Wildness is for childness.
Phantoms ride the crest of my brain,
calling, echoing as I go under.
I scream and kick with my mental toe caps,
refuse the allure of the wild child within.
Hip hop body pop at a jazz tempo in town,
smiles wash the streets and I bite hard on the
talking flesh, burger's ride over it as I suck in
air at a discount rate.
Sidekicks tickle my ribs but the ha ha behaves,
laughs and then un-laughs, frowns at itself then smiles,
wondering whether to defecate on its raison d'etre.
I plod home through the slosh, man on the moon fashion,
struggling against the wildness, dismissing ego with a killer
slap slap slap.
Happy yes, wary of the gods of fire, and the menace of the fat
controllers at the wheels, misery stamped and dried on their
ruddy beer faces like the ink on the tickets they dispense.
To bed and away from the frothy pumps of doom, to lie and hope
and pray for more greatness.
Wildness is for childness, the rucksack pack on my back aches,
I can never take it off, ever once again, but I will flash and
stamp and shout and goad the gods inside, I'm ready for this
weighty ride.
~~~~~~~~~~
Top


The soapy thought-slayer

He pours the oils into steamy bath
He knows the drill, it's time for wrath
He slides his ass into perfume bubbles
Toils hard in mind to slay his troubles.

But nowness wains he can't relax
As thoughts flow in, he's on the rack
But mental shouts and splashing sounds
Send them scurrying off door wards bound.

Then peace and calm it does descend
Can he maintain it 'til the end?
Alas he fails to own his mind
The outside people are close behind.

You little bugger! I told you go
The thought it smiles and says hello
So battering ram of brain pathway
Says Fuck off thought you've had your day!

Now we know who's got the juice
It's me, not some other Bruce.

Outside eyes can't clock
my madness
as I cheer the glossy images
that make up life.

I pirouette as the liquid cools
in me
God I'm alive!

Strutting peacefully to engage
souls and helpers, I calm the
young mustang poorly boy
who sings before his rage.

I romp through board game word puzzles
with speed, mind a fast river to the sea
overflowing, bubbling, frantic, awesome water
my soul.

Friend comes in open top flash, head case
"when I came in it looked like you were
running the place"
I laugh, cos I'm king of the ward
gotta milk it while it lasts.
I really do, after this my mind won't
be the river
just a raft.

Ghetto cries fill my gel,
soften the spikes as stuntedness reigns.
Skin volcanoes recede to dust,
as the groove cranks into veins,
filling blood flow with love.

Mountains of vinyl slabs leave imprints on my mind,
as fans encrust the more,
sour headed duster dead in the punk.

Fat lines of throb create membrane,
but the funk seeps well,
I'm just a punk.

Towering clocks throw funk,
as lyrics awake inside.
Funk all over.

Punk gets funk.
Funk gets punk.

Deep loves may never conquer.

Million dollar head
loves its bed
but disease rages
as powder enters
and ego grows beyond its means

Shitty looks and rancid chat
shinpads on jeans
and dead reptile on foot
humble is an alien enemy
to be coked out of existence

I despair and spit inside
as these shells waddle along
But i laugh and pat back too
I'm glad I'm not like you!

I need these measures, i truly do
and shit people must exist
so we don't
slip
in
the
shitness.

Giddy man
Bald egg head
with fur
and tight trousers.

Learned though and
full of warmth
giggle to cheer folk
we connect well.

Smokes are ritual
in the middle
of sad meetings
roll me one!

So stood and chatted
about the internal pendulum
swapping thoughts
like Pokemon cards.

Darkness
what happens?
insignificance, despair
I often think
what's everyone else doing?

Yes! he cries
in my bubble
it drives me mad
to wonder about
everyone else.

What about the rest of humanity?
What are they doing?

It troubles us.

Fantasy hours in head build my future palace,
but the straw and pipe, horrid front shops and bland,
keep gaze tappable like console,
and I beg for nothingness.

Eyes flare in glass and mouth laughs.
Rulebook strapped to leg breaks up with every step,
I fire my soul onto clouds,
I will lord this bricky terminal.

In stillness my mind wields iron rod,
then tucks into respect,
dreams may whither or no,
who knows?.

Hard faces live in mucky pens,
rolling in shitness,
I can laugh all day at selfish pursuits.

Humility.

Animals in the dark
shriek at the invisible corpse.
Blessed with powers,
still we berate the wordless
and words never come.
Life is dumb.

From cold hard metal
to fluff ash paradise,
wooden bird stain
to oblong canyon blues.
Skating the clouds,
breathing fast and scared,
head goes and sages rant
as the scribble mocks my arse lining.

Seat to fucking seat,
straddles and slouches,
swivels and couches,
It's the in-between that counts,
fables find their home in a comfy spot.

Sitting but standing,
the seat charges ahead,
cover me in lining,
hold me seat-bound forever.

Attacking clouds with brown rolls,
hugging the moon in the cold,
gazing giddylike at glinting peanut bags,
soaking words and smiles with fervor.

Spilling eye juice for heavy limbs,
dark rooms and plaster-cast hands.
Fundamental tools don't work,
passion buried, crucified love soldier.
Stop the world, I'm getting off.

Oh come, come, as she leads me on,
atop the back of beauty queens,
up into the misty nowness,
where red hot pulses wire the stream
and the globe spins on my finger.

But wait, falling canyon dream awakes,
and colour evaporates behind the sting,
bells toll on wires go unheeded,
music only fills and reapers slay my head.
Stop the world, I'm getting off.