Friday 27 March 2015

BusRiders Across The Cable For HighWays To Send

My Split-Haired Future,
Nomadic And UnJustified,
A Warring Syndicate Countering Distraction And Uniform,
No Cripple In Hunting As A Sport,
I Could Develop Antlers If Not The Horns For Debate,
And In That Serene Gap Before The Storm Leave The Judge To Cower,
Under Cover Of His Framed Fury Of EyeBrows,
To The Termite-Ingested Gods Of Egyptian HousePets And Crocodile-Shoe'd Waders Of Dramatic Pause,
They Who Let The Devil In... If Only He Be As Suited Through Public Discourse And Hollywood Tragedy...
...
As The RedWoods Sap-Out While Being Tapped For Collagen,
Summons Get ReWorded And Shoved Through The Cracks Of BathRoom Windows...
...
ManKind Shrivelling And Recedeing UpOn Forceable Suggestion Of That Higher Whore,
One With A Devotion To Public Speaking And To Rare Plumage With Forgiveable Logic To Mass-Suicide,
For Clay Jars AWait On Dusty Displays For Donors And Dog-Sitters...
...
...
Scar-Faced  And Vaulted To UnCover For The Sons Of Geraldo,
They Sweat Mustached In Hubris Broadcasting To A World Less Than Perfect In Attendance,
Mouthing Out The Residuals For The Deaf To Figure Out,
A Search-Light Shineing A Bridge For Souls Across The Lifeless Void,
InTo The ClassRoom For The Dark Ages To Appear Ass-Up,
For Those Of Them With Tickets And Prizes Under Each Seat...
...
And For Their Tiny Claws... Clutching Rocky Porous OutCrops In UnderGround Grottos,
Then To The Migrateion... To Conquer And Curve A Flight...
...
Towards The Moths As They Do Their Damned Best To Create Hurricanes
AWay From The Fresh Wings Of True Monarchs...
...
Who... Much Like Humanity... Are All Truly Dead When ASleep.














Tuesday 10 March 2015

Cosmos Sailing With A Kettle And His Best-Friend's Bark

Post No Bills,
The Dogs Of Stardom Are UnLeashed And UnFixed,
Broken With DollHouse Ribbons And Curling Irons,
Heaveing The World Above The Cookie Jar,
For That Stuffed Beaver To Reflect Over Its Flooded Banks,
Adorned With A Circle Of Squares And Macaroni-Glittering On Construction Paper,
Turkey Emperors To Hustle Eight Year Olds In FoosBall'd Potato-Chip Scams,
Tie-Dyed And Flagged With An AirBrushed Economy... Smokeing Ass By The Lake,
Rat-Tails And Pirate-Secret HandShakes...
...
Suppose The Situation Fails To Teach Whales A Drunken Sailor's Charms,
Then What?... The Years Abroad Could Lead To Jealousy Amongst The Ranks,
Dead Puppies And Higher Insurance Premiums For Those Barn Doors,
It Was Bad Enough With Hay-Fever And HighWay Robbery On The Old Silk Road,
All That Sacrifice To Get The Wheat To The Elevator,
With No Thanks To Those Fishing For Second-Hand Suckers And Full-Monty'd Bliss,
The Truck-Stop's Got Plenty Of Desperate Princesses With Three Dollar Bottles Of EyeLiner,
What If The Cruise Stopped And Let Off Its Passengers?...
...
Chirpings From The Green Wilderness,
Queer Sowings Of FlatBush'd Jousts... Another Good Reason To Hang A Jesuit Cunt,
As He Cherry-Picks By The Plate Of Crackers And Cheese,
As Those Stairs Creak Under The Cracking Soles For The Shakeing Of Virility's God-Given Leg,
To Pitch The Boy's Life And Pass Around Comic Books To Get Soggy,
Bitch In The Stiff Starch And Beg For Shoes To Get Polished,
While Looking Down At The Clues By The Patent Leather,
Witnessing The Crossing Of Shiney Loafers To Squeak Before The Hall To Persuade...
...
Another Trick To Sugar-Up That OffRoad Vehicle For A Manned Mission,
Grease Back The Face For Camouflaged Day-Dreamers And Day-Light Discounts,
Dark Clouds In The Bag For Departed Clowns To Wear Out Blue Jeans,
Maturity's Clones... Sarcasm, And Its Brother Cynicism... In That Last Ditch,
And There It Is...
...
Your One True Balloon Ride...  Its Trip Is Tucked Under Your Cuff And Pinned,
Strung Up Like A Parachute's RipCord For That One Pull...
...
Hey... Yeah, You...
...
...
You Have To Toss It InTo The Tree,
So The Bears Don't Get To It.






Friday 6 March 2015

Finch's Hollow

With A Cat's Claws,
A Dry-Eyed Dead Dreaming WallFlower Scratches At The Glass,
Diamond Dazed And Playing For Keeps,
Begging For Cream While Wetting The Black Curtains,
Reaching Around Against The Competition,
Sex-Hauled Keepers Born To Wine And Its Skins,
While The Principle Set Lacks Cavalry For Its Educated Houses,
Breaking Brass To Melt Down For Memories Of Baby's First Steps,
As Those Round The Pot-Luck Light The Furnace And Get Tattoo'd For Tigers...
...
...
Arms Raised High With Hands Joined In A Circle,
Chanting In A Dark Gymnasium To The Chalkboard's Demon,
Pounding The New Spring InTo Cheap Pants,
For The Saints Of Nicotine And Valentine,
Hex-Cauled Leapers Shorn For Hypnosis And Apathy,
Pretty-Dime'd And Seduced By Faint Spells To Its Corrosion,
To The Stone Yards And Their Climbing Gardens,
WithOut The Meals For Dreary EarthWorms,
Burrowing And Borrowing And Boroughing ALong...
...
...
Nipping At Their Spoons... Dissolving Their Silver,
Wrinkle-Maw'd... On Retainers For Crow's Feet,
Flopping Out Secret Tits For Pearls And Hedged Mazes,
Floating With The Phantoms On Through To Bourbon.