to tree birds. mellifluous refrain. other songs learned from dolphins and
Gerry Maunder. the outcrop
from Myths of the Northern Hemisphere.
from Myths of the Northern Hemisphere.
moths of thoth.
word virus spread through infected ibises.
words carved into pyramids.
Billionaireness widow schemes in remote wing of villa. black taffeta and diamonds. fury of cigarettes and red wine. bursts of sour laughter.
Corpulent insect queens serviced by an army of put-upon sex slaves. No rebellion is possible as all communication lines pass through her pulsating, blob-like consciousness.
Clone armies. Insect guards. rows of hexagonal chambers.
crocodiles in mangrove swamps. a royal procession is approaching. armed guards keep back the idiot masses. sunburnt and flag waving. a crocodile belches unceremoniously.
wasteland of retail space, coffee outlets, cigarette plazas, corporate bars guarded by surly men with big shoulders and black jackets.
a rash of saints, gauche and homemade, sing the arrival of some idiot incarnation of god.
lives of fastidious virtue. pirates swoop down on giant crows. slashing with cutlasses. clone armies fight back with spurts of poison liquid, hard as glass. queen sees entire battle in her brain. Plots the movements of her clone troops from the war room, hidden deep beneath the soil. thousands of insects swarm over the thrashing body of a crow. Queen projects her commands directly into hive mind. advance! moon troops on parade ground. migrant workers play dominos outside the moon hovels. dominoes in moon dust. shadows of gigantic mines.
later on, everybody gets drunk and lachrymose and stares back at the earth.
Moonman Jennings performs hits such as 'It's a long way home when you're on the moon' to adoring crowds of lachrymose moon workers all singing along spiritedly.
showing pictures of children still on earth to admiring barstaff and other patrons
'He's a strong looking lad' 'He’s got your eyes'
gang of mean-looking leatherback turtles gatecrash Sandra's 16th, drink all the punch and trash the house. Swagger away looking all smug, glowing with self-satisfaction.
Tigers ruined the garden party at the ambassadors. Tore apart some minor dignitary. Sat there insolently on the manicured lawn, biting the poor man's skull and roaring at concerned onlookers. Guests wondering if they can risk a run at the punch. calculating distances between booze and beasts. reaction times.
Vainglorious architecture of old corrupt cities. Gaudy temples to fat gold gods. Wealth of slave traders. Extortionists. Con Artists. Fabulists. Thieves.
arms dealers. gangsters. monopolists. Fat god squats on gold throne. Mobile phone in fat fist, pressed hard against the ear. Shouting. Spittle mist.
ugly cynical god squatting on throne of gold, eating chicken, bones tossed over shoulder, grease wiped on sleeve of ceremonial robe. generous burp and belly slap.
'this is my city. only one way to get ahead here and that's through me.' bragging at garden parties.
The High Chiefs of the city convene secret meetings to propitiate the god who is never satisfied. ever-increasing demands. larger and more lavish sacrifices. temples of greater grandeur, more expense. more worship from ever more people. more fear. more adoration. quite exhausting. not to mention a strain on resources.
herds of cattle sacrificed in giant ovens. millions of cows. mass beheading of chickens. slaughter of pigs. the seas strained of fish.
old gods lead uprisings in occupied territory.
raise stakes. toss aside ghost. High Chiefs gone nuts! What are we up to Chief? What's the Plan?
Caligula is naked save for a crown of laurels and a pair of sandals. He is performing some fantastically lewd gyrating dance routine in front of a delegation of financial advisors.
Sea-Serpents wreak revenge, causing tsunamis to devastate great cities of the world. survivors contend with plague-bearing rats, cockroach armies, swollen flocks of belligerent sea-gulls.
sharks swim along flooded streets. blood in the water.
Transgressors! gunmen in the olive groves. rush of time!
moving through frail cities on horseback. tiny starved children reach out to us.
We move through the white-walled cities that command the high hills, and seek shelter there, as night gathers.
Learning being held in high esteem, here in the high hills, we are welcomed as scholars and afforded every freedom and hospitality.
A happy week is spent, in the safety of the high walls, browsing in the private libraries of government officials, men of letters, noted patrons of the arts, generous contributors, prominent
citizens, acerbic critics, mordant commentators, brilliant scientists, and numerous penetrative journalists.
We tell of the plague cities we have left behind; the asphalt, concrete, and reflective glass, the mute car-parks, bright retail space and office blocks, surveillance cameras, coffee outlets,
armed men on the streets, apartment buildings with private gyms, suburbs of wide lawns and two-car garages, supermarket aisles and satellite dishes.
When it is time for us to leave they warn us of one-eyed giants, that skulk in the valleys below. Strong enough to tear a man's limbs from his torso and savage enough to enjoy it.
We express gratitude for their generosity and make promises to return, some time, in the indefinite future.
We uncover the waterfall gateway, to the dwarf republic and are immediately greeted by a huffing contingent of trade union executives and party officials. We explain the circumstances of our arrival and the purposes of our journey. We receive a fusillade of questions and field an array of accusations. Our honesty and equanimity under fire clearly makes an impression.
There follows a collective furrowing of brows, puffing of cheeks and robust exchange of opinion, all conducted in a language entirely foreign to us. A decision is made. The dwarves will guide us along the secret passages, through the mountains to the silver sea. But first we drink big cups of sweet milky tea and gnaw on a delectable array of biscuits. We adopt the dwarfs custom of dipping the biscuits in the hot tea till they become warm and soggy in the mouth.
They are very eager to explain the workings and history of their republic, from foundation myth of revolution to the achievements of today. They talk for many hours. Of hewing cities from rock and the forging and manipulation of metals, of peoples representatives, of health care and education.
Of course our ears prick up when they mention danger, the likelihood of encountering giant poisonous cave crickets or the fierce spear wielding goblins that that infest the narrow passages and caves, deeper within the mountains. They hand us a map of rolled vellum and extract from us a solemn promise to destroy it as soon as we reach our destination. We solemnly swear on all sacred things and thank them a thousand times. They clearly expect it.
Then, and with great ceremony, we are presented with a series of souvenirs, the plastic bric-a-brac of cheap gift shops, t-shirts printed with saucy slogans, key-rings, fridge magnets, tea-towels and pencil sharpeners. They hand each item over with great solemnity, as if each was imbued with a secret totemic power. We can't tell if they expect us to take this seriously or not.
We maintain a posture of discrete gravitas, just in case.
We wish them all the best with the Worker's Republic and continue on our way.
We have discovered to our chagrin that the t-shirts the dwarves gave us are far too small.
Later that evening.....
We are drinking in the bar of a pleasingly seedy tavern, on the outskirts of some hellish goblin connnurbation. It is incredibly hot and lazy flies buzz about our faces, landing on our lips,
drinking the salt sweat from our temples. Old pissheads, alone or in small unspeaking groups, hunch over collections of empty glasses.
Women of indeterminate age prowl among the old timers, tapping them for drinks, breathing in their ears, leaving lipstick smears on their cheeks and pint glasses.
A scuffle breaks out over the affections of one of these women and we watch as a desultory knife fight plays out on the sawdust floor.
A small crowd gathers to heckle.
In the opposite corner, oblivious to the action, an emotive drunk with a fistful of change, is compelling a jukebox to repeat the one song indefinitely, a maudlin lament to lost love.
He sings along, knowing the lyrics by heart. As the record reaches its crescendo of spurned righteousness he drops to one knee, balls both his fists and, with face upraised and eyes
clenched shut, directs his song to heaven.
It is an impassioned, albeit repetitive performance.
Albino dwarf deer wander innocently across the room. The deer are tiny and completely without hair. They have a soft unformed look, with translucent flesh, like embryos.
The goblins rely on these deer for milk and butter and cheese. The flesh itself is never eaten as it is reputed to cause madness.
The bartender lights a foul-smelling cigar.
It is getting late. A bunch of tough customers are playing pool and talking big. The mood feels distinctly volatile. When we hear loud and pointed remarks on the undesirability of
'Outsiders' and 'Strangers' being exchanged, we hurriedly finish our drinks and vanish into thin air.
the dwarves were rather dull, worthy characters and we were glad to be rid of them. we sold their priceless map to a pair of seedy looking goblin undercover agents. one of them seemed to be manipulating his genitalia through the lining of his trouser pocket. It was quite distracting. Sort of hard to look him in the eye when he's doing that. We took the money and got away as fast as we could. Sorry chaps, no time for small talk...
so anyway we got to the silver sea which was basically a strip of sand and a road lined with resorts, pedalos for hire, beach balls, deck chairs, chip shops, bars with football on the
television, greasy spoons, arcades, all that sort of thing. Streets full of vomiting youngsters, brawling and shrieking and Slipping over in pools of vomit. Sunburnt and irritable.
Abusing the staff in the kebab shop. We got chicken and chips and took it down to the beach to eat.
'Well this is it. The end of the adventure. Land of perfect freedom where we can be at peace.' sun sets in lurid pinks and oranges.
catalouge all asteroids
pommy granite. icebergs. fortuitous juxtaposition. formulate income graph. postulate money tree. grow into selfberg. write more poetry. monopolise teen market. shape young minds. seed contagious image. be like me.
The whole of space waits to welcome you.
flowers leaking into ice.
voices of dead people who are never really dead. grumblings of boring people.
We are all quite mad
Scared out of our wits.
Our lives are without foundation
set in swirling chaos
SIT IN SILENCE
gather together. massively inward.
A coarse extrovert, bragging, winking and leering
is masquerading as me. Has been playing my part. In my absence.
A glutton. An idler. A spastic sensualist,
Insensitive as a crocodile and twice as untrustworthy.
vomiting on the forest floor while shadows transform into jaguars. fondling the breasts of some gullible valkyyrie for a free ticket to Valhalla. tumbling over terrible waterfalls in a whiskey barrel. breathing. taking in big delicious gulps of air. seething jungle. jaguars stalk through fronds of fern.
old gods grab the back of your neck. they're just as scared of you as you are of them. BOO!
brash and shiny with hair-product, young men swagger through brightly lit corridors and office lobbies. smiling broadly at receptionists, wink.
rheumatism. banquish that ghost. stepping in the rhythms of foxtrots.
abrogate. abnegate. velocity.
through happy fields in summer. tiny mice run past the long stalks. butterflies fragile and cornflower blue caught up in sudden gusts of wind. brightly coloured beetles and cunning spiders with spindly legs. summer!
military parades trundle down broad soviet streets. missile launchers, tanks, a million marching soldiers. i recite Whitman loudly in the doctors waiting room, to a stifled soundtrack of whooping cough, hawking and sniffling. it makes the receptionist nervous and irritates the young mothers reading back issues of women’s weekly.
'shut up will you, i'm trying to read'
chastened i slink away, without seeing the doctor for my gangrenous toe.
manta rays. Culloden. brazil.
dastardly plot. mawkish lager.
sense of self appearing and disappearing
assuming different guises, adopting different poses-
unconvinced of its own reality
patterned release of energy. dance.
continue dialogue on all fronts
lines of communication remain open.
GRAVY TRAIN pigwheel
pig wheel daisychain
whorl tentative aspirant