Archive for water

If They Tell You to Straighten Out, Tell Them to Go to Hell

Posted in poetry with tags , , on July 17, 2017 by malartart

I daren’t cough

         Not with your cock in my mouth

I shall not covet my brother’s wife

                I will just vote their party out

This is not an apocalypse or a dystopia

           Growing from the ground

Its body parts rejuvenating with a subtle change of mind

        A fight’s a fight whether you’re wrong or right

Whether with fisticuffs or M16s

                 Black knuckles punch above their weight

Whilst spitting bullets go whistling by

                  This is the ear my neighbour slit

                 Because of no training and the DTs

         He takes another swig of Long Island Iced Tea

                Whilst wishing down a well for small mercies

           So, do not cover your bleeding lip with a neckerchief

Stop bending over backwards to accommodate their vision

               Just stand up firm, look at them in their eyes

And try and be straight with them if you can


Just About Missing Out

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on July 23, 2015 by malartart

A flame-war of silence

Oceanic violence

More of a watery hell

Than a grave

Burning not


Mermaids bedevil

For the hell of it

So you’re

Crashing onto


Breaststroke through


Tongue swells in


So lucky to have


Bottom of seabed

On knees


To even Pick Your

God knows


Sound Reflecting off a Mouse’s Tail: (((Only Amateurs Leave the [mic] On)))  

Posted in poetry with tags , , on April 7, 2015 by malartart

Bedrooms as long as a car ride w/Millie (a model of sorts) : Airing bed sheets as a dirty flag to the driver downstairs

Maid’s clean the bathroom —

that’s as far as this stereotype wants to breathe

Squeak —

they can be heard (moving) around the studio

Inconvenient reverb makes a fool out of the best of us

[where were you last night, with your PJ’s packed and an empty hip flask?]

                     [don’t tell me you were going to that midnight film festival]

Hell, my sore headed siblings saw it in the tabloids today —

editor’s notes dismissed out of hand

Talentless hacks= Paper thin journo is therefore paper thin (un)sure on what to say

Believe in Q&A, listen fucking listen, only amateurs leave the mic on after speaking so clearly and succinctly

Brow low, head high, counting the drones

Go toe to toe with a little of what y’know and I think that’ll drown out their reoccurring hangover

[The little one wants to get reacquainted with the trap: Only because it’s got nothing but cheese on its mind]

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