2 Forward, 3 Back

                  documents leaked

        mopped up deceit

tell on me

             talk liberally

speak formally

            behind shirt sleeves

  converse conservatively

                        know your place

                               and

             labour under

                         the misapprehension

              of moving to the centre

       victoriously

 

Virtual Vultures

The lamb only learns when it is loved from a distance

When cradled in arms, feeling cranky to calm

-Zyklon B to embalmed-

It forgets that it knows it ever existed in an instant

I don’t know who I am

I don’t where this is

I don’t know who you all are

But I’m beginning get the gist

I believe finite memory is more

And timeless is less

The mundane middle of Monday

Is where Friday finishes with a written test

But it’s a vexing mess that has no respect

Turns up ending with a blood splattered rest

I am my own Ministry of Militia

A bible basher with a bulletproof vest

Putting words together in new found forms

More real than reality itself

Stravinsky’s riot did me proud

M.C.’s bread is dipped in some funky mould

How dare you sow the seeds of the apocalypse!!

That’s the last job on my to-do list

Wasabi’s buck shot peppering, splits open new tins of green paint

Spraying nuance and subtly

Over a canvas of obviousness

Unique, original and never seen before

Are the curse words of the new generation

Picking like a virtual vulture over past digital corpses

So, gimme sum theeng new

Or

Just leave me hangin’

Take a leap of faith with the future of us all

Or just

Bang the final nail into my compos mentis coffin

Hot Dog

 An iris explodes

  The universe in danger

A one-man cure

     Love is a weapon

Switch on the light

            You’re in the right room

        Finally,

Flossing teeth with razor wire

     Never be near

                Never be near the right flavour

The one-goal that allows for steam to release

              god—damn—that’s blown it

                            Hang Fire

                     Hot Dawg!!!

                   Spectacular speculation

       Cant remove the lid without your help

              Twist, twist, twist- then I give up

Burning in the bush, twigs smoke

           Getting uncomfortable to lie back now

Kneel forward & pray for help

            Until you’re sick as a new born pup