Wednesday, 29 July 2015

187

the sun strides in
long-legged over the landscape
while rivers of light snake by this platform
a daily cask is broken
so where sunshine finds its way, the dust dances

Saturday, 27 June 2015

Today in the Past: June 27th

Today is the anniversary of the writing of the song 'Happy Birthday'. You may have heard it. How can we say that it was definitely June 27th 1859? Well, Johnny, we can't, but it must have been first written on some day and that date is as good as any. The solstice had passed and a Central plain was cooking in a dry heat, wind dropped. Probably an Arctic discomfort balanced itself on each toe and every nose in the room. Perhaps there had been an argument. The words weren't added till nearly half a century after. Much death would have happened in the meantime. The melody's writer had most probably kicked the bucket by that point. Generations of people since, in a lot of different places, have sung simple words to mark some person's birthday. We all deserve to take our turn in the middle of the circle. Switch from a completely different language, or sing the meaning in your own way. Follow the pattern. People come and go. It may be worth noting. Why not sing in the meantime? Cliffsides, attacked by ever-lapping waves that work tirelessly till eventual collapse, and buzzing meadows, too: all's sunkicked. Charged up and alive for a while. 'Happy birthday x'.

Tuesday, 12 May 2015

never need to sleep again

never need to sleep again
will it and it could come true
the dream butterfly cloud passes
and everywhere plants grow ceaselessly
till the whole world's swallowed up

wrecking the fibres of the mind
by willfully unpicking happiness fret by fret
hard-fought for joy's hard spent, too
with the pleasure being to ransack your spread-eagled wallet for its every last scrap of fortune

die a whole lifetime to reach the top
only to jump off
never need to sleep again
if there's work to do

Friday, 8 May 2015

In Love With The Geek

"Her voice isn't for everyone. Well, you know what I mean." I'm wasted and I can't find my way home. "Listen to the ease with which Ginger Baker does it - swing blues punch god." Arguing that Dylan was a great singer, that Kurt Cobain really was a marvellous bard. Taking it up the nose, talking out your hat - to the point that Pop majesty's a pixie stardust nightsky mystery, the smoke up at the Oracle, a sprinkling of religious connection. In love with the geek, you talk yourself blue.

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

there's a fucking forest

the trashed-out car is,
though it's not moved for a year or two,
still a vehicle of eras that constant abide,
(between each, bijou to bijou),
as fog-soaked language passes the divide.

dandelion blossom as bright as the sun,
(you know)
distant-sourced photons make life, one to one,
grass-fed beef complements a vegetarian diet,
you all should try it.

finally, a hundred-hundred folklores
from far-flung shores cross-globe
can document the microbe,
enunciate the concept of infinity,
don't talk to me about a tree of humanity,
there's a fucking forest

there's a fucking forest
since time time time immemorial
there's been an inevitable progress
that can only ever orbit a lifespan
flourish before sinking back down
in the voiceless firmament

but how do you pay the rent?

there's a fucking forest
Chinese gods process

'I have heard the pigeons of the seven woods
 Make faint thunder,'
hate any 'greats'
that's WB Yeats

Monday, 23 March 2015

Lyrics to be shouted over the vueille

scribbled down while watching a film
 
1. a wasp nest is a terrible thing
2. collapsed in the rain//beyond caring
3. coughing up blood//a cause for concern
4. Christ all Friday
5. Christ on a bike
6. top or I'm out
7. like it or not you need people//like it or not you need people//like it or not you need people

Thursday, 19 March 2015

Listening to Courtney Barnett

trees grow up there pure silver/you sleep in every morning and miss the dawn/miss lunch/the heart's full of nonsense and a jumble sale mind won't get you nowhere/you want to grow tomatoes?/time to get pro-active/till you get trouble breathing in/lie back while I call up the ambulance/quicker run you up there myself/it's only round the corner

The trees that grow round here are pure silver. While you're asleep the sunlight pours in as thick as honey. Your room looks gorgeous white and tidy. If only you could see it. We lay you out on the raised partition between their parking spaces and ours. Couldn't breathe till you held my hand.

She's the finest kooky cookie I've ever seen, he told me. Could hardly hear him, even as he interrupted my repose posings. Watching you sing. Against my will I was so wide-eyed I could feel my skin breaking. My face splits open and all feeling expands out away. I'm lost in an ever-extending pause. Your voice is an anchor.

Round the corner rabble-rouser. The rush of coffee-black blood is thumping against the insides of my head. I'm a million miles an hour. It's all icy silence. Under the streetlamp spotlight the tree's lit up like a silver skeleton.