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Sunday, 31 January 2021

gamma squeeze (draft)



Sweepstake the browser
burning powderhouses a
short squeeze on the confederations
of pricing recherch√© 08'
remember suitcases over zephyrs 
the hearthrug of a coup setup
instead the end of some business day
say a cloudless skyscraper of anemone 
in uprated aerodrome of my face 
cheats
 for fresh start from purchaser dictum
another gladbook flickering to meet 
'We're not interested in a logic course' 
dancing sporadic plasticity of derivatives; 
where is my ingrain manager? thrust 
where is my talon of undone thirst?
a cloudless skyscraper, one that mingles 
with the humming of bees 
shaman trader on roof platform 
jumps a lifeline to a lifeline 
with clinked glasses, 
and singing of larks
it is difficult to learn to perform 
ethically in the Clubhouse Finale 
the episode Robinhood learn word of the day is:
Guillotine; a sacrifice topological printout
of thermal quanta asympote 




Wednesday, 27 January 2021

the Parliament House, or Dung Market (Draft)

 

Like Todays Story of the Shirt

a plateful of sundry wretches 

in such a way that they could 

only have endured it, but ask 

on about the villages?

your Middlesex and Epping forest

happy people like pilchards in bottom

cask under cook the dome of sky, 

where nothing is wasted nothing is spoilt

frizz salver piss in a pot look

or hang off spit and ill-blood

even if you have no property

by the nightshirt liniment enjoying the anon?

squabbling on a livelihood

I don't much care for beautiful 

buildings run over with flowers, 

Bastion builds flashing on off 

a ward-mote leads to factory garden

bibbing in sun before the 

looted scaffolding comes down 

Adrian Glasspool, last resident 

we cannot maintain '26 acres of land

for one person' blood hooked 

stack commuter sprawl w/ broken 

statist one by one for flogging 

proper down the metropolitan line 

mortarboard tradition staggers

to a croupier fireside chewing 

nothing much but embers 

of prole-whispers romeo y julieta

gives us bad chests solidarity 

comrades signing off for lack

of cap touch to the very cleanest 

of beautiful souls

earldom starves in the fiend 
of modest deliberation;
like a charred linnet buff
burning for burnings sake 
tend sideways for attrition of one 
market denominator pierrot on
true-hearted behind the News Corp drawbridge 
what shape our bananas have got to be, 
and all that kind of thing or
a high-leviathan foisted arbitrage
like the gaffer's yonder; 
and expert experts form permalinks 
of Continentalist stanchions 
to and fro in worry, 
one handbook to another, belayed
send us up a glass to drink then!

Tuesday, 26 January 2021

Tumour on Rotting Hill, 2021

 

Oil on expensive European Canvas 
30cmx39.5cm 

Monday, 25 January 2021

Dido Harding Bleeding Out a Stone


You must live off plenaries 

in the tiny pip the rental market 

is an alternative fact than the idyll 

of freezing mud its venues in six silhouetted 

storied separations we lay deligh- 

tfully still in our thousands upward

pissing what is cause over effect? 

what is a child infirmary guild? 
Answer: a loud scree, Rishi
a mothball belly collapses to 
capsule red yearning 
and pining I saw feral boys wandering 
out the imploded evil box 
with cracked heads all reckless with stones 
and things like that,
Dido Harding you see her 
after a cyber attack  
or something revealing the details 
of four million faces that's why
anonymity is sacred and 
facelessness is sacrifice! 
so put the human racecourse 
within the exclusion zone!
Participant Manfred Loves You
remember like the softest plush toy 
ever all biding in planter silk 
Homeowner 'watch-it-burn' 
in a McDonalds toilet over and over
again in their elements for good reason 
on Ketamine, acting empathically
blood out of stone and so on,
acting like it’s hurting close 
your eyes into the stresses 
Sefton, Horse of the Year
on route to Changing of the Guard 
Dido Harding bleeding out a stone
with cards and mints and things like that
those that died were called 
Cedric, Epaulette, Falcon, Rochester, 
Waterford, Yeastvite and Zara
all this sweetness all in 
dark outside clipping, we thought 
we saw it moving. We had to shoot it 
to relieve its suffering 
the clubhouses have moved again
like we've all got some socialism 
inside us and no one has scabies, Dido Harding 
there's no misery for good reason 
like rocks Dido Harding bleeding out 
over Quango our empty white lanyards 
all seem to be shrinking through our insides
echo grey are bloodless stones Dido Harding
in the carbine in the ellipse in a- 
nything representing a motorcade
of hate you’re still the 
same persuasion rick with h- 
eart of shrapnel, and we will nev 
er die, softly or faintly again
in a rentiers ring-a-rosie at 
noon our little empty lanyard dangles
out, Serfton archangel partly swollen,
without blood in a full state kit
we have to exit the vicinity only 
real workers can stay on site only 
Dido Harding still to come and 
we will never tell them, even a 
single word picked out of a rose
spoken I would rather die than 
become a Rose scabbing
from the glasshouse rental market
rocks that flinch for no good reason
don't care my life is freezing 
mud and thawing out in 
sunhats O up-to-drizzle 
off inheritance lets chalk 
ourselves to the perma-dorms of
the poor students fuck off Andrew Neil 
is hard as nails hard as faeces 
hard as the Labour Party is full of 
hearties with dispensaries 
my factotum is twisting in
all looking out on open 
heart surgery hot seated 
in the HR dept is
representing brightness itself 
like everything denied to 
us is flowing through our 
workload upon Homeowner 
I, without an alias 
Labour Party fuck off 
the sunhats O the sublime O
with lightship O rainstorm like 
distinct ideologies never hustled anyone 
sometimes it feels like there’s 
nothing we can do about it
underneath a bandstand 


HomeOwner

 



 


In red tarn speak with nettles 
a codex of twilight workload,
my twisted fingers wrought 
in a turnabout no rest breaks I
implode planted sedge rags 
off poor eaten rep fucking 
corpuscle in Southwark 
drubbing a homeowners lock
an eyelash cuts Hail Mary's 
from glasshouses as upward mobility
titled 'The Grandparent Effect'
O childminders of the gabardine,  
hand outs are a creed too!
its a living put the kibosh on
a scarcity holograph slithers me to my 
sepulchre of worked chimes 
an unhurt word stings out
to kickback in real time trademarked
disincentive to cathode tearaways 
underneath chirrup 
with an overbalance sweetener,
Chartwells green spouts strong 
& stable choir boy harangues in mid-hue
I’m an apolitical tee banging the bishop
from a ballot box a voice
says swivel is all you need 
Exploding Head syndrome
it's a Causeway over mattock Homeowner


Wednesday, 13 January 2021

Reckfuls Final Moments on Twitch (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)

 



H.M. Factory Inspectorate

on swan pedalo holding on

the repository roll

to ameliorate sooner or later 

a floor operative all the way 

back to Heaven again 

I planted secret radios

on the banks of the Euphrates,

held together by a dry leaf picket line 

and carried on sniffing ether from my bowl

O to toil in the rubicon 

makes you sore bellicose 

before the barcarolle resumes

as happy music, you cry out 

rooted to the harmonic spot

teeth-whitening indoors again 

“It is the next day.” no teeth

you hadn't realised nodding cruxiformed 

in the London sky beading red

I pray to the ArcelorMittal helter-skelter

twice nightly, reduced me to cathedral tears 

to drinking to waking smiling  

to eventually running as Oracle 101 

over creches of voluntary Hi-Vis blowing 

white flags from the Dream Station, unstuck

a concrete pillbox slips into shimmering pontoon 

I set North to a flue gas stack empty people 

reconstruct a kind of twilight of working, 

a sort of unblinking cosmic relic 

of spared hamstrings in Worker jackets

torn adrift to be today? 

in the deep morass of history 

the Dream Station sinks I lay out 

go back to the most insurgent rostrum 

I ever had mined 

my Hammarn soft-bed, unclothed

fretting and tinging I lay down

and equipment rends on in my absence

an image vanguard in pell mell

there was no illness inside me

only contracted speaking from above?

Oracle 101 'They do how?' versions of 

Monday converge in renal cortices 

as the New Dark Age taps my moth eaten 

hands swipes right off command 

stuck in I am scentless with peak freedom 

a red tape rolodex wraps around

my neck sheds a rubber stamp 

Friday my doctor throws the book

throws the gears of my virtual

skelecog in the choking fug 

reunite near the water cooler

but withdrawal time runs

down inside me I am sad to report

scarcity through a key-hole slither

I speak with my neighbour 

he says "Get in early."

helps the Oxford Mindfulness Centre 

comes twice a fortnight with my ether bowl

it drives a bendy bus 

usually found badly animated

'It doesn't, does it?' 

with fare-dodgers scrumming the rear

all falling off quiet as pelch, 

I take the bowl from a red rose

tattooed hand swollen with resting blood

O centurion of stale twinge

in my nostril and heavy antecedent love

white-on-red in a kind of English pastoral 

projection, I lay back its Reckful's final 

moments on Twitch 808 

do not interrupt intrusive 

for euphony






 


Tuesday, 12 January 2021

In Boiling England, 2020




IN BOILING ENGLAND, 
2020 

30 new poems 
62 pp, self-published bound paperback 

At the UK National Living Wage £8.72 GBP 

Paypal: 

£8.72 GBP for mainland 
£10.72 GBP for International 

Or email: coledenyer@live.co.uk

Cover Design and interior typography by Sophie Carapetian
Typesetting by Joshua Hart



Monday, 11 January 2021

I've broken the cult of youth in my head (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)

 


Today a fascist coiled my skin

trampled in the rotunda

bandoliers on their shoulders

to survive egg slicing mini-harps

centrifugal some copse sunn blonde 

today I weep on Larcom Street

windows blown out 

in prop debris the hands and feet

of production teams swindle

me off medium incantation 

today my skin in trickle ip

dawn wire adds neither 

smoke to my proper wish 

bores on liver,

by several CYP isozymes 

today I take inhibited lines never

tomorrow I loathe 

venal breads  

and water so what of it 

a postman mile stands on my chest

and to rationalise a yesterdays

trig point etheric 

today over years, with no heft

the rubber teat 

is treated like dog ball

in tussock hiding ash 

barricades today my butter house

I drink a cup of 

unhappy rabbit 





Sunday, 10 January 2021

Geschichte des Stuhls (Faust Shkaravsky), 2021

55cmx90cm 
Oil on expensive European fabric 


 

Thursday, 7 January 2021

Maddie as Maggie, 2021

 

35cmx35cm 
Oil on Expensive European Fabric