Everybody knows its a simple product:
PF Clusters have 3 things that you need to integrate
- Don't bother with the detail
- Maximise the extra mild matrix
Up to this point you have 2 weeks to do it!
Imagine an inexact business:
Fifty / Sixty back cloth lines refracting:
- A frustrated shamrock review
- A short term dumping interaction
Obsessed with terminal insemination art
The major plan is core:
- Reversible cross fertilisation
- Cannot stop stroking
- The carrot whip cracks
- Rigid Lips!
Bite the tick an coax your hands in the air
Get on the job / Bring them out
TIGER: Handle me! Ramble Me!
...Softly leading on...
Lean back and scheme:
- A radio Paris structure
- 25 years a distraught model
Provoke th bullet and fawn in lunch with a firm banana
Probing loose frustration cannot stop the muddy crow
Moreover the pink canal has a bollocking tendency to resolve;
A soft indication, something firmer?
Ermmmmm... OK.
But back up straight away and split for coffee
Its so damn big you can't get away from it!
Take it steady:
- Head occasions aid the easy ride
- A maverick business in a box
The word is a tangible group being
A blue talk comfort zone
Deliberate low blanks
- Resist the dilemma
- Duplicate a complete democratic score
Experiment and resist the witch-hunt agenda
I here we rave the network theory
Again and again anecdote players run through
Saying something up the wall
- Couple a wandering brief to this speed
- A conspicuous lip treatment highlight
10% of managers are bad when its missing
- Cauterise cheap silence
- Wink murder blow out
Open out - cover off a takeout line,
TINTIN ME SWING ME PRETTY ROBOT:
THIS PLAICE IS UNREAL.
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Thursday, 17 September 2009
It Takes A Fox To Load A Car
Listening to Dylan
France in my mind
endless right lane roads
rolling our for miles
under blank blue sky
blazing sun
scent of corn
hot and sweet
on the run
and moving south
for the winter.
Cut into a town-
two rows of houses
hugging the road-
signs duck by:
Pain / Bar-Tabac / Cherence 5km.
Ageing farmers
wandering by the roadside,
own roll fag
burning on a
hanging lip,
shrunken hag-wife
slow in mid road
on a tractor
flab vibrating on
saggy arms-
held us up for miles-
Boy,the sheep are ugly!
But doesn't life
feel as good
as hot pain au chocolat
for breakfast
on the lilting wing
of a southern breeze,
half a tonne of apples
falling from the trees-
just missing the car-
and strangers asking
English questions,
falling from French lips.
Asterix looks fine
but Obelix looks better
and Tintin just left town
on another great adventure.
A lifetime in an instant,
swept up, cooled down,
a memory to unravel,
Take my road south,
hang your mind out:
What a way to travel!
(sometime between 9-15th September 1991)
France in my mind
endless right lane roads
rolling our for miles
under blank blue sky
blazing sun
scent of corn
hot and sweet
on the run
and moving south
for the winter.
Cut into a town-
two rows of houses
hugging the road-
signs duck by:
Pain / Bar-Tabac / Cherence 5km.
Ageing farmers
wandering by the roadside,
own roll fag
burning on a
hanging lip,
shrunken hag-wife
slow in mid road
on a tractor
flab vibrating on
saggy arms-
held us up for miles-
Boy,the sheep are ugly!
But doesn't life
feel as good
as hot pain au chocolat
for breakfast
on the lilting wing
of a southern breeze,
half a tonne of apples
falling from the trees-
just missing the car-
and strangers asking
English questions,
falling from French lips.
Asterix looks fine
but Obelix looks better
and Tintin just left town
on another great adventure.
A lifetime in an instant,
swept up, cooled down,
a memory to unravel,
Take my road south,
hang your mind out:
What a way to travel!
(sometime between 9-15th September 1991)
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Sometimes My Mind Catches Fire
Poetry is The Velvet Underground and Wagner
jamming at 3am
Painting frenzied all night
because you don't know how to stop
An overdose of power emotion
a mainline shot
to the vein of life
Poetry is fucking in public
preferably Covent Garden
with an audience
Poetry is
a bath tub
big enough
for three
Ignoring industrial estates and suburbs
when planning green belt expansion schemes
Poetry is punching politicians
in the balls / breasts / teeth
Poetry is discovering oil in Tibet
Poetry is showing your genitals to old people
in the street
Poetry is apple and cinnamon flavoured ice cream
Waking buttockless in the morning
having danced your arse off
all last night
Degas Pollock Braque
liquidised
and sprayed in the sky
by Litchenstein
The first time I saw the Bunnymen live
Asterix Obelix Getafix
Tintin & Captain Haddock
(Not forgetting Snowy)
Poetry is
A pizza sandwich
with ketchup
and a mug of tea
Singing the blues
Poetry is
the first breath of life
and the last
A sunrise on a seascape
and the wind in summer trees
An orgasm so good so great so gold
that you want to hold on forever
and never never never stop
Poetry is
breakfast in bed
endless words in my head
laying drunker than dead
Poetry is
trying everything twice
if that's what
turns you on
jamming at 3am
Painting frenzied all night
because you don't know how to stop
An overdose of power emotion
a mainline shot
to the vein of life
Poetry is fucking in public
preferably Covent Garden
with an audience
Poetry is
a bath tub
big enough
for three
Ignoring industrial estates and suburbs
when planning green belt expansion schemes
Poetry is punching politicians
in the balls / breasts / teeth
Poetry is discovering oil in Tibet
Poetry is showing your genitals to old people
in the street
Poetry is apple and cinnamon flavoured ice cream
Waking buttockless in the morning
having danced your arse off
all last night
Degas Pollock Braque
liquidised
and sprayed in the sky
by Litchenstein
The first time I saw the Bunnymen live
Asterix Obelix Getafix
Tintin & Captain Haddock
(Not forgetting Snowy)
Poetry is
A pizza sandwich
with ketchup
and a mug of tea
Singing the blues
Poetry is
the first breath of life
and the last
A sunrise on a seascape
and the wind in summer trees
An orgasm so good so great so gold
that you want to hold on forever
and never never never stop
Poetry is
breakfast in bed
endless words in my head
laying drunker than dead
Poetry is
trying everything twice
if that's what
turns you on
Fast And Basic
Fast and basic - this glorious trilogy
a shooting destination
a star called malice
a waxen green dream
a lizard extreme
with daffodil toast
un-mailing the post
as adidas halo is sugar free and weightless
Lucille the go down girl is minty faced and breathless
no waste of time
no movie mine
no vintage plaice and rhubarb wine
no tigger bending, wayward wending
Steve McQueen dream the editor is sending
it's puma d'or
a one legged whore
red tied in calvin Klein
Robby Burns cigarillo
burning in her swollen eye
the paper's in the docker's pocket
a manifesto kin coin babe
she's open wide
she's going to swallow it
lesser me would give her custard
but in New Cat City they shave with mustard
so take your time - beatnik Valentino
boil down some riot art stuff
cook it down and keep it rough
with semtex in your pocket
seats will always be available in First class
(19th January 1998)
a shooting destination
a star called malice
a waxen green dream
a lizard extreme
with daffodil toast
un-mailing the post
as adidas halo is sugar free and weightless
Lucille the go down girl is minty faced and breathless
no waste of time
no movie mine
no vintage plaice and rhubarb wine
no tigger bending, wayward wending
Steve McQueen dream the editor is sending
it's puma d'or
a one legged whore
red tied in calvin Klein
Robby Burns cigarillo
burning in her swollen eye
the paper's in the docker's pocket
a manifesto kin coin babe
she's open wide
she's going to swallow it
lesser me would give her custard
but in New Cat City they shave with mustard
so take your time - beatnik Valentino
boil down some riot art stuff
cook it down and keep it rough
with semtex in your pocket
seats will always be available in First class
(19th January 1998)
Images Of Moving Sept. 90
Ride ride on,
my last night within these walls,
there's an orange road I've got to drive
up the yellow thighs of some hermaphrodite,
she's dancing hard against my walls
swinging manic time to Lutheran applause.
But,
I've got the sound turned down,
radio on,
midnight sounds riding round my walls,
& the people bleeding on tv
are crying loud from silent mouths
as time creeps on,
time I'm gone,
sound turned down.
Ride, Ride on.
my last night within these walls,
there's an orange road I've got to drive
up the yellow thighs of some hermaphrodite,
she's dancing hard against my walls
swinging manic time to Lutheran applause.
But,
I've got the sound turned down,
radio on,
midnight sounds riding round my walls,
& the people bleeding on tv
are crying loud from silent mouths
as time creeps on,
time I'm gone,
sound turned down.
Ride, Ride on.
She smokes - white dress, weekend nostrils. Care tired muscles. Double shadows mating on the back of his neck. Cold water, orange glow of light - stage shadows, cigarettes and bare genitals. White dress lady black, light - red light - hot air on the rocks, you get a whiff and you're eager mad fire, high road 100 degrees.
Nostrils. How do you wear a body? or a hat? Out out out here, timing sounds. I'll let you here alone. I won't be.
Green shades, light. Cross legs, cigarette gleam white off an eye. Shadow lines - glass sounds, subtle melodic. Flash rings, twisting intense black shadows, glistening skin. Dancing fingers on glass eyes, on sleep. Wake up and you'll never recover...
Nostrils. How do you wear a body? or a hat? Out out out here, timing sounds. I'll let you here alone. I won't be.
Green shades, light. Cross legs, cigarette gleam white off an eye. Shadow lines - glass sounds, subtle melodic. Flash rings, twisting intense black shadows, glistening skin. Dancing fingers on glass eyes, on sleep. Wake up and you'll never recover...
Scale skin feel
glisten in slime
with a yellow slit eye
a slobber drip tongue
he scrapes down the alley
on stubble and bone
Stomach scratch fervour
blood stench sublime
with a garish lime squeal
a cry gibbered lie
he crawls through the streets
on crushed paper sinners
Claw hairless angel
stain sordid eye
with a snarl bitten pupil
a rank spittle dye
he sucks on the city's
dead wire brain
glisten in slime
with a yellow slit eye
a slobber drip tongue
he scrapes down the alley
on stubble and bone
Stomach scratch fervour
blood stench sublime
with a garish lime squeal
a cry gibbered lie
he crawls through the streets
on crushed paper sinners
Claw hairless angel
stain sordid eye
with a snarl bitten pupil
a rank spittle dye
he sucks on the city's
dead wire brain
Road Poem
She pushed in a cassette.
Slow clicks roll into music.
Music fills the car,
fills the darkness.
Road roll on under her wheels,
my music fills the night.
Ghost reflections of a double moving alongside.
Greeting sounds, orange plays of light,
mystery eyes wild glint into darkness,
wind fingers play on,
lightly brushing
warm air on my feet,
And the music.
Riding into the night.
Tomorrow we shall arrive
warm in each other's gaze.
Tonight we ride - she by my side.
Slow clicks roll into music.
Music fills the car,
fills the darkness.
Road roll on under her wheels,
my music fills the night.
Ghost reflections of a double moving alongside.
Greeting sounds, orange plays of light,
mystery eyes wild glint into darkness,
wind fingers play on,
lightly brushing
warm air on my feet,
And the music.
Riding into the night.
Tomorrow we shall arrive
warm in each other's gaze.
Tonight we ride - she by my side.
Thoughts at 4.09 A.M.
I lay awake.Smooth contours warm against mine. Listen to the sweet exhalations of your sleeping breath.Soft caress of your hair on my skin. The silken threads of your pubis and my fingers entwined. Definitions merge. I can no longer tell where you end and I begin.
Asleep.
Your heat is mine.
Asleep.
Your heat is mine.
Shaman Travelogue
Driving all along some orange road
in a car with some freaks that
I used to know
engine overheating
think
it's
just
about
to
blow
Sailing on a lake on some golden pond
like a never ending ocean
it goes on and on and on
sometimes we fall in love
sometimes we sing
about times we fucked up bad
and
that
kind
of
thing
Flying through the forest in the falling rain
with some great hooded shaman
turning on insane
reading our minds
just like he's turning a page
he wants to be a poet
but
he's
got
nothing
to
say
in a car with some freaks that
I used to know
engine overheating
think
it's
just
about
to
blow
Sailing on a lake on some golden pond
like a never ending ocean
it goes on and on and on
sometimes we fall in love
sometimes we sing
about times we fucked up bad
and
that
kind
of
thing
Flying through the forest in the falling rain
with some great hooded shaman
turning on insane
reading our minds
just like he's turning a page
he wants to be a poet
but
he's
got
nothing
to
say
4 Line Poem
Some time on the road
We sit hesitating...
Waiting for the sun to rise,
Fearful of driving in darkness.
We sit hesitating...
Waiting for the sun to rise,
Fearful of driving in darkness.
kill King City time boys on the road sing
Hey blood killer
city slicker
sucker brother!
get this kick on the
right time of the line -
keep it moving on boys.
Hey blood killer
city slicker
sucker brother!
get this kick on the
right time of the line -
keep it moving on boys.
Oh Fuck I think I Just Lost Me Bloody Marbles All Over Again
Oh where are you now?
and who was I
in that play in your mind?
that dancing sky
running field
ragged scheme of things,
that fun dog, gun dog, man my star
gone blagging under slings,
my broken arm
her wounded charm
a slashing crescent
monsoon spring
bite my cruising charm
my cut out eye
unhampered blind
who needs to see to sing?
wield the prison arrow
precision tip tree sling,
cut a conservative fondle
on the hip hoof lip free whim,
a crashing teeth
the fleece beneath
the fallen widow's window,
sawn in half and half again
it's all the same this walled in fame
this weird out night a culling game
red me dread me
unwrapping have you bled me
on or over the white of the night
that rolling stops to see
I was there,
now where were you?
And was I not there with you too?
and who was I
in that play in your mind?
that dancing sky
running field
ragged scheme of things,
that fun dog, gun dog, man my star
gone blagging under slings,
my broken arm
her wounded charm
a slashing crescent
monsoon spring
bite my cruising charm
my cut out eye
unhampered blind
who needs to see to sing?
wield the prison arrow
precision tip tree sling,
cut a conservative fondle
on the hip hoof lip free whim,
a crashing teeth
the fleece beneath
the fallen widow's window,
sawn in half and half again
it's all the same this walled in fame
this weird out night a culling game
red me dread me
unwrapping have you bled me
on or over the white of the night
that rolling stops to see
I was there,
now where were you?
And was I not there with you too?
Rain Song
Rain, Rain
all this day is rain.
Your hands are rain,
the river renewed,
the stone rendered soluble
beneath my feet.
Hands hands give me your
hands of rain -
on this day -
this day of rain.
Your hands are
all this day is rain.
Your hands are rain,
the river renewed,
the stone rendered soluble
beneath my feet.
Hands hands give me your
hands of rain -
on this day -
this day of rain.
Your hands are
with mine,
overflowing with rain.
All is rain.
overflowing with rain.
All is rain.
Rain in your eyes
rain in your hair
rain in your ears
rain in your nostrils
rain in your mouth,
big lungfuls of rain.
All is rain.
All the one substance
without substance.
All the one substance
without substance.
All is rain.
We are rain rain renewal.
We are the very river.
We are life.
We are rain rain renewal.
We are the very river.
We are life.
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