Tuesday, May 15, 2018

99-pirate


– – – – I – – / / –
can’t find my way on a Sunny day
– – – – I – – / / –
in the park like it’s afterdark
– – / / – I – – – / –
in the mode of a day coll tay

– – / / –
smoke loft bell rung,
– / / / / / / – / –
feeling soft like a debutante
– – I – –

conCushion on my first run
my head is strung, my socks are long
swashbuckled up my entrejambs,
look swish buttoned up in nylon

button up lover zips off 
smoke rush bell rung

i can’t sit straight on a summer’s day
i’m eating bark at an after park
my head is wrong, my legs are long

mr birchtree fucks like a hipp-iieee
silkworms swimming in my pectoral muscles
crushed cumen in my cheese and my lipglossoms
much ado about the heat but i'm still loving it




Right now I'm in a state of mind / I wanna be in, like, all the time

I had some small difficulty falling asleep last night (I know, bite me).

By the time I woke up, the refrein of Ariana Grande's No Tears Left to Cry was blasting through my oneiric Hi-Fi.

This song is #1 on the charts in my native country.

Though this be madness, yet there be method innit man

Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Late Swimmer


We're going for a swim in the water
You should try and get your phone charged
Let me light yer cigarette for ye'

tell the girls not to go too far

Victoria [na-na-na oh],
Laetitia,
Rihanna!

where are ye’?

We’re having lots of drinks by the water, 
are you coming in-in-in-in-in?

faceshopper

The sandals are precariously constructed with rope and lace tied around the feet. As you make your way to the stage someone steps on your foot, pinning you to the ground. It stays there. You could kill. You could cry.
You realize the potential of this feeling. It will propell you to immeasurable heights of vocal bitchiness.

  'squint, look askance, Richard!'
your hand slides across your lips as a diphthong gets itself ready.

'Get out of my shop!'




Walk like an Egyptian


When I sit in the cabin of the movers’ truck they make jibes at the pedestrians like some cowboys at a theatre, I can see myself, the object of their scorn, affecting sundry professions.

I've gotta find a way to breathe
to stretch, to kneel, to bend, to be
when I walk the streets
or am sat beside the Joshua Tree

The complaints of Khakkeperre-seneb

Had I unknown phrases
Sayings that are strange
Novel, untried words
Free of repetition
Not transmitted sayings
Spoken by the ancestors.
I wring out my body for what it holds,
Sifting through all my words;
For what has been said is just repetition,
What has been said has been said...

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Therapy for drugdealers and stockbrokers


find sleep

Buy art; listen to podcasts on neuro-diversity; attend discursive lectures on design and film, consider ways of monetizing cultural capital; cross-dress by night with Mary Katrantzou (in the Bois de Boulogne!), stream shows by day on dance and gender; dance.

We are an unprotected people.