Archive for magick

The Calligraphy of Taboo Against Knowing What It is

Posted in poetry with tags , , on June 2, 2017 by malartart

Not it is written

                           But

How it is written

Indecency has

a tendency

to ineffectuality

within the

space-time as

the curve of

the gilding

upon the back of

a black mirror

for scrying

Fortune Shines On Little Grey Men

Posted in poetry with tags , , on November 19, 2014 by malartart

It’s been a curious November…

made a pass at Flex on more than one occasion, he was ever so kind and brushed it off as if it (they) were just one of those thingS (plural important)

–just like he always does–

grey men stopped me in the street and asked me who I thought I was, Flex stood in for me and told them they’d have to wait for their answer

unfortunately we are not the fortunate and nothing shines on us, other than what is deserved, or that’s what Flex always says anyway (states?)

–I’ve just realised these are not my thoughts–

“Look ma no hands, no strings on me, cut me and I bleed”

Flex isn’t a part of my life anymore, he’s relocated to the trees

One Thing Leads to Another

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on February 25, 2014 by malartart

I am sat in an art gallery café reading

a book. I look at the words

they have meaning because of

the writer’s intent and my perception. In the

background I can hear You Can Never Tell

by Chuck Berry- where it is coming from I

do not know. It reminds me of that scene

from Pulp Fiction

where John Travolta

and Uma Thurman

do the twist in the dance

competition at the retro style diner.

Travolta does the batsui which is the

dance Batman does in the sixties movie based on the

T.V. series.

The Batman T.V. series started my lifelong love

of comics and in particularly the

character of Batman.

When I was child I liked him because

he was cool. Now I am an adult

I like him because he is cool. I suddenly realise I have read

almost two pages of the book

and have not taken any of it in- so much for the writer’s

intent and my perception.

I stare at my coffee cup and

realise I will never have this moment again- I am glad

as I  hate  things

repeating themselves.

I go back two pages in the book

and start reading it again.

23/23/23

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on February 27, 2013 by malartart

Morningstar wake me

Grind me to pepper

And sprinkle my atoms over Venus’ ass

The Pope married on Tuesday in a blinding light

And the drones drove their cars

Out of Restless Town

All those smiles they never earned

Cruel jibes, behaviour learnt

Last time coffee stains swapped from tears

What time of year is it?

On the strike

Twenty three minutes past 11pm

Exactly?

Bi-po but no excuse for mugging the cause

Waiting for applause

23rd ripped at the seams so into the 4th

We go

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