MINDLESS SOUL KILLER

A SCALE OF 10 2 WHAT
I DON'T KNOW BUT SOMETHING
I AM DEFINITELY AFRAID OF, whatEver
wHICH AT LeaST IS A GOOD SIgn
tHAT i AM SOMe whAT IN cONTROL?

aNGER IS NOT GENTLE HERE
vIOLENT AND DANGEROUS
my PERsONALiTY oRDERED DYSENTRY
iS REALLY FUCKING SCARY
i AM LeTHaL, REAllY fUCKIng LETHAL

FUCK GOD, FUCK THE selF, FUCK EVERyTHiNG
i DO NOT fUCKInG CaRE CUNT
fUCKING FUCK FUCK INTO A FULL STOP
yOU POINTLESS SLiVER oF WAStE
sLIDEs MEANINGiNGLEssLY INto roTTen FleSh

sILENCE iS ALL THAt CAn HEAr YouR LoNLINess
sO LonLINeSS IS aLL ThaT SILENce HEARS, MY dEAR feaR
a bODILEss WAKE RECALLs yOur MEMORY(ies) laKe
a NOSTAlGIC pORTRAyaL oF yOUr mOMENTARY paSSing
LeAVeS a RUSTic bITTER SWEEt 6 DISC COLLEctioN

jOIN THe dEAd AnD bE QUIET, OR be SOMEtHING or OTHer
i HEAR tHE AUDIENCE mUTTER a MUttER, tHE pRiCE iS RIgHT
oR THE pRICE iS RIPE AND yoU CANNOT pAY yOuR uTTEr
tHROUGH fear, oR kaRMIc BACk taX aGNOGSTIC FOoLErY
a COMMAND SayS, (kill me) COMMaND unKNOWn, (kiLL mE)

aGAIN i THINK aMMENd, oR AT LEasT rE-BEND tHE eND
tHIS ALTERED vIEW EXIST RIGHT noW, RIGHTEOusLY
vOCAl mELOdIES sOUNDTRacK mY fELOnY , pERfECtLy
i Am DISPEnsIBle BUt RelavaNt, WithouT me What Is anythINg
Empty CaskeTS BrEak OPen A Toxic numBing FlavouRleSs Rum

Tired FaithS ARE WOrn THiN ANd THiN, yET STRONger
Is It Tighter And Tighter the Further you desceNd
An ElectRic Blend Of NeuroNs And Friends
bring Together a HaRmonIOus uniVersal sketch
Of herE and Now, And NoW aS EnD

TWO STEPS BACK

As a jack of no trade and a master of none
I find my self breaking off from a new continent
Drifting on the currents of indecision unable to moor
The tell tale weather patterns of continuous storms
Batter my shores and devastate my lands

My sub-continent drifts far away from a better future
Towards unknown territory of maybes and what ifs'
The magnetic poles lure me into desolate horizons
As the antiquated belief systems fall prey to the scavengers
If no man is an Island then where do I roam, alone?

In what seems a history of history the clouds break for a while
All currents and torrents rest for a breath as I wait in fear
A pack of hungry gulls tear at a carcass of self fulfilling prophesy
They will not hunger during the bleak winter months
Dormant monsters stir and wake, as nature grits her teeth

Still, you cannot but admire change or alternate states of truth
Even though a future-less future awaits, hope can still be found
This sub divided sub-continent can still find a place in this infinite cycle
As each grain of sand finds it's place amongst billions and billions of...
A lesser known us lifts his head and knows without knowing, I am everything

My western values take a cacophonous battering of spiritual whys
Hiding deep in the centre of this forsaken land, disease infests the soil
Yet nature has a will to life, and to death, which few can foresee, lest speak
While my loins and my seed take a circular position juxtaposed to my existence
I am lost exactly on my own path, never far from exactly where I want to be

JUST THEN, TWO STEPS BACK
RIGHT HERE, JUST NOW

BRITNEYS SPEAR

An apple shaped wake
drowns the mistakes
in a pitiless lake
of obvious mistakes

The core is laden
with the seeds of accountability
as it twists it's way
deeper into the pastures of regret

I can no longer harvest my soul
A terrible famine is coming
I am without preparation
As locust rape my weakness

Old ghosts are quiet in resurrection
to forgive is not to forget
I am the slave to dormant anger
I stand shaking alone in it's shadow

UPON A SHAPLESS VOID

We are, they are, losing me, somehow
I remember that boys boy
Who learnt to care, too care not
Here he is, again and again then
Even more triumphantly triumphant
With less to less loss and loss to less
Yet more to gain, again against the grain
The sand remains the same again

To all the shapes that colour my outline
To little to late, I am once more untamed
Free to run a chaotic mess all over myself
And nothing to wipe up the, the messy mess
Except other than my own self respect
Get in line freak, this isn't a freak show
Wait your turning turn, if you think you can
Try to teach a new dog new old tricks

The displaced mirrors bends an optical portrayal
Belly fluff cushions plump a weighty soul and we rest our heads
On the shoulder of Atlas and all he portrays
In a gospel of displacement, I look east perhaps even west
Eventually my farmers boundary relaxes my grip
I realise that each blade, each hum of a wing belongs only to itself
The more I personify it's meaning the less it is meaningful
The wind suggests a subtle melody that no one understands

Crusted in a case of self indulgence 1975 vintage
I sup a sip of lactating acid it's heavy odour breaks a sweat
Who am I to judge a fluid ounce of procreation
The apple knocks me squarely of my feet
Displacement, wasn't that someone else's moment
Eureka slips deeper and genius becomes passé
I graze my knees taking a metaphorical buggering

Yet eventually dawn beckons a lucid application
My program is better than yours squared or something
Just listen a listen or shut up and nothing
The 243 will get wherever you don't want to be and back again
Travel booze lubes whatever issues you couldn't resolve
Unless you run deep and deep into the your deeper hole
Dead flowers decorate a second rate heavy weight
I could have been a contender, I could have been a contender

Eventually your meant to be stripped of all your pride
A skeleton analogy of words that pretends your will
Death becomes a glorious release of shapeless freaks
Shadows will form in the absence of strength
And at your weakest will you stand you, upon your ground
As laughter laughs you look, your look around
A sound signals the end of all that ends that bends
Super drastic air born spastic we learn but never teach

Slave to the slave

Whatever stone untangles a fickle web
Is unknown to me and my kind
Sunken to the depths of a granite basin
Our history of history lays buried
Underneath millions of layers
Nestled in the bosom of before and after
Smothered by the echo of here and now

I borrowed my view from a backwards march
Yet we ride, us, my brothers, brother
We ride side by side in different directions
A quantum's breathe from self realisation
Headless apocalyptic cryptic horsemen
Hell bound for some other answer or another
Ingesting a meek and mild alternative migration

In some other moment other than yesterdays prism
I get a sense of relative subjective =ism
From this moment to the next, sometimes I slip in-between
Being here and then, and then, and then...
The headlights blind my idealised sense of when
The wrong sends a shiver that takes me away and away
Everything vibrates at the speed of life then stops.

"Let's get it over with" said the lake to the swan
"Your fanciful spectacle is a mere distraction"
Macrocosmically endorsed imperfection
Swallows microcosmically dismissed perfection
The carpet is plump with all that is swept beneath it
Unladen your brooms and sift through the dirt
Nuggets of truth lay glimmering in the river of lies

The butcher sharpens a knife ready for the next kill
Fear does not deter the masses from there huddle
Somewhere in this bustling crowd I look around
Closed open eyes stare each other blameless
This should not be the case and no existential aloofness
can avoid the vile reflection of that which we criticise
and of that which fuels the fire beneath our quills

A black kettle boils a special brew my love, my muse
And we will sip a plenty with grotesque arrogance
Ripe and plump in our blissful evaluations
Scorning the ignorant and damning the fools
Full of prideful scorn for the blind leading the blind
Yet do help them navigate the terrain we half imagine
Wielding only our contempt in leather bound pre-nuptial sacks


A golden goose drops an egg before all the kings men
Yet they cannot put back together what they have broken
Upon the wall metaphor’s lullaby hums a guessing rhyme
Of which no answers can be found amongst the yolk and shell
Of all that is most true hides a deeper, soundless sound
A voice which is silent yet a voice spoken for all
Whispering a muttering “without out them, who are you?”