The Day Theresa May Wept

a half-boiled human lobster thrown into a freezer
then thawed on top of an atomic toaster made of g.m.-pentagram plasticised salmon
the trademark ball-and-chain regalia dissecting her wracking
                                                            neck plumes suited and booted
locking-on the gladed microphones choked to gurgle
a jittery siren ululating on a sinking energy drink super-tanker
twas the day lady-to-be theresa may wept
her parchment mozzarella face atlantian blotting paper all abs and deltoids..

smear-blobule red riding hood spangled vamp pins strided matronly
sidewinder eyelids baleful mental hospital magnolia cobra
my ears were shot to bled bits though
i was vacuuming the carpet listening to motorhead so..

she was on the telly muted mutating
as she spoke i attempted to lip-read her message
words rolled below anyhow
theresa. may. resigns.
so why would she do this
vacuuming men with growling bass-slatted ears lactating needed to know..

she looked up as gravity pounded down nitrogen termites/sheet-metal terrapins
she held back a sob
like an elderly diana-like gone saturnine/180/not killed by mi5
clue the smirking boys behind the hearse milady..

breathe love breathe..i thought feeling all tender..

she opened her mouth in different ways
twinned-city lips swerve-skidded-pursed shapes lurid/gimp-masked
out-gassing rebar budgerigar
theresa may miming lemmy live
now that is what i call karaoke..

so vacuuming listening to motorhead this is what i lip-read..
lord knows i tried
but something inside me died
i cried and i cried
i saw those photographs and reports
the hospitals and school buses bombed in yemen..
she paused – looked up
..with missiles to saudi ~ we sold them
i killed those children
as did my predecessors
then there was idlib etcetera
so sorry i condemn the white helmets unequivocally
syria sorry
i resign
i cannot bear it all
i love my country...

and with that she stumbled back
i thought she had no heart
but the tears they were real enough
no way you could fake that..

That Old Man

navigating over fences by lamp post starlight
peering through windows any nosey neighbours around
slash windows slide/ locks deft force applied
pliers for burglar alarms..

the mementos trashed personal effects pissed on or cashed
their insurance will cover it so what is the problem
only after a few hundred times he might do some time
a university no tutorial fees..

..then back again where the customer never asks
victims sometimes so traumatised they up sticks/move on
i knew an elderly neighbour who passed away from shock
he was so shaken
and what are the chances he is not the only one..

it is only stuff though is it not..
only mortar and bricks and shit
it should not be seen as personal..
people get shot and stabbed is that not much worse..
that old man would have died soon anyway
let us get our priorities straight here..
yeah okay..

the burglar never knew what he did to that old man
he carried on and carried on most certainly
and the full effects of shock were a month or so delayed
the connection made only conjecture
so much for his broken heart-trashed memories..

next..

You Are A Soldier In A Cosmic War

what promised land soon for the orange jesus
june buckingham palace an august jerusalem
the pope and the archons
what do they all really love
we can do more than wonder..

space lizardology ra and bees
paedo industries diseased minds epstein islands
walking like an egyptian
and much more besides..

hang on with your souls folks
hang on with your souls
allow the glimmers and glimpses to toughen the target
hold on and hang on with your souls..

a test a destination the journey
an incarnation a saturn return
wise ones departed higher realms witness
who know who knows..

often I tell myself
even as I fail and fail again love elusive is still love real
still I fail yet and yet
in the madness
perhaps an aspect might prevail..

in the silence revealed
the golden void voice
the river the ever-flowing river
wrenching overwhelming incomprehensible
the river the river..

how many broken hearts the universe utterly crushed
in all the frequencies and octaves
oceans and planets dust..

you are a soldier in a cosmic war
hang on with your soul
hang on with your soul
it is imperishable
hang on with your soul
for you will meet again
and perhaps so will we..

the powers that be will do their thing
and i imagine it will not be easy for them..

Homer Incubators

synthetic bobble daisy-cutter talking heads gurgle langley-scribed screeds
fake-left/alt-right commando-commentariat limbo creed divide
gargle-spit operation distraction engineers reify ventriloquism
origami programmers launch contorted impassioned homer simpsons
bombs enfold false flags far far away
greased palm silence oozes from the opinion-makers
test tube celebrities pretend for peace
hiding in plain sight whited-out millions deleted shredded shred
then again has it not always been the way..

weddings funerals hospitals attack and attack our drones
pregnant iraqi women taunted our tony his precision cluster bombs
locust-sky-shat landmines a mini somme and a somme and a somme
and friendly-fire tomorrowlands will tend stillborn incubators legion
when will they learn
on and on and on and on
bread and circuses back home
bread and circuses back home
on and on and on
anyway where is any yemen but everywhere nowhere..

the palace of debt and decadence
where magical box-cutters thrive
plastic passports never melt there
and by the time most realise..

body bag discrepancies sloppy drills cartwheel heroes
sculpted legacy presstitutes flip kaleidoscopic thrills
identity politics and cookie-cut patriotism skim brains the same
resurrected icons dead alive offered new assignments to entrain
a little surgery a misandry refresh a monarch butterfly
a generous silence sealed with a threat and a stipend
new stained glass actors new gestures verbatim
for your discerning pleasure seriatim enter and enter stage right
grinded distortion mirrors refract the bewitched audience breath
on-low satanic world monsoons pouring pouring entertain us all to death..

Wuthering Heights For A Dating World

dating apps mostly are fucking apps
the veneer is screen glass thin
swipe the slabbed product-placement left or right
vet the meet market abattoir for the tendered night
drink the cool aid for skin-on-skin
no pressure
no pressure
no screen within to wallow....

so different from linked-in..
present your sensualist cv
splurge your body/ flex your arms
curate any injected charms
flesh-vie fecund fluoridated flesh barns
pout your lips as subtle as a bow
pump your muscles
high-five yourself then bid low
shivering timbers for the in and out
crisis act that it is not what it is all about..

the spurned/ the blackmailers/ in the shadows assorted surveillance warriors
the hr recruitment moral police/ the majesty spooks/ the honey-trap sorcerers
subterranean concision wordsmiths hot-key and freeze-frame quick sand
your lust pump-prime-downloaded - every slaking ferret stand
perhaps to be exchanged in the shadowlands
such are dark-web marketing materials
data-driven algorithmic mystics at prayer
their cup poureth over the a.i.
the trolls and the stalkers and the black-hats and the indestructable cloud servers
geared up for the sonic booms of the time-boomerang
thus we are never alone alone
privacy agreements sign seal and deliver our very flesh our very bones bones..

dating apps mostly are fucking apps
the voluptuary duck-and-cover
barbara cartland porn-hub
heathcliff on zero-hours
for i am dating right now read I am fucking right now
i won’t tell you your name and moreover i won’t tell me mine
deal
then bring the dead fish balloons
be quick – kinda pressed here for quality-time..

tell me about yourself
i like dating
oh i like that too
wow we have so much in common already how uncanny
goodbye hello farewell you kindly
now get lost so nice to meet you..you..you
and next..next..next..
and how do you do..you do..you do..
i need you now..now..now so cannot cancel..cancel..cancel..
and i have options..
and i have options..
and i have options..

Coinkidinks Occulted Haiku

al aqsa mosque/ notre dame
catch fire at the same time ~
venezuela/ yemen/ iran..

What Is Space

what is                                                                                                                                       space
                 

is the clean part of the poetry page
unsullied by words
usually on the right-hand side >>

                                               << sometimes the wrong-hand side


that my friend is a poem ~ your lightbulb moment ~ space maketh the poem
still you say                                              uh     huh

only because  they never taught you that at school I bet
or those creative writing classes..colon

                                                                                                                                                          okay
                         so today we will learn about how to do perfect space and challenge words


                              Great poets have always utilised space - discuss

Answer (without calculator):

pan-psychists dropping naut droplets and flying
the sweat lodge the shaman the cactus
mother ayahuasca flew to space more than nasa
a garden gnome a tea cosy a non-gender specific air cabin crew trolley..

n           ever                                                                                                  ot
a
s           traight                                                                                              pace
a          nswer                                                                                               gency


Answer (with calculator):

operation paperclip formula

                                                    = what could go wrong


End of Answer


I sometimes spend more time filling in the space
than

       f
           a
             /

                  __
                        !
                          
                                Z
                            
                                       g
                                                 on the words
the words are incidental
have you any idea the poet-thought that goes into thinking of
                                                         

                                                                e
                                         c

                   a

                                         p

                                                                 s
                                                                                          

philistines might argue
all the trees that would be saved
all that space that would be saved
if poetry was not a thing
like a soft drink that claims to be the real thing ~ that real

question scientific orthodoxy will get you banned for being unorthodox
so i will say my mind is outside my head
in the past esp still existed
hang on to the streisand effect
as scientific materialists phase-locking fear mission-drift
they do not believe miracles exist ~ apart from their big baaaang..

fewer pages equal fewer murdered trees
no tortured men with tresses
see what I did there
trees/ tresses
when was the last time a dinosaur did that
or a tree.. 

                           r         s           e
                  t                p                   e
                                     a
                                     c
                                     e
                                     =
                                                                                                                                                                                              
how many virtual trees and dinosaurs have died just for that last five lines
and if you were not reading this they would still be alive
you encouraged me to write this

do not dare pass the buck

your fault entirely

you are not the victim here
 
                                            it is all mememememe                              with you

s            pac                            e                                          s                pac                              e

(for beginners
the space above has been underlined for ease of reference
like the space above)

if dinosaurs were dead french wordsmiths named

m                  allar
        me
they might have bulldozed their horns on trees

<<                                                       




                                                                         >>and make more of that  (see above)

if a dinosaur dropped on a forest
would this word make a sound..


        
                  would said dinosaur still be alive today
or certainly no deader than mallarme..

and they would have evolved
ditched their lizard scales
for tresses ~ manly tortured poet tresses
if poetry was their thing ~ manes flowing
maidens sitting astride racing tyrannosauruses pondering buttercups..

a

n

d

the planet too might be in better shape
or then again perhaps not
fewer trees = less carbon dioxide from trees yes
so yeah it is all good
I am saving the planet
that is why the dinosaurs died
all the trees killed them..

~ when there were no poets
and now everywhere there are tortured men with tresses
making space where dead trees once lived
pumping out carbon dioxide
in a sick dinosaur-population reduction scam..

no wonder trees never sport tresses..

 the                                space
was hanging out the wrong side back then..

deforestation must continue
or tree-carbon dioxide will kill us all
the way they wiped out the mythic dinosaurs...

Looking Glass Dunes

Up-lit child bathes velutinous
On the school stage the sweet sparrow sings
And parents grasp the clutching maw machines
Vanishing heads present arms raised to stream
Fleshly branches fluoresce process
Obsidian rectangular masks fracture verisimilitude geometric Picasso
The child blink-blinks for the glass forest asway
The ousted eyes triangulate flashes
Broadcasting mobile Sieg Heils sotto..

The child finishes so softly and awaits alas
Clasped seconds of silence roar a smear
Mobile salutations ceasefire
And mural beef fists in flowering repose applaud
The child slightly bewildered
Smiles a sliden relief..

One hand clapping Mumsnet Buddhas
Tap-tap the smart plastic
An echo of pregnant applause reverses
Someone presses open together hands
Circling dragons dance around the time-broken reserve..

Hands parting hands press together apart in one claps..
And a pregnant pause-cheer whoops a Theremin
A car alarm attunes for a ghost..

Relayed new memories lap double-glaze
The phasing phased in out in
The fled bleed around looking glass dunes
Childhood paused uploaded prefaded
Windows if waves crash mirrors cast..

The Lost Sheep With No Name

i met an organic meat farmer 
he claimed boldly he also owned the world’s first truly organic abattoir
he asked well would you like to see it
i said i’ll pass 
i have some ice i wish to sell to a penguin
must be going..
he smirked don’t tell me you are a fucking veggie..
i pondered okay i won’t
oh very droll he said 
my abattoir is truly organic he insisted
we don’t care for technology
we breed and let them go humanely
totally natural
and all in accordance with nature..

i should have walked away but being the crowned city idiot
and for many a year now..
i have the certificates..
>>

he ushered in the first lucky animal
while earnestly reminding me
and anyway animals don’t feel pain..so..case closed..
an abattoir hand nodded in agreement
ah you a veggie..you a veggie..
before walking off to the pub..

the animal gazed trusting limpid doe-like 
the laser guided pathos stung my eyes
here goes then said the world’s first truly organic abattoir owner
are you ready he asked
i wasn’t sure whether he was addressing me or the animal
he then grabbed the animal round the neck
see thing is we feed them natural food
so they taste lovely not of american chlorine
we give them the minimum of antibiotics and vaccines
and we let them out to run and eat grass
fewer little ones get autism
and animals don’t require a high eye queue anyway..

it was brightly lit outhouse
wispy rays of silver bathed the glass ceiling
but enough of the poetry..

after a few minutes of punching it in the head
it lay on the floor twitching..

where did you learn to do that i asked
oh sometimes while i am in the field
i watch the humans having punch-ups
i’ve been training in the barn
under the light of the moon hitting haystacks
my farmer friend forgot to mention all the steroids he forces upon us too ~
au natural
although i hate to say it the steroids really helped me bulk up
so i am filled with puss as well as muscle
yeah i’m gonna go to detox
before i walk onto another farm
do the same all over again..
by the bye
the ones who know 
call me the lost sheep with no name..
he then got on his equine friend and rode away..

Goldfish To Alien..

around thirty pairs of turquoise eyes as still as gods
gazed below the reeling clouds
and to the left and low 
skimming the thrumming city nightscape
two dazzling orbs floated back and forth
peeling dripping vibrant streams
sliver pulsations of a silvery olive 
luminous ribbons sparkled and drifted 
down-lighting the raven-tress air marveling skipped 
oh and how the milky way star-ships glittered..

i had such a strange feeling too uncanny to explain
so so strange
i cannot even begin to explain..
bedazzled 
through powerful binoculars i witnessed for minutes delightful 
the pouring lights on my left moving back and forth
all while the ones very high above 
a whole battalion of stock-still boomerangs
and certainly professor brian cox 
would have waterfall-pissed his sceptical bbc twin-pillar pants
twas swamp gas i beseech you 
twas swamp gas you fools
they live far too far away..

i waved them hi the ones who do not exist
and after drinking my fill
for more earthly matters alas i had to walk away..
a few hours later i checked in again
the lower ones leftward had vanished to who-knows-where
yet the ones in the heavens were stacked up observing
swimming sliding vertical horizons
sea horse graceful gymnastic gravitics
mulling the earthling planet rented
full of tin can 60s museum-piece spaceships
and space suits made by a bra manufacturer
the oblivious twinkling firefly planes taking off and landing..

and in this universe of creation
we are the only game in town
and in the middle of a stadium of watching trillions 
be a clever goldfish 
lean against the glass all knowing
and peer at your misshapen reflection and out at nothing and no-one..

how lucky i was to witness
faraway sentinels skinny-dip their boundless ether endless sea
i waved again just to be friendly
twas remarkable enchanting awe-inspiring
and yes more than a little eerie..

i wonder 
are the visitors back on their planet recounting to their friends
the funny episode of that strange small faraway dot of a being
from a steel and glass cave seemingly waving up at them..
oh don't be silly
absolutely no way
we were far too far away..

To Red Pill Pill The Fake Myth Myths

No one here gets out alive
Apart from those ~
Culture’s beautiful untamed horses
The twenty-seven club going on eighty
From now to anciently
Hollyweird to Lookout Mountain’s riant eyes
From Tavistock Institute
Blood lines and Five Eyes
From all this to all of that
Mainstream presstitutes
The War On Terror’s ratatat-atat..
I, more than once, accused of not believing in 9/11
Is 9/11 now a diety ~
At free-fall..

Lo, I fell for other myths
Older now, yet frankly
Only the mirages without shadow, I’m self-immunised
All the romanticised, worshipped, afterglow internalised~ not so easy
All our heroes, credos, in all guises, means and ways ~ weaponised..

Controlled opposition
Intelligence children
Psittacine weird scene
No nepenthe for those aroused from sleep
Cyclopean worms ride the deception snake ~ the end
And from some fetid eternal birth-wheel still springs
Such bastard fakes, and in a forever churn
From whom clones are cloned
And in their image, should we seek redemption, only we are burned
We debate within the dark nano-frames presented
Step out the frame ~
It’s okay to be a heretic
Surf the 10-D chessboard, frisbee the rabbit holes, up-ended
Flip the silence..

Embosk glanceable
Betrays them, yet not, they always hold control
I recently attended, and wide-eyed awake
all the wakes I previously lamented ~
I, the eager younger dreamer
Gazed all too glittering seams to earnestly seem ~ gold fever
Question: Will I still weep for the ones I once believed ~
this unstilled part of me
Do red pills turn blue when the red-pilled sing the blues
Oh, goodness above, oh no
Now I believe I know..

In the hills the dead are alive, we cried
And some wept again at the pathos of that
I side-stepped a glance at myself, surprised
As tears splashed the piss-memorials
The orchids, the scent of rust-sprayed thorns
And, as we stood beside ourselves, the fake dead encored more
Wow, how I fell for the news’ lying eyes
So you never died a long time ago..

Well no, we told you we sold the world..
And now we have killed you twice
We desire a few of you to realise 
And we shoot you down again
Band-bang-alive you re-fortify us, unwitting initiate
We shoot you down again
Bang-bang-alive
Heart-broken, strange you seem so vivified
Yes, aren’t we often electrified
When we pull back the veil, confirm the betrayal
So, congratulations,you spook-detective, you spoked our signals, receptive, ha ha
Question: Who you gonna call..

Pulsar

curly sea green eyes lap the face
melted fish-bone eyelash tresses
coral pink elfin ears embrace
mural tousled hair the loomed air electric..

the hamster wheel dots float below
mercury blobs zoom zig-zag flow
everyone dreams a snooze-and-go
papier-mache fist-fight-legs dapple snow..

rivendell rapunzel boots of daffodil
shopping channels flicker concreted life dismay
cardboard pizzas chew saturdays
washing machine sundays thrum dentist drills..

the coffee tastes hackneyed the ice cubes melt all tender
dew on a blade of grass like butter
do archetypes ever get stuck in lifts
are we ridden on an archon spaceship..

i have seen more ufos than i can count on one hand
yet never come into contact with a genuine non-stick frying pan
entry-point noodles taser such technology
non-stick noodles must be raised a priority..

powder blue clouds a firmament of cotton glass
a memory a cash cow a second a distant past
the tenderest smile a lighthouse a pulsar flash
the ocean waves lifted on your open hand..