Sheepskin Vortex - Automatic & Proud

1.

The U shaped mat designed to sit snug around the pan
never does. No fault of design, no. I just went there, to
the toilet. The emerald suite. I love Braille. Thinking of
writing a little on ‘food poisoning’ Germs. Diane. Hype.
I got to the part where he’d, Graham Chapman of Python
fame, caught impetigo through a scratch from a wicked
Italian. And the light now fading, it folded – rolled – into
great hither. Amanda – call me.

2.

From her ears hung, dangling turning postcard size
earrings made of crushed Indian gold, pear shaped
emporiums of adventure. Chandeliers, steep in ridges
and views of the micro city. I walked into the lobby
of that casino, on a board it read WHY ARE
BULLETS NOT BROWN & LOVELY?

3.

Someone broke into no.47’s garden last night
They left the see-saw up
That is an emcee’s job

4.

I empty the bowl. I rinse the bowl. I empty the bowl
of soil deposits. Nitrogen. Ash. Phosphorus granules,
music. The soil is what’s left from weeding the front
flower beds. It’s a multi purpose bowl. There’s no ha-
rm in our earth (none). We have a very pretty mix of
flowers running either side of our dribble of red sea
(some folks don’t have a dribble even) This is the edge
of town where all wanting to live lives in cots, raised
shelves, hanging pods, & lives laughing (children climb
on the ledges) Our light? (you ask) how can I describe
it? Well there’s no above (or such), & you would say
glow, we have numerous technologies and they glow,
they throb out of sight. They spill onto us. Spill into our
daily lives. Smother any complaints

5.

Are you a useless confidante? Do you love graft that excites you? Experiencing gabble in your gossip lately? Are there saws? Well, we can sever that subsonic turbulence. We work very closely with the kiss of death. We’ll pimp future terrain. I’ll personally preen them doorways of sighs and blot.

6.

His ears ring continuously. I have been washing
my bum. I am using his towel to dry it. He is not
a wrestler. Take a chocolate from my box, is his
manner now, ‘I don’t care.’ It is from the hospital
(to him) his letter. It is folded exactly stiff (I'm
making stew) There is a carrot-top beneath where
he is sitting. It rolled there. He will never know
Thorpe park - how it’s promoted in the brochure.
It wants him to gloss his gland (the family on the
front have glossed glands), he just can’t raise that
sized canoe. He can’t enter a temperature-governed
paradise with a denim cat-scratch before the lobes.

7.

I want to walk around the world. Why is the
world so big, it is isn’t it? I want to sail a kite
and carry a hamper to a picnic. Walk for 13
minutes and someone say (pendant) ‘why didn’t
you go that way?’, ‘it would have taken only 2’
‘it doesn’t matter’, ‘you can never be late here’
&Go to Dussledorf & skip around our 4 trees
skip skip skip plop

8.

She is dressed as a cocktail (I believe it’s blue sierra) She
is in league TR56FG0 (unrelated), he (dopey) is in
UP98YT6 (formally UP98YTT – see Act.III.(b) 2.1) This
is nothing more than a case of pulling pig-tails, a pre-lance
spat, & for this! (bringing it to the boil with a young Sophie
Lorren too!) The league secretary (67, arthritic, no known
reason) gets me up, that old tinker wants to put some cream
on it. Why didn’t he send Brian. Haven’t I done my time in
crisps & beer? (and who goes hurtling past on the 07.21 to
Gatwick, a KD45TG3, with wet hair, would you believe it)

9.

I blew into the pipe that fed the tug-boat. It was a
fisher-price vessel, & made the sailors (unnamed
version) bob up & down. I blew (a) phlegm into
that pipe and soaked secret deeds. I tried to suck (b)
phlegm out: but phlegm doesn’t go backwards. I ate
a lot of fish fingers. I (c) didn’t have a screwdriver.
(d) It was sold as seen

10.

I'm thinking about turning my coal-cellar
into a sweatshop,
This is my anti-depressant
I'm no virgin

11.

It’s late now, maybe 11.23pm. The two centuries
are asleep upon their goat. They both must rise
early, and fight, fight for opposing sides. And
every night they return, in opposition through
the day, at ease over dinner. And the fires of
the front line are a burning. I am top-less smo-
king a cigarette, without a goat. Seeing myself
in the window. Seeing the dark and light of my
stubble in the glass. I can see where men perish.
I can taste on the air the socks of fortune. What
would it be to die without a middle name I won-
der. That is why they are called and I am not.

12.

The officer thinks of his brother in law
Everyone thinks of their brother in law
He ran like a loony cock wanker

13.

Knickle knackle, pickle pockle
bickle backle. The six sounds of
a round neck. Never broke mine
and never will

14.

A pinned note, to the our side of the front door it reads
(that door is one useless door, it sounds thin all the time)
# if you are going to the big Sainsbury’s get me a bottle of
this, (there is then a floor plan of isles and checkouts and
the main exit marked) follow the arrow, and here > you
will find a red wine with a distinctive orange label, Campo
Viejo Crianza 2002. It looks like orange wood. It has
shoulders. The money is up the stairs on the desk, ignore
me # Om.

15.

I always carry her in my head. I carried a calculator
mind (way) back then. I exchanged theirs into mine.
I still stare.

16.

Breath in here, the level goes up to ‘stupid’
I thought so, move on. Breath in here, the
level goes up to ‘ridiculous’, I thought so,
move on. Breath in here, the level doesn’t
move, I thought so, I move in (big mistake)
Live in here, the needle runs across my feet
every morning, back and forth it goes, 100’s
in line, 100’s breathing into me (single to
employed/married)

17.

I unfold myself up. I have collusion. The crown is nestled
between my legs. I am not hysteric. I undo my hair. I shake
out the whores, hookers and cocaine. I was good – I’ll be
good again. I crave vindaloo. I am off the saucer when a
member of the audience throws a man-hole cover into a pram (it’s do or die) I defecate doing a handstand, ‘see, as
I said, you can’t push it back up your arse.’ I'm through to the next round, though am reprimanded for crude behaviour by an old English teacher red ill with rosacea

18.

Whatever you do you must not copy her little
moans [don’t over-do the tricycle] even if you
can’t think [get a fridge] If she whelps into the
mouth of your cave [see previous drawings for
assistance] order from the other menu. Ecstasy is
two hods, one ladder. So, if she edges more to-
wards the opening of a tight jar you must be the
firm hand closing a little cupboard with a sticky
latch. that way Concorde isn’t privatised & dissent
is pretty much rid of, like TB [western world pls.]

19.

She said you have a beautiful body (I collected the rent
the old-fashioned way) Running her hand over my hip
flask, along my stomach and across my chest, through
my left-brain, my copy of Vogue (the only) out towards
an electricity, into the night sky, beyond planets and
gatherings. Past evil. Past doorbell. Past messy hydrogen
Into that super loud revving solid nuisance of clean gourd
- the Sheepskin Vortex

20.

Are you saying? Celebrities figures are pumped
full of wax bullets fired from guns by students
gaining experience and we’re merely insignificant
in that sand is sand but there’s only one bit called
Brighton?

21.

He put out his cigarette. The ashtray drizzled in the veneer
of a pouting quim. No one here wants sunburn. Strict black
& white moodiness throughout. Go get a coach

22.

I was young once. I had a small anchor on my pyjamas.
I am in charge of your fire. Your life is in danger - which
way should I send flames? (I beckon) hurry, which way!
man ! which way. (a motorised-home leaves for the
Hebrides) Make up your mind, say anything, show us with
your hand – signal which is it? Solitude? (probably)
perversity? (generally) Good at school? Hopeless at the
table? Just put one foot in front of the other. Give me clues
This ball of burning hot ash will dig in and dig in and
spread and we’ll both be sucked down. Answer your
prayers? Did you never dream yet? Why can’t you decide?
Come on! Young boys MUST all have a little fire

23.

I want her out of me. I want her out of my smoke
breaks, rid of her. I’ve put her up for auction. I’ve got
a signed face. This idler is annoyed. I have a memory
and I am not busy on this earth. She is slowly vacuum-
ing up my tea. She is intruding on the idler. The idler
cannot be agitated and wistful. This just does not stand!
All I can do to usher I will do. As I step quietening all
around me/exasperated/garrotted/ I say the word FREE
and FREE as if ordering a lung

24.

O what is must be to have a spectacular wife. A dutiful
loving – I got your favourite pickle wife. To hear over a
conversation at a barbeque, He’s so lovely your husband
(ME), He’s so nice, He’s so good with kids! O the joy of
the Spanish Riviera with the wife. The wife and the towel
for two she has ironed and rolled. Did you forget the towel
you ask? (Of course she didn’t, it’s there with sun-cream
and the revolver) No dear I have the towel, and I got you
the book you wanted. I’ve underlined all the chapters. O
that wife is out there. That wife has not a hem unstitched,
or a tear unnamed. SHE loves your friends and buys them
slippers. What MY god am I doing without one? Why MY
god are my secrets without excuse? Why my Leader is
there an untidy ashtray full of crooked toe nail clippings?

25.

It’s between me and Jude Law who goes bald
first. My picture could go where his goes, &
his picture could go where mine goes, & my
picture his, and visa versa & on and on, and
together we can slow down baldness by half
or a third. The affront of the rich oik.

26.

I am out of place in a department store. I let the traffic
in. I break the escalators with my geek love. I is where
they make tight underpants and tighter underpants
(choice) and the rings on the dressing room curtains rattle
& rattle and scratch. INTRUDER INTRUDER. appears
(so) one tall looming moustached man ‘Have you got any
tight underpants in yellow?’, ‘I’ve got an abortion at the
weekend’, ‘sorry sir, we only sell white’ (chorus line
colour) ‘are they tight?’, ‘extremely sir. quite fucking so’
‘well yes’, and I snatch my bag and run and run & run,
with a bobbing head

27.

Can we have sex like otters? And then skin ourselves
and sell our story. Then save enough money for decent
furs and kinky boots & have sex in furs in mansions
on high. Then drop them furs into Ebay, as we’re picking
up our suits of Cadillac, auctioning off our smells and
juices for thousands of dollars $£$£$£$£$ and pounds.
‘What next says one journalist? the moon?’.
‘Maybe,’ I say walking up the steps, putting the key in
the door, trying not wake the milking wife.

28.

Inter-species sex is coming.
Open your arsehole & let in the zoo.
Cloning is for sell-outs. Noah meets
Marble Arch meets menus

29.

I was a slab of love. It was a buttercup-topping. I
walked club footed in circles. I was doing quite the
opposite of The Smiths.

The knee jerks and the balancing on one foot, dropping
her down the back of my shorts & feeling her tickle me
until she appeared on the laces of my right shoe.

Put me as a sound-bite. Run me parallel with that era.
I’m telling you they ripped from me
a cynicism I never were.

30.

Eaten by the fuzz, curled into a Nip-on, my on-off
relationship with the Isle of Wight

31.

How many kisses on the cheek from girls
did I get for just talking? Maybe 12 or 19
over 4 years, various subjects different
times. And how does that feel? Like hiccups
in old movies, where all the men’s hands
are stuck to the hats

32.

Skaters commandeer the underpass. The freight got
to keep moving. And a small girl with a squirrel
on her bib turns grey. I grab the thunder of wheels
I make them say ‘enema’. I make them say it like
they mean it. I make them unfold it till our cheeks
return roads

33.

So what else do you wear of your mothers? Her
shoes – I see. ( & she nearly fell over then, angling
for a law suit?) Her hand bag (too) – red? What
kind of mother is she? Slut red that is. (&) you
say she has way too much stuff?! I want to meet
this mother. I want to see you in her! I have the
impression she’s orange, skin orange. Could I use
the mother of all pimps, Google?

34.

I had sex with the tall model. I was playing-card on tarot-
card. I focused. I wore the yellow safety visor. I spanned
a Deliverance river. I got pins & needles continual in the
poor estate. There isn’t an extremity without picket-line.
There are Olympic bids circling on the crows widdle

35.

Well it depends what you steam your carrots (or green
beans) in, if you use plastic, it’s going to taste (slightly)
of plastic, and if you use metal then metal (not really)
but if you use a few seconds from a Bond Movie, you’ve
got your Chinese gangster, silk socks, and Liechtenstein to
explain, capeesh?

36.

1. Barwoman, captain of female race, fabulous lower
back. Why the power cut, why you sad, why you put
Mexico in the bin?

2. ‘I want to get her something like an airport. Or a reason.
Something without a lease’

37.

I was warned of the flasher. The common grazed
cows. The Toby-jug frightened me. The Hoover-
pipe was misused. I’m waiting for the ambulance
My girlfriend has him in the emergency position
His bell-end is being rescued by ants. I have tints.

38.

I kissed my mother on the stone cold forehead. I kissed her
out of politeness. I never expected a copper coin. I kissed her
again, and again. I was so happy - more copper coins. I went
to the other rooms in the mortuary, kissed all there stone cold
foreheads, kissed them several times each, over & over. I
snuck out as the bell on the door rung. I snuck out with a
kids-coffin full of coins, avoided the tramp with one eye at
the bell tower & run to the marsh to count my urchin wealth

39.

I broke a ghost by dropping it on its back. I had
one arm under the legs, one around the neck. I
straddled us both to the shore and dropped you
upon the rocks, (that’s) one sown – I went back
for the rest

40.

Why haven’t I got anything that lights up, that flashes,
that goes boing. Everything I got is paper and wood &
old. Where are my toys, and my Opal Fruits ™. Where
are my things that go with being high? A mad man needs
a junkyard, or at least a generator and a big drill. Where’s
my nearest well? Where’s the local airfield? This is useless
being mad before I’ve yet to move in (properly)

41.

She weren’t happy (comically annoyed – which
doesn’t direct me away from the traffic, anyway)
unless I was settled, ok, but I can’t be settled babe
I was born with teeth (3 small, white, never since
any!) and I travel. The difference is class, and there
was talk of marriage: (being) who should go to the
doctors and seek medication, me for anti’s or her
for hormones. (to add, I think she meant see me
when you’re rested) But the same can be said of her
(and was) ‘you can’t hold a mans whiteness against
him’. Very unforgiving type. She was fucking nuts.
I’ve always said, better to have and to hold (you brush
your hair, you don’t brush each hair, one at a time) I
just don’t want the intrusion, and you find yourself
begging her to keep up. (guaranteed attention that)

42.

I rung up Vogue.
Can I ask a personal question
How big is your abyss.?
I don’t have its last name, no, sorry

43.

I don’t like to be forced
hands out beside my head, palms down – barked-at
told, forced against the board, arrested - told off by
Delilah, spat at. Delilah is a nurse for real. She cracks
the whip & knocks over things. That only makes her
more determined. She kicks aside my papers against
my protests. I had a list there that is irreplaceable.
She part apologises then realises, this is out of role.
‘vermin’, she orders. ‘I am not the Kaiser’ (I get it
wrong: I am) ‘I am the Kaiser,’ and what follows
upsets me, she pulls - or attempts to - her PVC pants
aside, bearing her squished lips, and frog-marches
her cottage to the post-office for a stamp.

44.

I couldn’t stand this ravioli love affair. One would
only eat ravioli & the other would only eat ravioli.

45.

This is his log. There is a turntable. This is where he will
meet a lawyer one day (big business). The Somalian has
a chequered cape, a trimmed timepiece above his lip, a
slimy sachet below his nose. This is where he tests his
suction (it’s appalling to see) This is the elevator we are
taken to be cured of the elevator (apparently) There is a
lot of naivety in here, it’s that kind of coupe. His broom
is a turkey baster for the crevice. He sweeps it all up
inverted to the normal bubble flow

46.

He’d travelled near on a thousand miles
by road and rail and partially got held up
with a gang in white banging a tambourine,
never did he think to check out the crumpled
leaflet he’d been handed by a gang of men
in white banging a tambourine a town back

47.

The rain was dripping in always dripping in. I lived
in an EVIAN mountain. I only knew the French for
bakers. I didn’t get a dressing-gown. I was naïve
thinking the BBC would cling to one end as we
stretched the budget past recognition. There was no
almond tree.

48.

Is that the bakery?
YES
Well I’ve found two small fingers in my doughnut
REALLY – I had them up my arse earlier.
That’s disgusting
No. that’s BAKING
AND A BIG BUN CAME DOWN THE PHONE
& SQUIRTED CREAM

49.

I popped you in the post a maisonette, a battlement by
the sea. I have the mason by the ankle, he has our plans.
The view is ‘hypo-critical’. The view is frightening when
it’s cold. I keep sane by drawing beach flowers. I guard the
gas supply. I have a system for counting the ocean. It’s not
in figures. It’s thinking: how will I get all them instruments
in that large blue box.

50.

He was Irish def Leppard. He drank the red lion. He wore
the divide in his spandex. He got caught examining his
scrotum in the rainbow of a diesel puddle. They bit off
his ear and poured him into the mix. There’s good ham
in that bridge

51.

Looking for lumps on my testes I found an ab. It was
a simple ab. It was covered in fat & weeping. It wanted
more. It was bored. It wanted to plough fields and mow
lawns, shop on undulating ground in heels. It wanted to
peep through keyholes. It wanted to look at underwear
on washing lines. It wanted to know why woman use
pencils to measure there bums. I didn’t know they did?
Yes they do it said, and told his mates to make me do a
pop-off

52.

Live by the sword, die by the sword
I live close to the common, dun dun
DARRRNNN…

53.

I don’t like
our dentistry. I have built another England.
I have used the jobless and the insane. I have
them head to toe across a well known bay.
There is a brochure. There is paper & sugar.
Dentistry plumbing and showers I hate too.
It’s not free. It pays families compensation.
I need to fit an exhaust

54.

I'm Fagans spawn. I get inside your head. I
see your files inside rockets. I doubt the
technician. I delve into French cabinets. I
break the guard a deal. I climb out into dawn.
I am cosmic Chav

55.

You stare at me and rile me, scare me and persist
upon scaring me. You won’t budge. You don’t fret
you grind me like the peppercorns in the pot. You
are the finger marks on the wedding cake, the bride
that run off. Pete with a little dent in the e.

56.

This mind wrestle could undo
stone. ‘Hungover with the tudors’, my fault. I swallow
Ginormous dirty atoms. I tap loudly on the manikin
infestation. I cry at half-almonds on top of cakes. I’ve
lost my time-machine. I'm fucking sure I left it pregnant
at the well

57.

My Jonny ascended up to heaven on a cloud, and here is a
picture of him (on top of TV) It was so. A small doormat
sized cloud, & a boy on it holding a flute. She went to the
kitchen to make tea, so I (sneakily) opened up that frame.
HA!! CHEAT!! BASTARD!! I unfolded the picture. HA
HA!! and either side of Jonny were policemen with guns
and a warrant for a dirty bugger, written in ink

58.

The show has been cancelled. The circumstances
are bionic. I see them hanging off a star. They are
pink panties hanging of a star. They shrug when
you point.

59.

I am ready for a decoy. I am set now for an
escape into true old age. Everything decent
has climbed out the test tube. This realm is
extremely long in replying. Marriage is blank.
Pictures on calendars of gob

60.

I want NY for a fruit bowl. I want NY to hang
itself outside my window. I want an empty table
where it matters most.

61.

There is the beginning of an address on the
reverse. It is incomplete. I never sent it. I
was bold and you ran away. It had to stop.
I have a sparrow and a bit of window. I
shudder, they (fly) go in opposite directions
I didn’t even have time to fire the pistol

62.

It is the same button
that the police have
on their walkie-talkies
that I carry in my
elbows. Head down
nose to the world, I
keep the pylons and
the trees & the houses,
ON

63.

I couldn’t motivate my cannons. I couldn’t
get her to play nice. I didn’t have the foot to
sweep out the wedge, & all my miracles are
in the post. Be a back-drop, or be a number.
Be a darling and pop next door & get my
solicitor. He may try and touch you up, so
don’t say he tried to touch you up when you
return.

64.

It was up to the poet to detach his sickle from his
elbow and clear forget the wheat field that grows
on the back of his neck. If he was going to stand
in large crowded rooms listening to large crowded
rooms he would need to tuck his farm deep down
in his pants, below his belt. There was once. o there
was once, but I’m not going to tell you about that…

65.

For book ends I use cinema,
George Clooney & whoever he’s fucking at the time

66.

I bring you a bird in a cage for luck. It’s identical
to the Marvin. It does tremolo, I tell the jokes. I
roll mine & tell the bird I will teach him one time.

‘She does like you.’ He’s not so sure. She’s off
snorting powder, & I'm getting the ‘evil daggers’-
Have, I set up one of gods creatures for an anorexic

death? I wouldn’t trust her with a peanut. I hand her a
peanut, she throws it at my forehead, the bird drops
a big white guitar.

67.

The split in the brain isn’t easy to reconcile
The split in the brain is beige then
The axe from Paris is a crab apple

68.

©
crash pad

69.

I got a real proper set of throwing knives for my
Birthday. I woke up to find my UK tour ripe.

70.

I know now my neuroticism will not now kill me
Its cracked horned globule of trigger went bing pop
I have room now for a coffee table. It was a local derby

71.

I was the 7th thousand baby to be born at the new
hospital. Not including abortions or miscarriages.
Including spillage I was the 11th thousand baby
to be born. At the end of my cot was a rosette, a red
rosette, then it wasn’t, that was replaced with a gold
rosette. Even at a young age I saw the shift patterns
of nurses

72.

I got a nymph
I got an oche
I sell front-rooms for brittle-bones

73.

this wedding ring
was my great
great
great
great
(stolen from someone)
great
great
(a juncture of bigamy and infamy)
great
grandmas
grandmas ring
and I put it on thy finger
of your great great
great
great great

great
(Australia)
great
(traced with a tree)

grandmas
finger.

74.

I took tea (in a teapot) in empty afternoon cafes. It was
pure fluke. I'm useless at leisure. Next, I rode the QE2 to
Barbados. I thought I was hunting asbestos. It showed
when I left the cabin boy a tip of neuralgia (fall in shit
me, come up smelling of roses)

75.

The tail on this beast is four times the size
of its body (huge/wide/truncated/sausage)
It digs furrows. It deflects vehicles. It is
always, it seems, hanging over the edge
of the earth, as the earth is round, and the
beast is gigantic. Real-ale have approached
me for rights. Real-ale wants it for a badge.
It’s the average pet we walk in our thoughts
late at night I say

76.

I would like to lock the GP in the cabinet, eat her
rose, then sit down, brush my hair, have a free
aspirin and shout next, sorry I mean, yes, come in
‘really’
‘ermm’
‘yes’
‘quite’
‘if you could bend over’
‘and hold this’
‘but this is a corner flag’
‘correct’
‘we have no soil’

77.

I bought a hot-dog. I went blind, and because I
had diarrhoea too, I blamed it on the architecture
‘what do you open-prison? erm’

78.

Kids learn colours through ‘white supremacists’. The
hue of hate. The pantones of pigment.

Who does this meat-head prefer elsewhere or even dead?
Bernard is making monkey lips, and we know that
monkeys are negros, their woman shake their vaginal lips
like baboons - therefore Bernard is black.

Each book comes with a real Bernard & a yard of rope?
It is hours of bath time fun.

79.

There was a woman, stumbling to herself, that’s right,
stumbling to herself, walking to herself, & talking to
herself, and rocking to herself & she sat there stumbling,
wobbling & muttering. The bush people of the Kalahari
left London thinking we’re all like this. They drew big
idiots in the sand. They bought their mates over. They
said this is the force behind the west and smashed a goat

80.

Got to find me a small peg sized ethos. I’ve got to hold it
and squeeze it and keep at bay the toots of barking laundry
floating on ones Julian

81.

Who killed the highwayman? The tea urn.
The tea urn.! That rusty piece of shit
(why I should have known)
At that half our fan-base went to oil.
O Eric Morecambe
What were you doing in my cheddar?

82.

But we’re too far away to notice. We’re too blanket fed
in the stars. What happens ‘up there’ melts by time it
arrives here: ‘throwing ice-creams off the moon’…
Come the question of foetal termination (dot - dash)
astrology slips out the door. To demonstrate I take an
electric whisk in each hand and stick-up the blazing sun
(cowboy style) This does not please her nautical father
None

83.

2 adults please, & the bat
that swoops trying to steal
your fringe, what can I do?
I’ll be busy wiping off the
gasoline & kicking out at
wannabe matches, near the
aisle please.

84.

How it pans out, my gun, that was turned back
on me belonged to Sir Lawrence Olivier whose
biggest achievement was mixing two types of
faints and giving the world the shredded perm.

85.

Mormon kids aint nothing to play on but beards and
torches. There’s hardly any movement in the soup either
Out the square window is a lot of squares. It’s a hardwood
episode of the smurfs. I think I’ll carry my bike if I see
a man carrying a sick horse

86.

Got a brand new gleaming red bike, light and speedy,
quick and whippy. brakes work, chain works, mountains
work, landscapes even (a touch green). Got a brand new
bike, a big slice of woodland (we ride, me left, that right)

87.

It’s room 129 (not hotel) not 129 the road, the rooms 129,
office 129, whoever took that call hung himself. I took
that call. I won’t dabble in the furs plight. She stays at the
Waldorf. Don’t know her own room number -the man just
gives me the key. Well, her little pooch was agitated,
sneezing out of season, coated in red leather. It had through
its ear a baby chisel. The bag was Gregory Peck.

88.

When I look in to your stubble, I
see where the marks are biggest
and deep, and you are not so pretty
at all. Up close you are terrific, up
closer you are demonic. Because
hanging off your face is buckets of
ice, on a tree (small brown dark)
that is your head, a dead tree

89.

The black raven is only ever in and out
& we see them off, edgy about the apocalypse
Waving our blankets from our cots
Planning our airport runs

90.

Harolds = sexual moves plus enjoyment and
smiles. After Harolds her hair was top of pine-
apple. Harolds and night sleeping made her
hair go Gazzoooommm. I can’t say I saw the
Harolds at work but when I woke I was with
another woman. It was the Harolds she said
flattening the Gazzzoooms. Leave em I said,
leave em -No don’t - but she did. She bashed
the Harolds down, and I became withdrawn
(withdrawn = pretty much)

91.

I am a private dick. And you hold the mantelpiece trying to take it all in. I would like to say this is a rare case - swiping at a little dust - but it’s not. The head rabbi doesn’t want to hear it! Here’s your cheque he waves. I bite into it, and say sorry I can’t take this, it’s my aunts leg.

92.

there is a pair of great bouncing bollocks
they are bouncing
they are bouncing, searching
they are bouncing on the body shop
they are jumping on the body shop
they want to come in
‘let in the bouncing bollocks’, says the crowd
let them bouncing bollocks be an active ingredient
we want bollocks, give the bollocks a chance

93.

I see kids with swords. I see kids with
shields and daggers and guns, but what
about whips? What’s wrong with whips
& malice? A little whip and a little malice.
I want to hear, get back get back, the maps
mine, get back, I am the king of the queers
OooooOoooooOooooooo

94.

Be what you like in the fridge, empty the washing-
machine of blood? & let the others know, the ghouls
are here from Yarmouth

95.

It was you that came and went. It was you, the elasticised
golf ball, slapped out of the tee, over the water, into my
menu. And yes I was having a lovely cruise of the lakes,
and you came gleaning past the menu, & that waiter was
quick -Jujitsu I think, and grabbed you (proud he is) and
just as I was getting to your oily bits, snap, you pinged
back. Getting smaller and smaller, and the shadow never
left the plate

96.

I will go tomorrow - it’s a bonding exercise - with
a bag of gold coins and corporate address your
wobbly eye with my nervous twitch.

I will steer your wobbly eye. I will take you through
the streets. I will drag you to the stile, to the stile by the
brook. There will be brooks but no lakes.

& up and over we climb whilst sellotaping a
phone-box shut and spelling out ambition

97.

I want an easier resurrection
(get out of here, go on) I’ll wait for the next one

98.

Whether he lies on his back, or front, does not
affect sales or rumours. He is Nepalese & drinks
Tramps. Tramps is a shortened version of the
local brew in his language turned into English.
Then the Garage band scene (came along) stole
his uniform and ironed on patches. Arron is na-
ked and has no lice in his hairs and all he fears
is a big lamp shinning upon his whats-it and re-
vealing his busy office. All is udder & common-
place

99.

I sometimes sneak up on young ladies in fashion clothes
shops, loom on their shoulder, wait. X-security I say, and
snatch the hair-band out of their hand, and they snatch it
back. Still got it I say, aint I, - security, you tell them. It’s
then I pull out a firecracker from this here pocket, ‘fancy
coming down the abandoned lane?’ X-Para (see) (night
vision) I could show you how to land on your spine in a
hurricane. Build a damn in a small polio ridden village.
X-para I say, who did extra curricular courses

100.

careers advisor sees frog-spawn in pond
# ejaculates in straight line with no talking

101.

(The final few lines from a conversation with a female
tattoo artist, suggesting she should ask her place of
work for free tattoos) Yes, you should have your twat
continually over and over done. (A dragons paw. Then a
jubilee. Then broccoli) Changing your twat-mind over &
over. Modify your twat until the twat lost its rainbow
name. Till it’s burnt cork

102.

There’s a hand crushing my skull. A deafening twist
of occasion. A manic applause from the Laughter. And
who’s laughing? Tommy. And who is Tommy? He’s a
train driver, a liar and a kidnapper (plus) and Horace
but Horace is quieter. He’s a grinner. So what about
it boys I say, trying to turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. The
grip tightens Are you holding my head I say? So you
can shave off my face? They were laughing. They kept
laughing. It was where two roads met and I was just one
of them.

103.

A young girl shakes a young
sapling tree. She is looking for
the devil.

104.

Your words have meaning she says, you have to be
aware of that. You have to know what you say freaks
people out, you come across as rude. Well I got up
and put a feather in my hat, and pranced around the
room. What you doing she said. ‘no words baby, see
no words’, ‘because it snapped, because it snapped’
‘What the fuck you going on about? Grabbing the vase
‘This aint snapped’ But all the words in the world have
snapped and are now just broken fruit on the orchard
floor, because you will it, because today you have
made it as a missionary. Waving a large chain, through
the trees, and the boys won’t come down from their
houses. ‘woo woo woo woo woo woo, because you
will it baby!’

105.

if this is my bubble O


then this is Me putting it up FOR SALE ‘Q .

106.

Someone left the iron on, and not only did they leave
the iron on, they coloured in a panther and went over
the edges. I just went downstairs to take out my laundry
and make a cup of tea, and yes, whoever borrowed my
bike hasn’t put the seat back, and has left the iron on
and coloured in a panther, but went over the edge. Did I
mention the left trainer, I found in the grass? too. It’s not
mine, I know whose it is but I won’t name names. So. I
hang up my laundry splitting garments into piles and I
see this light on, its an iron puffing away. Christ I say,
not only do we have the trainer, the panther, the bike, the
shower that don’t work, we have halitosis of the spirit
we’ll all be borrowed rags at a paupers wedding, a paupers
wedding, I sigh, a paupers wedding

107.

the coolest point on earth o
the hottest point on earth O

and this place just doesn’t X
give a fuck about that kind of thing


108.

What contaminated my fiction was the poison of
misconduct. There was stops and starts in my frivolity
There was a ghostly burden. There was necks of turds
and the bodies of pressing engagements. There was
therefore a crossroads. There was an apology I could
more easily make.

What ruined my fiction was psychic gout, behavioural
induced, behavioural relieved. An exemption not
coming, a conundrum unfitting. I’m ready for the post,
I say (half heartedly) calling through brush, calling
through comb. Speaking round the civil servant in
my mouth

109.

Gujarat is no name for a horse, when
you’re trying to work out how to
get rid of an old suitcase. Just, how
do you AC/DC?

110.

As the sun rise, it forced the negative onto the bedroom
wall, the grease on the pane was lacklustre. You looked
at the Bentley on the wall and knew it never had.

111.

When all my patients ask me (seldom paths cross) I tell them I’m pretty sad but I’m baring up, and thanks, and goodbye, and watch the step! (ingrained see). I go to the bank to bank the cheques (he doesn’t now). I buy a pomegranate
I stop of at a bar for a Guinness where a black man asks me, ‘would I like to hear my future?’ (some African thing)
I’m retired now (see I said that) Am building my own house. There are trees and bushes in the square and flowers in the beds. The picture on the desk is no longer (it’s in the medicine cabinet) & the woman I fell in love with is finally
property of the state (alas)

112.

I was at the crossroads, which on
looking round was too grandiose
so I went to the valley, which was
too quiet and huge, so I went to he
train station which was fine but there
were no trains today, so I went to
the brook and watched the small
fishes. The small fishes went and
so did I, up the hill., to gaze at the
stars which were a soupy mush by
time I got there

113.

Who bashes heads against walls in the world of
noses? Who leads with their head? in the world
of snozzers. Who orders Chinese food with their
head? in the world of hooters. Who puts too much
left-hand side on the red over the pocket and misses
because they’ve used their head and not their
gazonka? Who wants a head on a pole, when a
bib-twang says it all.?

114.

The Bukowskian curve is a flattened average rainbow
spilling its druids over the landscape, searing the strings
of puppets, knocking out the lights. They get up and walk
some they don’t get up. They spar with the mouths and
makers, they fight between themselves. They have the
hands to. The tiny hands too.

115.

A new craze sweeping Japan is called
GENOCIDE. It’s furry, and it’s cute &
it obeys the international law of tartan
pop socks

116.

“an apricot would make a lovely purse”
“have you got a stone?”
“yes. I think so. hang on. o yes. here it is”
“thanks”

117.

Don’t buy statues
if you live in a
bed-sit. They
turn into presidents.
They see ash-trays
as tap-dancers
They dislike a helmet
of whelk

118.

I have been long waiting
for the time, to
walk up
to
Graham Buchan, whip off
his moustache
&
DECLARE
this fig is rotten

119.

They poured hot oil down the little mans chimney
but the little man was waiting. He had rigged up a
pipe or several pipes, the idea (from where I was
sitting) was to put it straight back to them like a
flying ACE. But this stupid little skinny man didn’t
realise that the pressure required to put it back to the
robbers was insufficient. So nothing came back to
them like a fucking demon ACE. If anything the
system of his cooled that oil a few degrees, but
nothing else, other than splatter on his drying nappies
there was no fucking flying ACE

120.

The hallways are full of young beautiful woman.
The pockets are full of erections. Doors that should
be pushed are pulled. And underpants are full of
erections. Knee length leather boots, thick belts,
That’s the look this year. I've seen that look
in magazines. None of the men in mansions
have erections in their pockets though,
Or reach into their pants to undo the knots.
A cigarette and a mobile phone, a coffee with
a napkin, she’s so pleased to see her back
This year they air kiss, and a young man with an
erection squeezes up on the bench, digs deeper
into a book that means absolutely nothing

121.

Don’t you dare move that glass
it has the scent of her perfume.
(under close inspection)
Just as I thought!
What is it sir?
There’s a selfish cunt in Neasden

122.

I went to the end of year prom with seaweed in my
jacket pocket, and mercury in my hair. I’d been to the
bottom of the ocean -it was a wild night. They run their
glasses in me for fancy cocktails, they bummed me
for sound of shells in their ears. I wished ‘no’ and wept
(leaving with a) a salty lisp [ o. I was a oil rig with two
physical legs, but two legs more in the 9th element.
that was the hang over]

123.

Your own weight clenched
you in. Your own spoilt self
could be your victory. I w-
ould say sir it is the differ-
ence between being served
an egg and being served a
plate with an egg upon it

124.

little lake
big lake

little lake
big lake

then two little lakes
and two big lakes

then a sign:

‘NO GULPING’

125.

When you lose weight, first to come out is the chips.
You leave a greasy trail starved drooling in Asda.
Next is pastry, this makes elbows ache, and head dizzy
It’s a ‘decorator on the atkins diet’ mode.
The beer and wine happens all of a sudden, you wake
severely un-drunk in a crowded carriage of severe
alcoholics & the train doesn’t stop till Cardiff.
Note. buffet food will never leave, it is the eyebrows
on the colon.

126.

He had
separate moist tenners.

It was the
worst Mickey Mouse anyone
had ever seen

127.

Trial & error, yes it is - see race relations - someone must
have tried eating ivory, mating lead, first out like, taking
a spoon and smearing molten eye balls on a herpes scab
It’s not so weird - the resurrection was the first garden-
Centre. Limb reattachment, penile extensions are retro
There’s been so much cleverness but so much wrongness,
as they remind us at special school ‘you’re not different
you’re in special school’

128.

Tour guides & people that teach English as a foreign
language won’t rest until everything is a pop-up book

129.

There was a bottle of wine on the fireplace, I borrowed it
I replaced it, he borrowed it, he replaced it, the guy that
owned it, he never drunk it, and the saga went on. I
borrowed it, I replaced it, the bottle changed as that brand
didn’t sell at our shop. Then he borrowed it and forgot to
replace it, ‘and that was ok’ ‘since he owed him for
something else’, so there was no more bottle to borrow

130.

Look I have the parcel, and I pass it to him. Now stupid
listen, you take the parcel and pass it to me, the parcel
take the parcel and pass it to him. look. Watch me. See?
got it. Why don’t you pick up the parcel? What are you
laughing for? Christ, just pick up the parcel, and pass it
to him. That’s it, pick it up, what are you doing? Don’t
rub it, pass it to him (grabs his hands and arms) swing
your body, and give it to him. Now you take the parcel
don’t look at me, you take the parcel, HOLD it. Don’t
undo the ribbon. Ok put it down, let go. LET GO OF
THE PARCEL. LET GO OF THE PARCEL! right,
stand up, UP. We’ll try this standing

131.

My life is one long PINK. On a rainbow
that just won’t stay how I fuckin put it

132.

Has no successor or captain, no denomination or grade
It is the bright parrot without a birthday or name and
the look of inquisitiveness. Under its own weight it
squeaks (what do it hear?) and flies off, legs flapping
very fast but only very minutely but if you look closely
they do move, 100’s per second, up and out of the
workshop, into the chat-show air

133.

I’m a ridiculous pointy tent with pine needles in my
britches and I’m never taken down and I’m never used.
And why was I put there? And why am I waxy & green?
And so when you came to inquire when you came to see
How I would photograph you were taken by this mini
circus the vacancy of this story the space inside the
kingdom for that very fathered articulate mind, you
begin to grow within me

134.

The security is all Watts and Ohms
All they say is ‘nicholas nickleby’
They are scum

135.

cricket on the radio
would be better played
in bands of sound, an
alphabet of morse, a
long one note bugle
for the run up, a door
slamming in an empty
warehouse for the bat
or not bat, a note bended
on the guitar (much
sustain) for the fielding
HHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOONKKKKKK
EEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKK
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHH
etc
for 9 hours/

136.

They say my wedge is unhealthy. My wedge make you
fat and hungover. My wedge makes you narky. My wedge
is cruel and won’t live forever. My wedge was once a union
jack

137.

I dropped the pork loin. I picked it off the floor. I
went to dinner with a plantation. I burnt the niggers
& the crops that day.

138.

How do you wake a fella, flat out on his back
trousers open, fly’s apart, snoring, stinking
hands flat and down there, and shirt stiffened
just press, CONTROL + ALT + F4 + P + ~ + £ + Y

139.

Asthma is a master camouflage, a netting and a
barn painted. Storing all the massive explosives
Hiding all the lost and gone summers. Drummers
marching inside the skirting-board contract

140.

On that bend Blackness hung. It was a Wiley old vulture
a neatly stacked hand of coins running through the ever-
waiting fingers. On that bend end-isms bayed for harp
choruses, Nightfall went sudden WHOOSH, Homelessness
of the soul came. Death shook a convex mirror and took
another truck driver. On that bend not a soul could see an
open thing

141.

I want an armpit
hinge in the centre
of my breast
as so I can hear
the charity squeak

142.

There is real boys secrets in re-finding
squares of solace / small cemeteries (2 plots) are genius
This is British sanctity
that left behind his syringe

143.

Your apology stopped a hail of rocks. Your apology
stopped me coming out in the 5th with nothing to lose
I was double-crossed. I was set up, I realise, and last
night I thought hard. I had to have this blame, like I
had to have luck and not luck. I sniffed the nail-bomb
they call politics and this office

144.

the nearest sainsburys is here







the nearest sainsburys hater is nearer - here


145.

acoustic guitars
kosha chickens
and spare hooks
9 9 9 9 9 9 9
hang across the top of this page
the sign on the door reads:
before entering, tuck in your lips

146.

Before they go to the disco they iron out their heaps
with creams and lotions and wind powered machines
and several biscuits. They smooth out their heaps in
front of mirrors, in taxi cabs, on the stairs, in the garden
miles up in the air. they speak of men, and some men
are fools they say, for bringing gifts of flowers instead
of tools for heap maintenance. Heaps are for pushing
and pulling and if the heap fits, then they smile, and if
the heap aint shifting, then it’s diet

O my life of heaps O my life in bits, bits of heaps, heels
and heaps and tears. heels and heaps and tears that never
fit anywhere. heaps of Cinderella. heaps of high street.
heaps of whining boils. heaps of hair wrapped in tin foil. heaps of blood to contend with heaps of fathers. jealousy. phones. and heaps of bitch. heaps of poodles. heaps of cats. heaps of scratches. heaps of clothes. piles of hats. heaps of dreams. heaps of horses. heaps of Mondays. heaps of ghosts. heaps of humus. heaps of toast. heaps. heaps. heaps to iron and arrange. and sort. and heaps to send to hell. and a heap
of bricks with a front door bell. heaps. and heaps
and heaps. and heaps and heaps and heaps. and a baby. a baby heaps etc.


147.

Morse code must be really
fucked off with texting

148.

With kerosene for dinner and barbiturates for lessons
I got spots. I walked with a fridge for a head and a
fridge-door that was always open. Youth demands too
much sacrifice. This author remains sceptical stroke
pneumatic

149.

Throwing a castle here, throwing a castle there
one here, one there, another notch tighter goes
the belt, because (ah!) they were very much the
bird tables of the stomach garage dark hole bat-
cave variety

150.

I just stood at the bar with my elbow against it, and my
pint in my hand, and these flashing lights came on, and
the doors opened, and the conveyer belt began with a jolt
and the bar staff all waved and started to cry too and they
turned on all the taps and let them run in my honour – and
they run like waterfalls. I was going out to sea. I was being
taken off, I was launched. And the brass band began and I
went into a blackness stone-still. I was going to that better
place. I was completely made up

151.

You joke with the bar-teller, do you think
I could hit the ceiling with a severed artery. This is
when a paper plane hits you in the eye. It’s hilarious
on her part. You spend the evening trying to make
her see it isn’t.

152.

No matter the price of the hotel, feet up on a grave stone
in the lobby is a deck-chair. The plum that runs this B&B
informs me breakfast is between 8 & 8.03. I pump up my
inflatable carcass. I do what Heinz did to Lou Reed

153.

I want my knees to click. I want to hear the clock in
my heart. I want my chest to crumble and hair to wilt
and blackheads to give up. I want to age. I want to brim
with small quirky old man adventures. I want youth
gone, completely gone. I want to hear him throw down
his keys and run out in tearful disgust


154.

Those that show photos turn like a carousel, wear
a pointy hat, and beg whine beg whine beg whine
This is Larry Graceson with dips, & a shot of a sink
with asthma. And when I hear, that’s why we founded
a charity for sinks with asthma, I ring up everyone in
the world and say do not donate to any sinks with
asthma charity. It’s ill

155.

I didn’t belong to this LSD set. Once a paper-round
always a paperboy. 5 am is for weather. Get off my
window you long-haired cunt

156.

Comedians spend hours
in front of the mirror
jumping, trying to make
their willy bounce in the
opposite direction to the
motion of their body. What
a waste of time - buy a
filthy harpoon

157.

Great fighters have read my poems. Great boxers, and
apes, and menaces, they have read my verse. Love-struck
teens have learned my words, word for word, & recited
them to bathroom mirrors. Ambitious young city types
inhale my scripture, they get high on its positive vibe.
severe maniacs know me but not through my work, &
roll my book like it’s a cosh. I have incited black on black
crime this month. I have put the axe in the hand of a
woman. I have taught kids dirty words about woman’s bits
I have not even finished. I have not even said what I
wanted, and surely that’s the first thing anyone can teach
themselves

158.

From what I heard of her mother I never wanted to meet
her, see her, hear her, or witness her. I was flexible. I had
a bad image of her breasts - burnt. I had a bad image of
her lines [It was Francis de la tour getting emotive over a
biscuit barrel] She is a theatrical trollop I thought, a
disgrace, and a drunk. I don’t like cards. I don’t like
neighbours popping in for a drink. What do I possibly gain
sitting there as you watch me watching her, and watching
her watching me. It is some form of dirty-clinic waiting-
room. And then when I leave for a piss, the words come
out sharp & blunt.

159.

Why does Nelson Mandela always attract more fluff
in other peoples houses?

160.

You are the great wall of china and I am the inspector for
the wonders of the world, and I say to you, 56 years ago
you were up there but now it’s common to be amazed
it’s common to be cynical and amazed. Well, what about
my termites? What about those drilling midges? Well,
there is not yet sufficient damage to claim X wonder of
the world – * see it before it crumbles * but, call me in 37
years. Excuse me, good day

161.

I had a complex arrangement - a
not ordinary – complex impressive,
arrangement of turrets circling my
crown. I was dubbed the bird-man.
The supreme court, the highest of the
high, said your gondola face ‘had no
chance’ really. Even the press appealed

162.

Getting too fat for your suit of armour
But the best work-out is war?

163.

(do) opinion-ate upon the workman ship, as I
said it was long ago. What happened to them?
They chose footage over foot massage. I’m sorry
Well it happens. They had a baby to patch up the
ailing business, that’s me. It wasn’t a suicide pact
It was a joint

164.

whoooosh. up went the wheat into the sky
arrows and arrows of wheat, roots up-ripped
radios left on. wheat met the sorceress in the
back doorways beneath her coat. little fireplaces
the size of peas glowed

165.

A haemorrhage on the rainbow: all of Calcutta is
using the litter-tray!

166.

I have a friend on a cycling holiday
I sit on the remote

167.

Lets face it the dumb bastards have it best. The dumb
bastards who don’t think, who just go bout things
They have it best. They have it good. I tried to bring
out the cretin with cream. I’ve attempted dumb bastard-
ism. I got trench foot. I slept extremely well. But there’s
something that just won’t not be aware. I get to Kilroys
office and cry sirens of badly played flutes.

168.

I’m looking forward to the little perspiration you bring
Aborigine. I’ve seen your thumb paintings and I think
we can work together. After you’ve done your crocodile
Dundee thing, after you’ve defecated on the London eye
pop over - come crouch. I’ll take snaps of you throwing
pickled onions at cyclists, then we’ll eat some sugar or
something

169.

I was just walking down my road, Ellison rd, thinking
about crabs and sand in hats when a small boy the colour
of an olive squashed into a fence leapt his balloon-head
out of the window calling, calling down to his something
I did not see for the bunch of leaves, small ten pence
Leaves and then whoosh out of a small cock came lots of
hot piss. Kids piss, his brother? with his cock out the top
of the pyjama belt streaming loads of piss into the tap tap
went the soils tap tap. and NO NO said the head on its
stick, from above. About five seconds shot through, mud
and piss. Mud and piss and pupils expanding and I turned
like I’d been slapped with a corner, and the pissing boy
was still pissing and laughing and all the piss was shooting
everywhere. Splashing piss as his belly wobbled and he
laughed like popping crackers mixed with sheds collapsing
what a laugh for a small cock boy, and they laughed both
of them now from above and from the mud below they
laughed, and I heard them.

170.

When the clock struck 20:23 the glass chopping board
on the front porch went Chuck CLuck Chuck
it was a carrot and steel hurricane heading our way

171.

one grain of this, one crumb of that, one little nail
broken off, lump of that, and heated over a candle
secretly and carefully blown on, and carefully stirred
as one bit of dust could be a major ingredient in
carrot, celery and peppercorn & dust soup

172.

About 4% of fires are put out with piss
The magazine hedgehog basically, strangled by urine

173.

He filled his recorder with rice for a cosh
for a revenge. (He) could only swing himself
really – as fingers on holes was the buckle on
this venture. (Now) over to the sack race

174.

O

ABOVE
keys on the keyboard that do nothing.
(well, nearly)

175.

it
FREAK OUT

it
PLACID
FREAK OUT

It
PLACID

it ten minutes
it two minutes

it spy
it COURT
it placid

it yip
it yar

it RAT
introduced to marbles.

176.

And why we love to queue –
to burn-in what we think
upon our neighbours pergola?
That’s right.

177.

Spiders must feel sick most of their lives. All insects
must make other insects sick. Eaten sick. Face sick.
Concentration sick. Network sick.

178.

I want a toupee with a hand in it, with a hand
grabbing it. A hand grabbing a fist-full of hair
All matted and bloodied. On another day, a hand
swiping a trophy from a mantelpiece. The movement
is in the spring

179.

C C CCC C C C C C C D D D D C C C C C C
C C CCCCC CC C C CC C CC C C C CCC C C
CCCCCCc cCcCCCCCCCc C C C C C CC CC C CC C
C C CCC CC CC C C C DD D D D DDCC CD CDC D

a) BRIDLE PATH
b) MUDDY BRIDLE PATH
c) ILL CONVEYER BELT
d) NONE OF THE ABOVE.

180.

Did Romeo say she’s alright but she looks about 7
and she acts about 27. So, you only look about 11
and are going on 18, anyway, what did I say about
getting involved with Mitchell brothers, eh?! They’re
14 going on 22, hands like hams. Playing with fire
brother, playing with fire

181.

On one leg she had a tattoo of the Eiffel Tower
And on the other just above the knee a tattoo of
a stick-man. I think he also had a gig with the
flour people.

When her skirt were a hilt she would sing a yarn
about the cheap cost of public transport in Paris
For Prague just add the smell of horseshit –

And speak too after if you asked her, on subsidised
transport in Europe. & sing this yarn, and bring
her knees together meaning how easy was that.
There was no problem.

And even when she was pregnant by private
enterprise - the slag. Nothing sagged enough to
severe tenure.

182.

Bully wear - logo of a fist and a rose - on t-shirts
Head-bands and trousers. Easy trousers, and relaxing
foot wear. Glows (shows up that is) with fuckin fear

183.

Rhubarb, I follow the form.

184.

1. I wipe myself with cooled brass. I pinch myself a
touch behind the ankles. There’s a sign vicars do, and
there’s a sign I do (secret) And now I’m pert and blessed
and tingling, ready to reveal to the lucky woman my
‘detector’ love. If you could walk this way (like a square
frame on cheap carpet) ‘just don’t nudge my Arial’
colleagues will talk (head)

2. GO
3. HOLES
4. NOT BAD
5. POWER DOWN

185.

As a child he pulled legs off of Swastikas and riled county sheriffs with his gravy spoon which was never cool. Always hot, always 145 degrees Celsius and that 4 foot bugger ran down the stretch of white picket fences scolding the strips, branding the paint. and all the smell and fumes joined together in a twirled wispy MySpace page with wow

186.

I can help you, need? A few satirical articles,
political poems, jokes about a dictatorship or
cruel regime.? Are you UN (you en) registered?
Are you thinking of clinging to a truck axel?
Well don’t, guaranteed asylum the wordy way,
call me. Better than picking peas in Kent

187.


AIR

--n ------ n--------P----------- n----n------ n TIME

NONSENSE

n = head
P = broccoli

188.

His head come back with such a thump
Atoms shot up the microscope
The first Seikh amphetamine
The first doll.

189.

There is a handle at the back of your head (with a
little left over tinsel and blu-tack on it) & you can
wind up and down your Adult Education. Bringing
all manner of shops in & out of view

190.

Behind enemy lines. The first spy landed here X
The next spy landed here X
& the next spy here X (no where near)
‘instead of keep sending new spies, why don’t we
just tell these lot to move closer?’, ‘because it’s only
one shot on the black sir’ ‘O’

191.

I gave birth to a seal. I am a kaleidoscope
30 or forty seals to start with said the scan
but on the day just one.
I turned my neck sharply, see

192.

Motorway flu is a variant strain of snooker flu
It was brought to this country by androids
‘These are lovely French cakes,’ you say, then
realising -shock horror- the bag is his extremely-
stretched knuckles, ‘Where did you say you were
from?’ Politely coughing-up into Anne Frank’s
napkin

193.

She wears nothing under her flesh chain-male tunic
and under her skull helmet is her curls, locks and curls
she has the straightest longest nose with a sword in
each nostril, she protects the honour of the harmonica
in the songs about whales

194.

Old man huddled in-over crippled fingers, odd-patched
unshaved hairs on chin, skin colour of dirty coins, rattles
Christ as he brings Budweiser to his lips - like the cliffs
being poured into the sea

195.

I couldn’t see from the front but from the back he
had a large ‘eat an orange’ growth on his cheek
and one of those small hands, and she – fuck – she
looked like she’d been electrocuted, then boiled
then baked, then had a week in a health farm just
to keep the hell from falling out (picking weeds in
an orchard my dear, picking weeds in an orchard)
I thought, and how they ever produced what – I
assume was their daughter I didn’t know, I just like
to think of the tale of the flying dominoes, flying so
fast all their spots fell off

196.

It’s nothing, it really is - nothing ‘a fish versus a
sardine’, and I know a sardine is a fish etc, that’s
all, it will pass ‘Canterbury versus vodka did’
as did ‘a hard suck on the music room’

197.

It was one of those pubs,
where the common family
mix a spirit with a soda
say ‘fuck knows’
and a fireman is involved.

198.

I turned my fist into a french horn shape, a pretzel
shape, and blew a Eb (e flat)
I brainwash ducks,
I have the gullet of the motherfucker duck in my fist

199.

I was in your dream as a rolling number, as a tumbling 6
as the shadow grew and grew, as the 6 was badly written
so it did not roll, but slammed like the pound of a child’s
feet, the first attempt at a head-stand

200.

Has anyone ever bettered themselves with ivy
But twirled in ivy?

201.

I broke nerves and splashed heeling sores with pints
of saline. I knelt on ribs and cracked the carcass
Peter is a suffering Helmetitis. Peter is going mad,
entwining himself in the barbed wire. He cannot get
the helmet on or off

202.

I’m just cooking up a blue-bird curry, and oooo it’s
spicy. I’ve invited around poets and writers and artists
and grandma for 8. ‘What is this? What are these wings?’
‘It’s blue-bird,’ I say. The room goes silent, ‘you can’t
use blue-bird, that’s sacrilege!’, ‘and what’s this, may
I ask?’ Very suspicious of devil me. ‘Well that’s deep
autumnal soup, and that’s shards of glass in a iridescent
pie, anyone fancy a line of Hughes, it’s good stuff’

203.

Spherical captions pass me by, they pass me by again.
they orbit me again and they speed up as I speed up
and I’m handcuffed in travel, I rarely travel. I don’t like
travel. It’s always dialling. Travel is always using it’s
chocolate finger to call

204.

We would meet in secret away from the rest of our
lives. Away from the kettle and the table, apart from
the voices and the tunnels. Leaving behind the neckline
and the disabled. Pulling from the yawns and the desire
to kill. Making enough room to fight amongst ourselves

205.

Besotted with ramming my thighs against your
hamstrings, my knees in your back-knees. Eggs
in cups -marrows stacked (so to speak) rocking
on the runners, hobby-horse from hobby-horse
lane.

206.

Half moon, half thinking about it. Will she arrive with
brandy and a legend for a pillow. Is she really, the arc
of Carry? Something simple then, will then be more
profound, though I’d like a motorbike or a plane.
arc = in covenant Carry = ‘on Films’
the arc of Carry = where they meet for strawberry wine

207.

The wet rushes into place. The berries all polish
themselves up. The leaves begin suicide
It’s green, with a flick of a switch, VOOOM.
Then a bloody fuse blows and the ramblers must
be vaporised.

208.

There is a god waiting for me. He is an eagle on a
plinth, a music yet un explained on the stave. I
want a barrow to break him off and cart him home
I want a hose pipe long enough to soak him and
squish him and mould him into blocks of chivalry
and serpents. I will have the love of a squaw

209.

Who’s the greatest cartoonist? Salvinder the snake
whys that? Because he has a cooking stove in his
room and everyday has a fresh question for the
landlord. Why is my room leaking? Why is my room
leaking? Why is my room leaking? Why is my room
leaking? There is a free-kick in that kids flip-pad.

210.

I was in operation of many buttons. It was not the dairy.
They were like arcade machine buttons - very sprung. I had
more buttons than fingers, and I spread my fingers out. I
was thrust straight into the booth. I’d just nearly flipped my
car. I was on my back. I had back issues from slouching
on my bed. When I said now, the guy above inserted the
wires, no, try again. It would be much easier, like a truck
cab, if it folded forwards

211.

Music shops hate cardboard

212.

What about all the single beds outside the pub
all looking like a hospital ward,
all tipped up on its side. All crashed and
touching, piled-up some. They had to be so we
could get in. They had to be so
we could fuck. I love Samantha Fox

213.

I am being followed by the massive inflatable sign-
language hands. They are like balloons tied to my
shoulders, and they reflect in the glass of my mind.
They are outside. They are inside. They are the deer
you only just glimpse in the rear-view mirror. They
flutter like a bird in a box. I’m reporting these hands
of freakiness to you. I may not come back. I may be
held by the neck by one and flapped away by the other
Higher and higher to another ground. And as we travel
we wave to the other hands and apprentices. And dip
slightly when we do.

214.

They shot an episode of Eastenders here, it was
when Sharon went to Sharon university and
Tracey bought a spirit-level on the cheap. Slightly,
then touched on the psychology of mishap

215.

He didn’t place the fruit bowl on her head as to
part protect/shield her from the island he was
throwing, he was just clearing out the small back
bedroom of the world and had no where else to put it

216.

I couldn’t I couldn’t - it was good -I couldn’t I couldn’t
it was dark and symphonic and moody and England.
‘Cum , cum on me’, she said. But I didn’t want to. I wasn’t
ready. I was Queen & country. I was doing this for the
passport office. ‘I’m tired I’m tired, just cum on me!’ This
was my fathers, this was my fathers fathers, this was our
sausage-roll. ‘cum on me, come on’, ‘I’m tired’.
O great lord of England, great lands of knowing. Send me
some jism. Send me some detail. Whisper me her real
colour and let me shat my bolt.

217.

When I’m up here on stage I always keep a keen eye
on the knee-line. It’s an evolutionary left-over from the
days I was an 18 inch hawk. Every now and then I drift
off. I see the murmur of a babbling brook or an
abandoned mouse hole. If possible I do prefer to angle
myself away from the twitching of a polyester hem-line
just proud of bony knees

218.

Dixie Joe and Tennessee slim were there, there
was a fiddle player too, and because there was
no designated porch we set light to all your mothers

219.

this is the red mark across my stomach

-------------------------------------

I was wedged against Guns ‘n’ Roses
for 7 minutes.

220.

I got a large large key and shoved in the front of my
house, and turned, I wound it up. Took that key out,
sat back on the grass and watched ,the upstairs window
opened, Fester appeared, looked out, closed the window
opened the window, looked out, closed the window etc.
Ben opened the door, jumped onto the step, then jumped
back in, opened the door, jumped out, then jumped
back in, etc. Fester opened the window etc. The roof
lifted up went up slow, slow, then snap, crash down shut
then went up slow, slow, then down sudden snap. Fester
opened the window, Ben jumped out the door. I went
to the back gate, peered over, the sliding-door slid open
then slid shut, the ironing-board crashed smack bang into
it, the sliding-door opened, crash went the settee. I slapped
the side of the house, that was better, everything eventually
wound down. Fester went back to TV and Ben cooked a
favourite meal.

221.

What I meant was the odd night, the odd – what suited
night the glove made of rubber – do you know it?
Well that – that night – on which it signals – just right.
That night. Blow and shake your soapy rubber glove man

222.

I am being exhumed with salad tongs. It is a Saturday
in September. Who would have guessed it. I became a
pencil shaped leaf. A leaf of carbon and nickel. Between
the crack in the patio I went. Dr. Philpott exhumes me,
and holds me up to the Nicholsons and the Farleys and
the Bakers and the Yoriks

223.

Now I know every cog, wheel, nut, screw, fuse and
wire, and all are silver, and I call spell them backwards
I screw down the bonnet (shut) I polish off the hand
marks, I check for any gaps (no, none) I put it in the
garage, & close the door. ten minutes later I’m back,
I’ve changed, I have now a moustache, I have a selection
of moustaches. I sit in the back seat and read a book

224.

People don’t know any different, they were born in this
camp. A soft blue lilo floated by, it was another infant
death, another kid trying to escape. ok, I said. And I
willed it, and we waited for the bottom gas to discover
the top gas. We waited as it fizzed. we waited as the
human chewing sent its sword into the coughing sea

225.

everyone’s in tennis shoes
white tennis shoes
soft canvas shoes
leaking and full of holes
beaten with silver.
summer white shoes
comfy white summer shoes
sloshing through the silver and
doorways to buildings being built
apartments being made

226.

DdDDDD DDD DDD
DD D
DD D DD D

LOTS of NOB ends

227.

Who was ever cursed with the taste, the continual taste of
metal? Well a shepherd was, Gary his name. He fielded
the hills beyond the Grace mountain range, and when he
wandered with his crook to see ducks, platypuses, tortoises
and geese, he just SAW MINCE. Mince, mince & more
mince

228.

I rotated your world baby, I flipped it, 90 degrees – a
90 degree transition, the ceiling became the wall, the
wall became the ceiling, the wall became the floor.
I flipped your world baby, I did not turn it upside down
(who said that). I sent you a spinning swastika, I sent
you a mowers wheel. I leant hard on your room baby
and when I got it tilted, I pulled it from under you. &
you’re still standing babe, you’re still alive. You’re still
the address that you always were

229.

Up on my art is something no one has ever seen.
Up on my art is a burp wrapped in onyx, or might
as well be. Up on my art is where mythic creatures
duel it out for a pinch of salt, ‘cos salt is live or die
up there, on top of my art’. Up on my art is a saddle
that faces north, north by north west, and that is just
my interpretation, of the scales of compass up there.
There are no pegs. There is no catalogue. Art is rested
on art, on one another’s art. Up there on art hillock.
Up there in the infinite breach.