Of family repair and grace

And a pure love invented and brought by these people

And this monstrosity called truth lures me away and away and away

And i fear for my health

And i fear for my bliss

I don’t want to shit my pants for realisations sake

But i know i must

A journey this far is like seeing the sun without feeling her heat

The encouraging stroke upon my face, touching like loved ones touch

Fear of the truth, how stupid is that?

I can vouch for nothing and if i cry i now know it means nothing

Suicide appeals like eating balls of shit

Papapapapapapa

Losing your ties

Losing your bonds

Sam in the loneliness of Cornwall where kerouacs wondrous waves crash the shores

Admiration of his battle strength seen in my eyes as great as winning a war

A war it is

Losing the ties

Needed or not?

Confused?

Justifying my poor actions?

The time is ticking and time leads to the present and I'm thinking

The beauty of a life which had to come and go

My Life

Beautiful life, heavenly girlfriend, angelic faces of friendship

My spirits are ideal

I, not understandably, dwell in optimism

And know the sun the moon and the stars are watching in near bliss

Ah,

the mystical wizard of destiny may tap my left shoulder at any second.

Bedroom, between walls of illuminous catastrophes

In between minds full of haberdashery

Catastrophes dressed as laughable cats

Sticking extra long arms on my ears and legs in my moustache!

Feeling incomplete yet patient

Its some connection to this cute little devily shaped thing

That keeps popping through my window

Saying 'Come over here man, God is wrong'

Hah, the cheeky Impish little git!

The top robot I am sure

As sure as sure is real

Her well timed arrival to the touch of my penis

Complimenting my effervescence in my time of need

And now her sudden abstinence from my arms!

The minx blowtorch babe!

Mixed up monster horse!

Makes me want to squeal monstrosities at pigs

But peace sweeps my body home to truth

And I see love conquers pain and that pain only leads to pain

Dancing down the streets of coloured arms and smiling toys

Treated like a baby

People say one day I'll have to get a proper job

'Baby, you gotta live like a real robot'

I like monkeys more than robots

Fluid and restful

Wandering mindfully

With thoughts as gentle as;

And

'What is love anyway?'

Backpack on, travelling home early hours of the morning

Red wine glowing like warm hands on full tummy

Talked about this love of women to the garage attendant

Recently befriended through drunkard excellence

Shopkeeper with such disobedience and anger

His tone tamed by angers absent lips

Bothered by his own existence

And the entirety of women

His life arranged by religions mist

We talked love and change

He believed no change

The magpie crashed just metres from my eternal presence

And swung branch to branch

As if a rat had stolen some dead birds body

Whom I followed for some steps

Stray and scruffy, no strangling securities

I shouted the dog politely, and its head turned straight to my face

ugh, what an intrusive face!

Face of space, face of fear, attack face, run face, disrespect face, old face, new face

Eternal face, blue eyes, brown eyes, purple eyes, eyes of India, eyes of Japan

Eyes of Majorca

Eyes of remembrance

Eyes of war

Eyes reminiscent of local childhood bullies and streets of wrinkled violence

Eyes forced into an uncomfortable glare making simple seconds pass like millenniums

And my very own eyes are his paws!

Through the iron gates and gradually darkness took him from my vision

Trotting down past, I imagine, the horseshoe-maker and the friendly cobbler

Then the fishmonger, who waves protectively over his doomed bright crabbies

Who wish the ways of the water, whether forgotten to them or not

'Because evolution says we should go home!' squeal the crabbles

Through their subconscious love buttons

And off trots the dog

Past the screaming crabs

In a dream or not

Perfectly forgotten by the crabs who move to pastures new and old

The horses trot, the dogs malice, and the thoughts of the crab

All float mysteriously

Smiling like Indians in warm wig-wams

Down to the comforting bed of the lord

Down to old Eddies knacker-yard

There are two options at every instant

If you are good and true to yourself you will feel good

If you are bad and false to yourself then you will feel bad

I know it sounds simple but these two options strangle me

Sun or rain, every second, of every day…

Now I must leave my page and you must lead your life

…hope this helps

My cells are separating

Emancipating from the slavery as Marley yodelled

Flying slightly

Under the serene influence of Ivan Morrison

Of another mans cells

Separating

Matter to matter

Dust to floating dust

Flickered by the tongue of wind and gently spread by the lips of love

Remember the simplistic experiments

Where mass condensed and passed through a life of its own

Released as evaporating angels

Under the touch of a simple Bunsen burners flame

Then re-incarnated as untouchable gases!

Such rational amazement!

This big re-incarnation bafflement

Lying there, as sweet as a true mistress

Too obvious for our unopened eyes

One tangible touch of heat

And cells stretching to where they wish !

Venturing honestly

Into the waves of the nagual

Fearless into the unfathomable

With no recollection of illegality

Or even lucidity

I want to comfort you

And you too want to comfort me

For we can listen to the air that whispers

And dive the waves of sanctuary that wash up on the sandy shores of the mind

to see the souls of separated structures

Vast and wide

Rapturous visions of life

lying closer to the eye than the eye itself!

The eye

With vision, ethereal

The eye

With will, gone…

Fizzle

Floating through non-existence

Into Oneness and out of nothingness

Pretty little scrumptious nothingness

Releasing the noose of expectation

Before beheading the strain of explanation

Music cuts off my arms

Rips off my umbilical length

Tears apart my rib-cage

Grinds at my pelvis

Slices my forearms

Masturbates on my smooth, clean hair

Glues together my lips

Daggers my eyelids

Strokes my scratches

Scratches my sores

Cleaves off my fingers

Lacerates my intestines

Pressures my thumping heart

Until all that’s left is heavenly perception

Whilst time stops

And when I exist again

The clock exists again

My steps exist again

And walk meditatively

Toward the next apocalypse

I say God

You envisage beards flying through space

God - all

Just simply everything

A meat pie with a fly on it

Now aint that bad !!!!!

Ah Man, Its just gods fingernail

God, love, truth, simplicity

Such sincerity

I pray mercy for you feather dusters

Tickling and tickling away

Whispering 'fingernails….

We must find more fingernails'

I feel strongly about nothing at this instant

I am neither weak nor pitiful

I am even

I am a circus tightrope walker

I am a crow on an unused telephone line

I am a bowl continually rolling down an endless alley

No need to correct me

I am beside you

Watching

Your lovely curls and the way you sway and swirl and use your curls

Instead of words to choose direction

I am beside you

Listening

I am your ears

Your words - 'I will find love!!!'

Your thoughts sneak to the foggy hillside peaks

Screaming - 'Will i find love?'

I am beside you

As is love

As is the pencil portrait of my dog with his floppy ears

Malfunctioning charmingly

As is the greasy pilchard dish cooked and served on

Comfortable tables alongside mediterranean sand grains

Erupting between toes, warm and homely

As is the packet of boiled sweets you purchased and consumed

With mouth-watering intensity, licking your lips as men oozed by

Eyes on eyes, with no return

As is the big biscuit tin holding the most picturesque money in the world

As are the living and the dead and the monsters

And the creators who never existed

As are the worlds never spoken of

As are the words never spoken and the garbage can fish skeletons

bought for millions

As is the pure orange juice that settles in a simple glass

Where luscious clippings of orange rest in the basement

Collecting for the last magical gulp

As are the supermodels and cowboy heroes

As are the peasants and the earls

Acting with thoughts and noughts and crosses

Moving, tempting, helping, scalping, tickling

Identify her little feet alongside everything

Everyone and thing

Inside of you

Beside you

Just lying there in your accurately woven picnic hamper

With such a pleasant bow

Conflict

 Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

 *

Time Is Ridiculous

In the blameless mental hospital called earth

Both timeless and ridiculous

Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

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