Stoned to Death

Stoned to Death

Churning the midnight geyser milk
Semi detached satin, twisted day-glo salmon,
More hits, frappé trips, over fluorescent
Blunt thoughts, mute, negligently munch as the network plays Sandy, coloured courtrooms, veiled expression
Apostasy son, pot stasis
Rewired to sophisticated veggie
No renaissance, McNugget
A, little squandered potential


without rhythms, without case

foreclosure fairy-tale, rice paddy parable,
banana republic mythology this ain’t

they want to be the real housewives, of wherever
consumes four to five earths and what’s ironic,

alanis, is being submerged,
in that which made humanity possible

as thrasybulus sings and slices, they threw a bull at us, thrashing bull,
but what is merit, thrashing bullshit,

when art has as much ahistorical essence as a hedge fund, it could both be fruitless

cumulonimbus, was not a word columbus needed to know
cumulonimbus wrath clouds, that the joads ran from, angry and orange

looking in on the glow of the good life, whatever that is, took 300 years to arrive,
without much in the way,
of warmth

Dionysus in Brazil

I’m not certain about what I was going for here. I’ve recently begun a Law degree to purge any remaining elements of arts-love from my psyche. It won’t be long until I’m suiting up and shaking hands, sending emails and despairing at repaying £50,000+ debt.

Dionysus in Brazil


‘Is this bleak enough for you?’
Hardly aware of her departed lover

Gatting like Gadfly
Gladly, Gats change everything
a new start
off world.

A Citing,
of something perfect
Sunday night, Monday morning
Elusive art, like the tumblr, ought to be served
on the rocks

Consider the roof garden
alone and lighting up an amber dot,
rolled by dead sea scholars

sloshing with soft focus, beaten down by a 1000 celestial kingdoms

none so didactic
as the one that speaks

the daily humiliation
of favelas, and the darkness over the valley


Sometimes I don’t know how to act on my own

Remember how hard you tried to impress the Asian property magnate
with auto-pilotisms, instead of thinking

A gloss over the canopy and the tribes

To be living within a century
with billboards of the present dispensation,

blanked in a torrent
the totality

Haiti, Hong Kong, Hard luck


The fact that love and the universe exist
would be enough
with or
without tabula gaza

How long is ‘sustainable’ sustainable?
A car alarm, a mouth opens in dream

You stand beneath the light of your childhood flat
watching Eurasian telenovellas

You knew when Mother was down
when Hoover was roaring and the warbless singing began

Paces about her room again, alone
Try not to be your mother

try not to have a lingering effect
like depleted uranium
or soil degradation

or birth defects

or imperialism

or didacticism

or communist intellectuals


try not to be… 


Images of love and solidarity

Structured via a two-week stay in Kentucky. I don’t feel compelled to explain why I haven’t written anything in 150 days since no body reads this. This blog has just become a repository.

Images of love and solidarity

Five am air, like pre-industrial revolution
Alcohol and neon to swallow the IT whole
Let me live in my insular, self-pitying world
living the world designed the computer


Entering the image
I forget the referent
Let me live in a world of hugs
Inseperable from the biometric scans and Cartier outfits

Eyesight of a badger, bag search, insignia and daggers


Amazon and swallows,
shoppings list and speculation
Let me live in a gumbo
The eternal hyper-real highway
an eternal Southern sunshine, a mythologised suspension oozing asphalt 
and furred with sentiment

I sniff the scent to remember the image
Still carrying its illegal atoms of something veridical
For the crying like clockwork
Everything but posturing, for the embrace



When the Universe came to Tea

  • I’ll explain my absence in a post or two, although it appears there’s no readership here.
  • Sourly missed writing, but the creative muscle, if you will, is irredeemably flabby. In the meantime here’s a poem. I’ll leave introductions here.collapsed

When the Universe came to Tea

The Universe goes East,
to the landfill surfers
It was a mistake to appropriate a ‘He’
or a human.
Between sheets,
a naked cadence sweeping with the veridian edge
of scapes paved with gilt

From a waterbed hearse,
A council estate nebula eels in and out
of possibility 
Lie berries throng with tea huddles to five pound note thin screens

It sounds like ‘he’ has a lot of poetry in him
‘Continuum, um, um’
We asked why our homes, our jobs, our livelihoods would be destroyed
The answer confounded the philosopher and the politician
and it rained-
all night in the Cosmonaut’s in-TV visor

‘Where’s the eschatological oversight?’ The patriarch mumbled

Nobody has seen the matte answer
Dulux swirls and colorchart cornucopias

Nor sparse, nor siren at the door
Herr Dok, mister Zarathustra
Wave a Wagnerian wand like a remote through the highlights of history
makes us forget
thunderclap: call and respond

The panopitcon zoetrope 
spins off its hinges
so that ‘this moveable feast won’t be leftovers’

reblogs mimicked

A midnight puddle, ripples the stars
an oddessy, a yearning
Toying with infinity, reproduction
All I have is my candour
Conduit not creator


Fragments of Chance Chronos


The wind had  cruel fingers, scooping.

A shop on a little known street, left like grubbied gum

Pea soup fog, visibility reduced to less than a stub’s length


Which of seven deadly sins is..

most genuine?

Which one is grown up?


Tug with bright streets at lonely lights, scoped lens like these

All is given to the cadmium, neon, molten-red obscurity

A single direction of screech

A mumble latent in the music of the disgruntled


Which commuting mortals dream of,

but angled angels inside know.

This is for them.




It was just a tragic tumble-

fourth place

foetal position

falciform, indistinct, pink

grazing, draped in darkness.

uncertain shapes

In deep, Oedpial space

‘You’re late’


An alien womb loaded with soft digits

Mother Earth divested in a town house

never a simpler time

A chimeric town car to be had

Two parts investment banker

three-part sectional love seat

In the middle


Smooth leather seats-

Membraned by code

Soft, dissolved

Diktats, digits, deceit

Inebriated, dozed

Soon to be loaded

with the temperament

with simply

‘the idea’


the moment’s historical inevitability

in the mind of the board maker


Everywhere dustless

Laughs cut like glass

on the very fantasy

That alternatives exist.