On Pain (IV) (draft/unfinished)

 On Pain (IV)

That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every oar a thought in readiness though that death were light in such a case. An endless wind doth tear the sail apace 

Sir Thomas Wyatt

Like insects crawling like water 

running on skin of numbness 

& tingling strange sensations 

the ‘energy plug’ has been pulled 

with lots of noise & lights, chest pain 

blurred vision burning mouth syndrome 

it may help to explain why some people feel 

low in mood, depressed, frustrated, anxious 

worried about things 

in the gaping scar affected hover above it 

to drop down inside revolved to music 

do you believe in an all seeing god, 

a benevolent all seeing god? do you 

could you imagine a world 

without a god, would it be this world? 

or is there another 

opening up somewhere 

after this one is done? do you believe 

blackthorn dogrose field maple changes

get confused or altered in the rain

or an alarm reduced that won’t turn off 

nerve messages get amplified 

& made bigger & so you feel more pain

last of the hedgerows to separate me from 

grassland finding path edges i would take you 

to the totally indifferent pumpworks 

near Biffa Waste Management gentleness 

a pale blue you see this

like sharp brittle realisation

is going to be far easier to co-ordinate 

in Paradise the frailest spirit made you wait

 for the manna of karmic retribution 

again i use this object on myself, 

it was granted to me by the zero-sum game 

in the triangle of symbols or outside it 

through a sort of twisted allegory 

the unlivable & the process 

of making oneself lovable 

recognisable in the face 

a hand of snow in the fields of changes 

how in my throat a cloud of derk 

too sometimes pink sometimes rose 

is formed through abjection 

expels parts like this 

a compulsive repudiation 

by which the subject 

incessantly sustains itself 

i want to take your sickness 

put it inside me the chemical hit 

from which the music emerged 

its wearied cords that settled on my 

scrotal hernia ‘poetic’ bacteria, 

like the stars hidden into word.

Yaxley Libretto II (draft/unfinished)

 

In fragments of black 

destroy every part of your entire life 

eyelids together, as though 

wished to sleep 

mimic feats 

can be phased out 

without loss 

can be made 

into an ending 

without loss 

waymo your heart 

here without loss 

On Pain (IV) (draft/unfinished)

 On Pain (IV)

That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every oar a thought in readiness though that death were light in such a case. An endless wind doth- tear the sail apace 

Sir Thomas Wyatt

Like insects crawling like water 

running on skin of numbness 

& tingling strange sensations 

the ‘energy plug’ has been pulled 

with lots of noise & lights, chest pain 

blurred vision burning mouth syndrome 

it may help to explain 

why some people feel 

low in mood, depressed, 

frustrated, anxious 

worried about things 

in the gaping scar affected 

to drop down inside 

self-management brought together 

do you believe in an all seeing god, 

a benevolent all seeing god? do you 

could you imagine a world 

without a god, 

would it be this world? 

or is there another 

opening up somewhere 

after this one is done? 

do you believe 

in blackthorn dogrose field maple changes

get confused or altered in the rain

or an alarm reduced 

that won’t turn off 

nerve messages get amplified 

& made & BIGGER so you feel MORE PAIN 

last of the hedgerows to separate me from 

grassland finding path edges 

again i use this object on myself, 

it was granted to me 

by the zero-sum game 

in the triangle of symbols

or outside it 

through a sort of twisted allegory 

the ‘unlivable’ & the 

process of making oneself “lovable” 

“recognisable” in the face 

a hand of snow 

in the fields of changes 

how in my throat 

a cloud of derk 

too sometimes, pink or rose 

ego is formed through abjection 

expels parts of the self like this 

i want to take your sickness 

put it inside me the chemical hit 

from which the music emerged 

its wearied cords that settled on my 

scrotal hernia ‘poetic’ bacteria, like the stars 

hidden into word. 

On Pain (III) (draft/unfinished)

 On Pain (III)

Hi friends,  

We might be the first generation that doesn’t die.

To that end, my team and I have spent the last few years

building the world’s first Don’t Die protocol. 

Rose note ends goals, purposes, meaning 

in the genital area snow falls again 

has itself become sick 

tenderness in the coarsest demands 

what is turning in the wrong sky 

dear light & to vanish closed 

the scent of oleander, pink pepper & 

tamarisks lingers forever

& in the diadem goodness  

before fade-outs must be the Heart

now gradients in your Don't Die Crewneck

negative values conspire apart

can be eventually eliminated abandoned

what cruel brightness

denied your sleep

between the Left & the Right

wrecked chine

torn lithium downlight 

Eternal Gardens but lay for me here

you your sweet-rising voice 

rouged carmine pining

as if the dead would wait 

pains or becoming visible again

there in your room

are peaks gently kissed

inwards its private world

so we become an insurgent cell

of one & when love is not unbroken or exiled, 

& not without eyes 

can be that skeleton that unpities every word 

inurns small drubbings on the Kingdom of the Sick

the New River Walk its dewy garden

abolishes suffering resting on hips 

leaks out the last crypto-communist

whispered to itself:

‘Nobody exists’ 

then falls dead

in the walls, floors bondage

of predation even the living will seem unreal

we will have to choose 

just how much unpleasantness 

we wish to create or conserve 

- if any excruciating suffocating wish

 hemlocked clung sweet to giddiness 

the hyperthymic steel link,

not a rivet, or euthymic 

winking at the brim 

travel to Switzerland to die

& the dying 

need not be sick 

little insects all screws bolted

curled black lids 

fading shells

bumps, kidney shaped abscesses

& the dead 227 figures 

meant for Linz 

Bundesblatt 77% underneath light filched 

to pale dapple-greys all but rain   

between buildings   

the masseuse chairs in Hauptbahnhof   

are actual police proxy codes wire to wire 

we must remember,   

doesn’t last long enough

memorised in amice song 

the cultus medicine paste    

trespassing in reuptakes 

some things as free   

through this alkaline garden

sterbetourismus the glass doors 

 cruelest irony in Zurich PLC 

a 104-year-old scientist 

of moderate renown & sound health 

ate cheesecake, listened to Beethoven

& then he died, final agent of death 

was intravenous dose of barbiturates 

dissolve, quite forget & cruelly 

lack no more.

Your biomarkers taken this 

whole thing to the extreme

Salmon sperm facials 

my quiet breath boughs, toured 

the midnight

i eat my Schweizer Pass with Cordon Bleu

vomited later

learned that I had acquired giardia 

I could not be recognised in German. 

‘sooner or later each of us is obliged, 

at least for a spell, 

to identify ourselves as citizens 

of that other place’

faery lands forlorn in place of doves, 

in the kingdom of the sick alpine sanatorias 

pull down, innovative treatments

for all kinds of malaise replace

where many things end 

instead deceiving a confederation

privacy self-determination 

to be free over the still stream 

not england keeps me

alive rendered by service 

destroying them for their belief 

 so burning how unwell we are 

we seemed to crackle with coldnesses,

broke from all windows

sacrificed desire quivered

many more times on the sickle of your neck

& The Working Class Goes to Heaven

in a sacro pod

every four minutes instead:

I’ve tried to become that person.

I am certainly the most biologically measured person ever.

 

tenderness & the hurrying shadows 

equal with penetrating beams 

both foreseen this,

upon a repentant knee

in fact, fairly miserably 

do I still wake or sleep? Montaigne’s quinsy

primum non nocere 

more latin words pls. in highgate bat caves

down to the palest twilights for pure well-being 

from our first faltering blueprints 

hovered was not to be seen 

like dividing by zero

that cures all but ends all 

stuttered fades sweat-bedewed 

Manifest Destiny 

rose up amidst the songs 

of fitness benefit

either way blow the scythe northward

in encephalisation of emotion 

voice ceased our genes desiringly white

earless less benign 

this time into the rostral shell 

photographs of lilies with funeral sympathy bouquets

Alex Karp’s mothers collaged motifs

in response to local racialised killings 

Name Gentle Asphyxiation, 

& pain the type you feel 

light karma sinking back pleasure-cells

sinking back asking what will have to starve miserably 

in the Genetics Of Paradise