HAZARDS
ATWO
“Health is a state of
complete physical
mental & social
well-being not merely an absence of disease
& infirmity”
World Health Organization
So your nervous tab slips razor blades
into heads & from the gate
scabbing brocades
& the fumes from fingernails tenderly gibbetted
grease , the odour of burning cloth
whilst wiping clean the breaking joint
the fact that we stand on grids buckled
for the nine hour shifts
&solder B shift
blood circles ;strange ,as bedfellows
& bad lighting illegalises eyes to warming
& sworn in working PPE (for eyelets, earmarks mouthholes etc.)
that scrim & stand still unbroken,
our unavoidable seizure arms,
hold 'but the City,' chuckles collapsing
into turbulent tectonics of bumps,
kidney shaped abscesses
curling black lids fading shells
my little impish gentleman in grey,
chokes to poison your bone marrow
with a shrill laughter in the throat
& weakening of our hands & hearts;
filling us with divisions,
confusions, tumults, & every evil work;
O I rest, under it’s OK ate it daily overscabs
to & what they shadowed; pinkish
from the fumes to
fingernails tenderly:
incise without finger-posts, without
mark or death or pneumatic chisels ! but this is yet done.
over twisted glimpses, a faces vanishes
in the ground justice it’s
as wrenching ammonia,
tar & benzene the wholesome air
a thorax simmers away
daydreaming at home again,
feeling unwell, drunk & breathless,
burning. of nausea & itching
O Spirit dry rebury a binder of moulds,
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y
*we possess declining, many branches are,
forward, struggling to find a way
what is not
our function
in the stock
exchange
;in British industry feed me decibels just as
not to be mangled, burned,Information sheets
is heeled out to tell us
to casçade water & shite over our heads or re-
placing it
with a torch battery
, the norma] logarithmic
procedure to keep the lines running
at all costs, get some polythene
(inflammable) stretch it over our heads
tie it with a bit of string this type of
thing is highly dangerous & it is always that or die,
& nothing is primitive as polyurethanes
red gushing their catalyst anomies
Organic Supernanny Knows Best
the only mantra is
not to be mangled, burned,& docked I
imp-
lore us; spectral Keith Josephs failing the radiant closeness
of someone intangibly me&
now gone & even now the
Arch-Bishop of Canterbury on old daylight,
waving & smiling & moving on
old signal flame I hold behind these songs
in heads & mouths burned out all the shit
burning whilst wiping clean
the back of my chair;
to escape, or surround me; to blood
& purge
