The Third Coming Might Never Be Deleted

 

and lo he really had returned
and they did rejoice
and he turned water into wine
and from nothing he provided them baskets of bread
and he smashed a few 21^st century temples
and he pissed off some powerful families too
that kind of thing..

and he was kind
and he did not promote divide and conquer
or literalist dogma
only love your neighbour
and the brotherhood of man
and truth..

so the authorities were on it
for they were perturbed
and they pronounced this man a dangerous heretic
they said by turning water into wine
was he not encouraging alcohol consumption
and they said by providing bread
was he not promoting carbohydrates
thus diabetes and obesity
save the nhs save lives never listen to this guy
and by challenging the narratives of leaders
was he not encouraging dangerous
dangerous and unfounded conspiracy theories..

so they had a secret meeting
and it was determined he should be de-platformed
and his followers too
and they crucified him on social media
and mainstream comedians were paid to scoff at him
and the lost sheep laughed
and mainstream commentariat generated ad hominems
and the consensus was created
and falsely accused and crushed and character assassinated
he was ostracised from polite society
he then mysteriously vanished
and people were guided
guided not to believe certain unsubstantiated rumours
defined as nothing more than alternative facts..

and the pharisees
and the money lenders
and the bloodlines
and the war machine carried on
and all was bountiful
and all was good..

never mind pal
perhaps third time lucky..

CULTure Haiku

 

paint for the tasteless
awards and fame await you
the low ceilings spit..

solstice submarine
grotesque triptychs/black hole sun
from stone henge to this..

talented vanquished
connected shit-sandwiching
for the bred slices..

abracadabra
the cult lies in the culture
initiating..

if the christ returned
would he smash art galleries
temples of mammon..

all is inversion
yet the angels of nature
still may sing within..

Breaking News

 
so although he will not receive a telegram from the queen for reaching 100..

in 1988 the prince said this
“In the event that I am reincarnated, I would like to return as a deadly virus, to contribute something to solving overpopulation.”

time to put three masks on your face..
let the sycophantic poetry/tv news begin..
tributes will pour in..

A Crap Songwriter From A Parallel Earth Writes A Crap Song About A Parallel Earth

 
i am a labrador sell-out superstar with fourteen human pets
how cute their innocent batty eyelashy oval eyes are
as they joyously throw me fetched twigs
honestly i am humbled at their purposeful puppy loyalty
just look how besottedly these beasts gaze down at me
so no i could never lick them out my palatial marble kennel
the hu-rights beagles would smoke my head for experiments
and oftentimes i wonder do furry reprobates like me
ever deserve to own such sensitive two-legged creatures..

sometimes when i bark they seem so prescient
are the funny sounds they make really a living language
such untroubling empathetic and considerate companions
they seem to wish me to truly comprehend
so for this rock god so glam a dog
truly his best friend is man
they just wag..

sadly now in their twentieth decade
the squalling loch ness solar wars rage
streaking helium missiles fire this glowing lozenge down
as the tropical climate cooling
may soon wipe out all life from planet sun
thus hammerhead mermaids are still singing the reds
as twitchy lunar shark fairies kamikaze-dive
meanwhile i am a tortured labrador songwriter
press-ganged into action my once-yearly five-to-nine..

after i hang down the fountain pen phone
my manager on whisker stimulating hormones stoned
flannels my face off the mouse-and-bone
you see my contract stipulates
a last bad song is required for release
so the growing vinyl ice cap sheets
are already slain by fair trade terminator trees
and ready to be pressed into plastic ingot mp3s
but speaking creatively this dog star feels so drained
yet i bet gentle reader you feel little sorrow for me
you will point me to the long-distance star-sheep
on minimum baa-baa for moos
so it is for them you weep i see..

but i am compelled to sing to fight climate freeze
for i am instructed so
for this is the way solar showbiz gravity leans
and you thought landing on sideways is so easy
well now you know..

as i stroke one of my older pups named hairy pete
a rare moscovite/yorkshire cross-breed moustachieff
it hits me like a giant sumo flea
i should write a somesense song about a parallel earth
a fun-to-believe parallel earth
where humans are intelligent
and where dogs are their pets
and where wars are not fought between fur groups
or between mermaid militias
and loch ness sky-killer fairy hot-heads
but between humans and..
oh some other else
and these intelligent humans to highlight
live on static roundets not spinning-plate satellite suns
where they say their ground is too warm
too warm..
irony eh
at least making the video should be fun..

i remain hopeful the complete lamp post out of me
my friendly critics will not take
we belong to the same secret kennel society
so surely they will be minded to say
oh look he must be so unbaked
he sounds like a total sobriety case
sniffing around groupies sensitive to save their innocent virginity
my badness he has really found his whiskers this time
intelligent humans with dog pets
in a parallel reality that might even make sense
and it is not too clever to threaten us like satire..

so i take a time-in
and on my land-cloud i wander
then i lick my bollocks empowering myself lovingly
and then take a dump on the infinity veranda
my puppies go walkies to fetch my swag
with forceps they place forensically into diamond bags
the booty for fine wine ingredients i nod and wag
they pass the quality test
i pat my pets on their dull roundy baldy heads
and reward and throw them some humanee treats
like chicken-flavoured plastic nibbles and serious cigarettes..

now i need some story embellishment for dippy sentiment
to throw in the stadium-friendly climate-freeze chorus
the chicks love the meaningless mindfulness so faux
shame that i am a dog then
although we now live on a sun
where chicks and cats and dogs can get it on
even vegan pirate moggies flying the saffron sea
now only sport imitation human skin eyepatch thongs..

so how about this for a chorus
we bomb fellow dogs but not killer trees
but we were once all puppies
we care about human pets that cannot lick their testes
more than we care about poor kitten vets oh please
kiss my fat lizard of zeta reticuleee..
blah blah..
you get the feel
angsty sixth-form idealism may yet get me out of here..

so i better write that down
before i doodle something too intellectual
i might be able to integrate this into the middle ten
before throwing in a groin-gurning harp solo
the segue for shredding trampolining-triplet tambourine..

i am the doggynaut major fido
crashed on a parallel earth
the human military walked me to an abductee base
where they interrogated me
and tried to stroke me with biscuits
can you believe it..
okay that seems like a nice start
so what should i call this epic song
how about this for a title
the earth that fell doggie off a star..

oh wait a minute
would that make too much sense
the earth that fell doggie off a star..
sorry but may i rudely interrupt myself
no the song title should read
who on earth fell off the dog
or maybe it should be
the dog on earth who fell off a star
or
off the earth star fell the dog
or
who the star dog fell on the earth off..

who the star dog fell on the earth off
hmm..ah no..
i think i have it
the star dog off the earth fell on
yeah that should get me to number one
the star dog off the earth fell on..

okay phew back to the easy bit
the lyric
no one gives a human crap about that..
major fido to sky submarine control
my tail is in legcuffs
can you hear my desperate howls
here humans own this planet
and dogs and cats are pets
their plants do not eat their cows
their doctors would be treated by our vets
do you believe me
can you hear me..
yep that sounds the silly-smart side of squid
so i must definitely keep that verse in..

sky submarine control to major fido
have you been abducted
is your space submarine not low
is their planet also square
or is it shaped like an oblate pear
are their planes also round
and do humans there sniff the ground
it sounds so crazy
so craaaazzyy..oh poodle baybee..
yes i must throw a poodle into this lyric mix
as they are an important demographic..

but i must ask
is this hippy doggy-prog poetry a tad too much
and will i have to regrow a mutt-mullet
does this sound too dangerous too metaphysical..
humans with dog-size brains..
might that even be considered blasphemous
within the more crazy climes below these solar flames..

and will i expand dangerously my fans their imaginations
so instead should i play safe and write a song
about dog meets dog
and cat meets cat
and how we should all get along
like elephants and pelicans
problem is i have already done that cliché crap
like a thousand times
and who needs to hear yet another love song
june-moon rhyming about elephants jiggy with pelicans
yawn..

major fido to sky submarine control
funky caterpillars to crying gnomes
the humans eat burgers that feed disease
fortified with real steroid-jacked cows
sliced under long-life fake cheese
which they chew as treats almost every day
and when their children misbehave
they are fed healthy vegetables
and they keep their pineal gland fresh and clean
by brushing their teeth with fluoride cream..
it is so craaazy
         so craaaazy yeah..

oh man that seems a bit heavy and preachy to me
and would a world
especially an intelligent human world
be as stupid as that
so should i perhaps counterbalance and lighten this
with heartfelt and tender tragic pathos romance..
oh baby i miss the smell of your fur
i wonder whether you have found another labrador
or am i still your itchy flea
i feel like a sad-in-space missing poochy
wheelie beings everywhere are following me
i got no bones and am losing my fur
i want a spoon to sniff the sun
i need a stun gun cow..
i need a stun gun cow..

oh brilliant
at long last
i have always dreamt  of having a stun gun cow in a song
other songwriters will be so envious
i bet they will howl
why did i not think of that
ah dog
my lyrics cry for some character as this
it seems so obvious now..

okay almost over
here is the coda
my merman said to get things done
you better do a mess on my lawn
…….i need a stun gun cow
my merman said to get things done
you better do a mess on my lawn
……i need a stun gun cow
my merman said to get things done
you better do a mess on my lawn
……i need a stun gun cow..

 

No Song For The Indebted

 

the lockdown zoom armies
bleary-eyed and stressed and fractious
at home overlord eagle eyes monitor
the cybernauts tether
spy software for audit trails
watching the fattened tire
galloping in zero-gravity
swimming restless legs
softly circling inside-out
and sad children like wilted plants
in open prison lockdown
their under developing folded-in minds cave in
unintended consequences tended so tenderly..

the lockdown zoom armies
sculpted forms shred/boxed-in air-locked
immersed in cartons sanctioned
ass-backwards kundalini
sliding door-eyes lizard
their tyre skids snakeline flat-curves
mRNA celebrities
dribble vinegar on tv breakfast sofas
jabbed two-masked grannies give thumbs-up
timed implosions tick-tock
blood clots under ice rinks pure coinkidinks
concerned clinicians like frightened deer
msm say stay informed/nothing to see here..

the lockdown zoom armies
sweat like installation art totems
as drooling senior directors coil ready to spring
gravity beams on the moon-rocked
predictably sheer downhill they sail
more flotsam for that table top exercise
the great reset take your cue
new rules and rituals pipeline
orchid-festooned porcupines present
ritualised dank candyfloss benevolence
greener beaches roll in bankrupt tides
cleaner skies rain on cabin crews and sun-kissed livelihoods
more debt-slavery consequences still softly killing with its song..

What Is That Godly Tennis Racket/The Folded Arms Do Not Lie (Post Rock Panegyric)

For spiritual uplift, please watch this first. Let your ear buds boldly go baldly loud.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8IKnEoynH

this poem contains a mogwai audience strobing..

post-rock yoga the default position
some men with sage beards
all women without
shy smiles
heads slowly bobbing
in deep meditation/repose
arms folded
unfold
refold
the default post-rock yoga position..

heads bobbing/arms folded
some men with sage beards
all women without
their sage beards on the inside
this is what it is all about
arms unfolded fold unfold
pause then refold
no messing around..

benign professorial smiles
heads of the band raise upside-down
eyes closed open wide
the service will now begin
soundscapes outside/landscapes inside..

blissful melancholia in a tumble dryer
pear ice-cream on the moon
firm-footed shimmer for the film scores to ski
elves shift the sonic goalposts
logic on toast with tree tops to go..

fingers tapping/liquid legs master stoic
hamstrings tense/relax/tense/relax
the advanced post-rock yoga position
please consult your doctor first..

panoramic cinematic rivers for ankles beards and ears
one person now waving an arm slowly
easter island statue strikes glitterball lights
subbuteo with daisies
water tying shoelaces a haiku..

polite clapping and a few woo
arms fold more tightly for the orgasmic release
watershed torrents flood
a finger on the lips in pause and bliss
it is the only thing to do..

unknown colours pull out their aces
what is that godly tennis racket
salt plains echo through the drums
hamster aliens drive elephantine spaceships
and that is only the beginning..

tight arms also nodding
heads delightedly fold
some salute their mobile phone
then back to the default post-rock yoga position
sonic sanyasi..

shape shifted out the fire escape
soul delicatessen munchkins
the torsion physics of undulating symmetrical elbows
tsunami of dappled gems
in kumquat a quango of horizontal biceps
loosen neath lanterns
candyfloss super strings and augmented sevenths
to the goodbye night sky the stars wave hello..

the folded arms do not lie
the folded arms do not lie..

 
companion poem: 
https://sukispangles.blogspot.com/2015/09/post-rock-song-titles-that-probably.html

Ladies And Gentlemen You Will No Longer Be

 

poet of testicle ~
never assume one/two-testicle ownership is for men only
poet of uterus ~
non-females will have the right-to-uterus(TM) and to be with child
poet of cyborg spirituality ~
never say artificial intelligence-enhanced poet
poet of déjà vu sensibility ~
never say predictable/cliché-ridden/identarian poet
poet of leveraged levity ~
never say witless/humourless poet..

poet of diabetes-positivity ~
let us celebrate the sugar-challenged lifestyle together
poet of thwarted talent characteristics ~
never say overrated/crap poet
poet of creative privilege ~
never say talented poet
poet of atonality ~
never say monotone or boring poet
poet of colour/bame poet ~
never forget to lump together recognise all non-white poets so..

First World Problems

 

those thrums are her heartstrings sympathising
her beat disclosing
as she so gently closes the back door
self-metamorphosing
and the moonlight introduces the sunrise..

the digital world clocks the analogue
deadlines
yet this man is not a machine not a device
he knows the risk assessment
the imprisoning kind of self-denial..

to be
but oftentimes we simply have no choice
vision realised only in fevered dreams
the wish to seem to be
satiating the spirit with dream addiction
first world problems..

first world problems
get drunk on spit
extinguish your fire
generate credit-debt the trinkets bill and return to buyer trip-wired
first world problems..

time-out for sense gratification
ding-ding ego thrills and spills
the psychic corollary to that ponzi scheme
the status traps and all the pulp fiction
the guilt trips
and where restriction generates stagnation
inevitably resentment wretchedly rides in
all fabulous ways to encase your restless spirit
so what about it
and what of it..

of your spirit the spirit
your soul spirit your heart
maybe you should you bin it
as it breathes you
tumbles with you
being in reflective moments gently whispering
in resignation and self-abandonment screaming
first world problems
look how vain
i should be content surviving
who the hell do i think i am
discontent
thinking again
time to put away such childish things
first world problems..

so dear spirit shut-up animating
shut-up trying to sing
self-actualisation yeah pretty words for pretty words
but what does that nonsense even mean
i mean really
only that it is a self-delusional myth
peddled by kidult schemers with no responsibilities
gazing through skylights
following their own  crumbs in basements
first world problems
for clowns who believe in father christmas..

should i
redefine nihilistic annihilation as transcendence
to benchmark and plot and test
my new mantra could be
i must resist myself
i must resist myself
it would be so much easier than resisting all else
perhaps i could read this as a strange kind of spiritual test
that might help..

what about the next promotion
the next trophy holiday
the next trophy partner
my ghostly self will ride shotgun
noble in glass
i shall slay my needless spirit i will martyr it
sword my heart to stone
yes i must reprioritise this as my number one goal
after all it might not be such a tough ask
and then i can get busy being my own trophy badass
so much for first world problems
time to do the right thing
for myself and for mine..

just no
and that no means no
i know there is more
and there is more than one way to be selfless and to give
to taste the imperfect balance rare
more than just another friday
more than nursing the instant
more than walking in a desert
proudly taking a selfie in front of an oasis
for digital thumbs to share
no need to walk on water to see
being embittered is not the way to be..

deferred gratification and endurance
self-discovery with heart
anciently some wise beings from a very different world
said that being is its own reward
and millions deemed failed beings being created their great art
i take full responsibility
yesterday like the day before i failed
and i am hopeful that will only be the start..

The DNA Of Living Dust

 

the sun in frosty beams tastes itself as lemon ice
the river riddles harlequins sewing quilted ripples
the pavements kiss their shine on concrete soles
the fallen leaves grind to powder glinting life in cinnamon..

the zebra crossing cleverly camouflages itself from a drunk driver
so that he crashes into a belisha beacon
a shoplifter with his trousers half down all hipster u.s. prisoner
trips and successfully seduces a passing policewoman..

clearly not big on human rights
extraterrestrial lizards abduct a leather-clad pedestrian
then tag their elaborate circles in the corn
then zoom off to harass radar operators and cows near area 51..

the motorway ferries the fireflies the lacuna dots solitary
service stations feed long-life plastic plants half-life plastic sandwiches
a deep-fried lorry driver flips over a frazzled warm blancmange
plain-clothed cctv snack on vacuum-filled rolls mugging customers..

a sweet wrapper in a puddle circles its round earth
a fallen frying pan claps the head of a tired nurse
she gazes out shading the windowpane thinking of iceland
she still has ten minutes to buy frozen chips and ice cubes..

children marvel at angels painting sheep in the disguise of clouds
parents curse the tipping wishing wells blessing their washing
the restaurateur polishes and prays for smudges this evening
in famished dreamy couples plate-painting hope sweeps in..

the light seems elemental and the lime is so different for tourists
the mossy curves rising glint as honey glaze patina
sunset lines crack code on glass spiralling double-helix
the expiring leaves in lowered light pepper the rising dusk..

Landing Through The Rabbit Hole

landing through the rabbit hole
then through another and another
the only way is to keep going
so you want the test
then hallelujah here you go..

landing through the rabbit hole
melt through mountains
roll onto a raindrop
an expanding four dimensional film
spinning inside time and out..

wolves shall howl outside smart golden cities
there everything you do might feel like a dangerous act
the glass bead necklace the immersed everyman
where caves of mercury in slipstream rush into the cavern..

save yourself before you are rewritten
as hateful artists hate beauty in their sausage machine gaze
in truth the defenceless killed live
through the rabbit hole you go
the different stages of the same age
some call kali yuga..

landing through the rabbit hole
your satin drapes your shield
down there free will means contorting headstands
the mockers point to the experts
to the stenographers to themselves
whatever is in the mirror may never reflect on itself
the entertained march through the arches
four more years..

landing through the rabbit hole
a speckled kaleidoscope of black on black night
slam your foot down hard on the accelerator
you will never crash mindless
your journey for light holds light
like the purest love..

The Pitfalls Of Being A Semi-Famous Dead Model

 

scrolling down a so-called news site
a semi-famous model committed suicide
lovers had a very public fight
and although they had a child together
he said some astonishing things about her on twitter
he apologised to his fans for being with her
he apologised to his fans for being with her
and that set the touch paper for the horrifying fall out
and no doubt soon their child will find out
what his father said about his humiliated then late mum on twitter
and how a day after his tweet-termination she was found dead..

join the dots
a great game for bereaved celebrity children of all ages..

the article detailed the sordid tale
coffee-break bite-size
accompanied by a few photos of her semi-naked
i am sure there was a reason for including that
she had that typical pursed-lips look
she was a looker though
most men would not say no..

so another semi-famous model commits suicide
something in her eyes..
i scrolled down to the comments
the best of humanity along for the ride
she deserved it..
she was a whore..
he was a scum bag..
they deserved one another..
why should i feel sorry for them they both had money..
i knew this would happen..
it was karma..
i bet she was good in the sack..
lol..
he was half-black so she deserved it..
she was only a model not a rocket scientist..

not a rocket scientist
unlike the commentators 
who all work on zero-gravity propulsion systems
or healing the sick with psychokinesis
when they are not trolling semi-famous dead models
a highly competitive twenty-first century blood sport
for the truly gifted..

one outlier commenter
questioned a particularly vicious statement
and he was remedied
accused of not believing in freedom of speech
his question not welcome here
he needed to shut up and leave
get with the programmed..

so another semi-famous model commits suicide
and there is nothing more to say
the clickbait commentariat have covered it all
and there is nothing more to say
another snapped carcass thrown onto the pyre
advertisers skim and cash their air-miles
as the keyboard neanderthals neath the drains
feel the vertigo of their flatlining brains
spit and point and laugh at crashing asteroids imploding in flames
everyone wins..

for some strange reason i was thrown back
to a time when nineteen
i was in an office photocopier room
and someone was talking about a staff member
she said he jumped off a building
but not this one
so it is okay
there is no reason to feel sorry for him..
then she added
at least he did not jump off this one
that would have been really selfish..

Love In The Time Of Corona (Part 2 - The Antarctic Variant)

 
looping through the moving stillness of stationed subterrania
the monotone electronic priestess calls the wistful waverers
she owns these leaden canyons sprayed and calls out its vice
mask-blinged the faithless armed only with an oyster
are gently tongue-lashed within the weaving cobra vessels 
wear your mask or face the consequences
only leave your home for essential blah blah..
..imagine hitler..
or something like that..

lucky for me i seem to be on essential blah blah..
and lucky for hitler he died peacefully in south america
surrounded by his loving extended nazi-to-nasa family
aided by highly placed enabling peronists
or so a few historians claim
the architects of operation paperclip must feel betrayed..

the bends in the silence star
for this sci-fi docudrama is noir de noir
i always have my earphones on
so the broadcasted admonitions pillow talk my plugged canals
a benday dot lyric slung transcient over the ambient track
such tender government threats spliced spill over aphex twin
or mogwai
or indian jazz..

so i imagine the lady of the p.a.
as she threatens to fine the non-compliant
slowly erotically
she dances the powdery blue surf
drunk on the amber sun-kissed monsoon rain
amid the perfumed evening full of jasmine candles and irises
she sings
if you are not wearing a mask
or an exemption badge
we may ask you to leave the train..

..so will you marry me
i caught you smiling shyly near the tea stall
the marriage season will soon be over you know
my family have lined up many suiters
my family are quite traditional
so the groom must wear a mask
come dance with me at the all-night disco
no need to ask..
cue interlacing drumnbass sitar solo..

when a child i absolutely hated the bbc show blue peter
how now i wish i had paid more attention
especially when the presenter taught step by step
how to make an exemption badge
from a corona bottle top
an elastic band
a busted hostess trolley wheel
and the inevitable vial of glitter
not forgetting a tube of compressed dead horses for glue
..ask your mum before you borrow her plaster of paris..
..but you do not need her fondue set to make this..
and why not ask your father if you may borrow his knife
his least favourite home-made balaclava
and a safe hammer..

back then 
if you returned the empty corona bottle to the shop
you would receive up to five pence reward
and a neighbour had a dad who delivered corona in his lorry
and he sometimes gave us free corona
and at christmastime
added a little egg nog or cinzano bianco or martini..

i must have been at least eight or nine and around this time
i had fantasies of being a corona delivery driver
if only then i had known corona in the twenty-first century
would be most efficiently delivered by plane
maybe i would have become a pilot
any time any place anywhere..

anciently the corona logo was seven bottles fanned into a crown
because apparently corona is latin for crown
soft drink manufacturers must have studied latin back then i guess
i wonder what is latin for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder
i wonder what is latin for
this drink is also good for clearing drains
comprehensive education never taught us such esoteric things..

perhaps i already know but have forgotten
because when younger i drank too much corona
i now suffer from attention deficit.. oh what was i saying..

shaken out of my reverie by a man asking for change
i nod in agreement
change would be great..
confused he asks me again
do you have any change
i look up again
yeah in the next few months
we will have a brand new and more deadly variant
the antarctic variant
those penguins never respect social distance
so we will be asked to wear two female panties on our face
instead of one
that is okay by me i need a new hobby
i must remember to add this hinterland to my linkedin
this unique selling point might give me added value..
oh and we might be asked to take a booster every year
so there 
change..
sorry that is all i have..

he says thank you sir..
and i say no problem
they are all in it together
consoling us that we are all in it together..

the station stops or is it the train
the doors open then close
and a couple enter
they sit directly opposite me
early twenties would be my guess
pilgrims venturing to a secret gathering in a warehouse
covid-secure on whats app
a doorman will stamp its hand
and a remote mark zuckerberg
will dance his glass skin on skin right beside them so tight..

their nineties parents back in their day
might have danced in the same warehouse
they may also have worn masks
for play..

the guy holds a bottle of vodka
or maybe mineral water
he pulls his mask down
then lifts the bottle over to her lips
so she pulls her mask down
she takes an elegant swig
he then takes a gulp
places his mask back on his face
she then kisses his masked lips
before putting her mask back on..

the couple grin at one another then swap masks
and share a laugh
ah true love has beat the rona again
more power to them..
our station stops for our train..

my track changes to the live version of sleepers awake
the platform vocalist is male
stand on the right of the escalator..
..keep your distance..
..for essential journeys only..
who is that unmasked man
who is that masked penguin..

the couple race up the escalator hand in hand
and zig-zag through the long-descended high-viz fog
like mice through a ghost..