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Thursday, 17 July 2025

16.07.25

 


No poet can hope to understand the nature of poetry unless he has had a vision of the Naked King crucified to the lopped oak, and watched the dancers, red-eyed from the acrid smoke of the sacrificial fires, stamping out the measure of the dance,  their bodies bent uncouthly forward, with a monotonous chant of: 'Kill!  kill! kill!' and 'Blood! blood! blood!' 

Graves


16.07.25




Tiny sigils prophetic birds

career developments & personal aspirations

redirected towards humiliation—Catullus 

basted in votives into my softened 

mouth for only hope turns like you said 

a metallic grating sound in the head 

its the scar in the air & how can 

we best support you with this? postdrome

a steadicam of politically 

bullish anti-violence homilies no

a stripped back idea of Britishness 

crackling on premium-grade gravel 

under the wheels of company bosses 

The Rolls Royce Silver Spirit 

like the 80’s & now? reader 

no Bennite solution

the strangler of cries flag girl 

my friends are beginning to die 

& hide gloms of golden saxifrage  

its requiesce fading purlieus 

stickling in the dream stations,

the paraboloid roof plunges   

glass & concrete miming 

the detritus of our lives

into an upturned ark

the imagined version of the 

1% as architectural design, bed of grey

all people outside are now dead as voices 

from near silence under kissing buildings,

landscrapes your hands & face 

forget yesterday's unkindness

its the heritage version history today

embedded bas-relief shit 

buried centuries our little gaps 

of sedge to mouth made hollow 

a wealth of sickness streaming

the past enjoyable light

 on Kings Cross road 

at night on small infill sites 

this linecharts prophecy   

HS2 straw warnings 

Rotes Wien cannot prevent 

blood skeleton career winning 

skinfoils endthwart & the rockfoils  

overlong welts sinking emptier  

& shallower anachronisms


Wednesday, 16 July 2025

15.07.25


15.07.25



You can almost see

the comedy of sunlight mhamieo 

you terrified me that night

in hearts quiet disguise 

on green leatherette mhamieo 

kleptomaniac beefeater chamber 

we self defeat together 

brakes are free too

your lips chipped into air 

onto my chest 

a song of bones alone closed 

generally considered poor form

to consume alcohol

other than as part of sacrament 

on church premises, 

turning up intoxicated 

to church service 

would be considered disrespectful 

mhamieo you can almost see someone's 

got to help me at some point 

work place reasonable adjustments 

slide down in quiet breaking 

we are spoken over the broad fields

beneath turn crimson still I turn 

to mhamieo's quietest chamber 

&all of sickness pull over

crosses inside me


Tuesday, 15 July 2025

14.07.25

 14.07.25


The already-dead term 

the cure is poised as disease 

a dead blood skinned 

off Yaxleys 

this quivering song 

is for you alone 

the restless sea-waves 

foam insurgent

upon White Rock England 101

inflicts no punishment 

to any inhabitants of 

paradices nickering tongue

so asleep is this song 

called terrifying person

& are there any Yaxleys 

in the room tonight?

we get it on almost every night

when that moon is big && bright

it's some supernatural delight

dancing in the moonlight

underneath the righteous brought near

right abundant cups ever-filed

from a spring of never-stale water

ever-fresh milk a purified you

faces hands elbows

limited/short glances 

I could never forget

narrowing re-gifted youth & 

the condom of purple flour 

at the British Prime Ministers foot

these hadiths have they ever stood? 

no hidden pearls no beautiful whiteness

no angels shall enter upon them

no in the mornings 

no on this day

no busy rejoicing 

no scooped up last claim 

to no-one ever again.

Monday, 14 July 2025

10.07.25

 10.07.25


A white spectral army in disguise 

an emblem for security 

twisted slight all but death, for death 

pumped up from the earth  

a successful Master Diplomat

this incantation is mine  

instead its versions a Rigby ring

are shaved hearts of 

remote conquest the squinted gables

the underelected marches remembering

the kindred faces 

it's just my point of view see

generationally slued 

consternation siphoned backblood

inside the vastness of this night

& its fragile ghosts again Oswaald

put these in your mouth

dressed as Batman, Robin, or

Superman

hanging from roofs 

so feelings stray our lasting   

breath & inebriations 

twisted all but death, for death 

the sorb in me is honey-coloured

horse-hair wig & I decide the plumage 

the prophetic birds

the snowflakes so many things 

falling under my Waning Sun 

your granddad

at the border freezing cold 

he speaks in whispered mumbles 

walks the whole white cliff alone

touches his chest & says: 

I am the perfect image 

of mankind 

Made by God 

to remind 

him of his son 

My back is straight 

like a straight 

white line’ 


11.07.25

 11.07.25



I believe that you are still 

moving through the world 

unmelted your spastic speeches 

drunk in my dead body out your eyes 

logarithmic abrasion strips

& now  Procedures beneath 

so many lids say Absence Policy 

say Meeting under Managing Sickness 

say from the bed 

Formal Health Review 

say remembering under a moonlit silence

you’re reformed quiet to bare 

waxing so private 

the rites which evulsed   

there is no ‘acceptable’

level of sickness absence allowable

turning lifeless elbows 

& life discretes pathic moving missives

repeat this tantra from the bed epiphany,

feeding like cells how to break under it  

 & live there uncommittables 

in the direction of feeling 

much like our own 

 claim together 

can you live? like an injured proctor 

as eaves begin to pull, a face

yours into view from the bed


12.07.25

 12.07.25



To a day bruising pill 

cold tarries & whisperlesses 

start again those stymied

compressions

of the mirage & echo

white are my fingers

medlar of like 

the ash from which

is Irish 

probably the line in which 

it occurs is part shedding  

inferenced fragile ghosts