Tag Archives: society

Self-images are of the Past

Self images are of the past 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

And “Society”, from “Into the Wild”

Eddie Vedder

(Skip Ad!)

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

The boulevards that are life

 

Without gazing further

than the next shop-window

walking down the street

along the boulevard that is life

 

Sobbing in restrooms

of cities without names

picking garments on sale

along the boulevards that are life

 

Hanging paper over holes

in the walls and

pounding on a nail for the hostage

driver of a hijacked bus

and the zebra crossings

are black and black only

and deep

between the boulevards that are life

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

The point

 

I am alone

for the first time in a long time

with Sarah Kane

I want to stuff my face and I don’t want to eat

I think we should divorce but stay together forever

Well you don’t bleed once a month, do you?

 

Test icicles

gong fear

fear of flying

bell jar

erica jong & sylvia plath

 

The everyday

tinkering meddling

lingering paddling

saddling straddling

fingering padding

I have ambitions whether you like it or not,

I like it or not

do you prefer approval or truth?

 

Sara, she was born in 71

and hung herself in 99

Harold Pinter delivered a personal fan mail

after her play Blasted

 

Clear a path for yourself.

Grow a tree, chop it down

and learn to make it roll

 

Turn those daytime Visions

Into reality by night

 

Assia Wevill, a Holocaust survivor,

killed herself too

and her Shura too

whilst Sylvia left two behind

 

On the brink

in a mad world

where is the point in which to live?

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Still waiting for the Barbarians

 

O, Boring rhetoric speakers

With your government made laws.

We all know already

All that you have to say

And loose ourselves in thoughts

But today-

 

Assembled in a waiting room

A forum with only one

White window, only one

Question – When will they come?

We are waiting for a sign

– O Barbarians!

 

You shall be so dazzled, confused even

By empty streets and squares.

Only ministers / predators parading

In emeralds and togas carrying

Their canes of gold

While we are waiting here

– Waiting to unfold.

 

When the night is moving closer

Our excitement grows, but then

We are dazzled, confused even, there are

No barbarians coming, men tell us

Who come in from the borders,

Waiting as well.

 

And when the night keeps falling

Borders, mayors, home secretaries, the Queen herself

What are we going to do now?

 

She walks home from the city’s main gate

Cleans her crown of jewels for auctioning, and we,

I guess we’ll slowly leave this room

Maybe leave one or two behind.

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Old stop: Old Street

splash spirit awake with tea

0800   101  107  for making

four   grand   into    thirteen

 

sit           down           inside

the       tube    inside

the       tunnel          and be

an independent thinker on, on, on

 

can you feel it

that             sand             of

a Thailand beach

 

my          stop

Old Street

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Do it

Re-fined re-signed re-designed
formation phalanx drag
another stick to the forte,
fornicate
and drown in formic acid

See streets
see aunts (convoys)
and ants that forsake forests

Heavens turn red
in anger
or alit with our forte
Litmus is proof

Hypnotic rain polluted clouds
move away too
towards
evening light enshrined

Re-fined re-signed re-designed
formation phalanx puncture
another swelling cyst,
they think,
rarely,really, but
congratulate themselves,
subtle as packaged milk

Hear cavity
see clang
smell freshwater fish
without a wrinkled nose

Be smooth
make sense
be honest
be dense

Heavens turn red
with love
and alit with our forte

Litmus is proof:
Outside the brackets
life is

Aflame
afloat in a thimble
in afterglow
– ashore
examine the tissue
of a living body
bisected, buried

Undig me
unpick me
take me home

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Big houses with big yards

Dark waters of heavens
cringed by fog.
No sound no whisper
no secret snog.

Big collections with big meanings,
dark alleys, suffocating smog,
no wind, no weathercock,
no hidden song.

Big men with big visions,
light memories of childhood
reduced en vogue.
No garden, no Eden.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,