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Friday, 12 February 2021

Blood Orbital




Heart of tastemakers in vogue mound 

the Landlord artisans stand 

in some invented urban spring; You

eat chevrons of dried renters blood acute 

eco-piety plastique history maps poverty 

in epic skid marks of rubber,

a double headed city touching me now

in a waiting room tribunal muted mouthfuls of air 

pulled down in succession of heritage versions of history 

played in tumblers and dropped

like golden turds all bas-relief, 

until nature decides to have a laugh 

wipes it all out yt NPC head full of arrows 

glissando this morning nothing 

intimate is loitering in the waiting room

around perfect choirs of rosemary sprigs, 

loosely in this drooling age and other countries?


Thick with pall and wassail lichen messes 

of borage my unkept hair

nouveau riche cutting wind 

free of old star podsnappery

that can't swallow bone

to flaxen tail its equipoise is digit 

railing scenarios about weather 

after growth intelligentsia and its verticality 

from Margate to Aberystwyth 

Penzance to Aberdeen every skin 

lech merciful to our senior partners, 

landed jauntily the pure and impure 

white head has been disturbed 

and the ruling towers of 

'we only need to be lucky once' image macro  

infields a profound caesura in my heart 

came too late and mimics the mires 

we have Dulwich wet bedroom re-enactments 

and the unchanging personnel of this class

war sicked to find the cutting instrument 

bedded in 72 habitable floors

managing a depressed apex of 

tribal rites spraying 

au fond terra incognita .

My trackiebums in fens 

wiping off at the walls of diadem floodlights 

a social totality lies outside

the White cliffs over Dover, 

bones ERG and druids say 

non legitur christen old born

in fleet ditches 


a dodo skeleton waiting room

blood winning ill itch 

courier webs thermal herding

on a magic roundabout 

dusk breaks shivered and skived


Reckful's Final Moments on Twitch





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 twitching.


 I lay down and  equipment rends on in my absence

an image vanguard in soft 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


Dear Peter John

 



Inside of eaten rent, milquetoast 

the corners of black mould gently 

scouring loaned iron skillets 

or a life non-scarce cosied 

and out to lunch hasten 

the dock-less night leave me 

in one of the many Royal Parks

surrounded by swan meat inedible

coughed up tributaries to a palisade care 

from bromides the jobless

giblet of gravy of our species the harder 

you shake the pack the harder  

a FF175BP fridge-freezer makes sense, 

on a Sirius rising to singing polymer 

foils its cavity barrier  

crowns civis of pulped Celotex

and the omnibus pudding boils for hours

unattended so stay put rend this dotage,

your fault of sweet whips ding-dong 

a fine divide in net curtains 

or neighbouring skyline of cutpurses 

snapped up in sub tenure 

I go down to the regeneration department

on a countless heartbeat, fingering 

the cool infirmary of municipal socialism, 

faked patronage broken 

my angiograms in rescue effort and watch

the slenderest margins drop

flake on soaring orphans 

with a council tendency support grant 

I am catapulted to the event horizon,

Dear Peter John, A Year in Provence 

on winter oranges swilling 

blood snaps on a pawnbrokers bough 

LTD inflated Roman Law it gets milage 

as A.D chums blow donee the lot

lost in outtage the midnight flicks 

cannot bless me an echo chamber still 

so doors locked quick in eviction time 

Apostle Peter John, O.B.E 

I was the man injecting drugs into his penis 

and it will happen again 

in nuclear light gangland spired 

spare music deep in a bounty corpora

for tillage of Get Living 

everything looks great again

Monday, 8 February 2021

Goodnight Pet (DRAFT)

 



Ogham no escutcheon
Rome Ruled the skyline
refracted in a bough of drink
the cassock under dominion 
awaiting knight’s armour'd sac: 
a swooning sideline of red faces 
untouched heart of moss 

lichen starch & mock Tudor coda

very little Celtic blood left over

in this appanage of carraigĂ­n 

urine inside the Rose 

Planter and the Gael suppose

i am your heart-to-heart pricked ​on ​
like a Pinhead in the wasteland 
sent pall and spoiling back
for a fight laying in their wool milk
suppose for hours et mon droit 
cruciform on damp sand
sold outside church gates 
commemorative not symbolic
more magnificence brought low, 
and that’s why I used Ripolin!
lustre to yr murder before Gods
sectarianism over an open fire 
all blood passes under guardianship 
langued ramrod to your peace 
lined home or
rule rubble barricade
worthy of being held 
in its signal of kindling flame 
or shot in the face? 
O bending verge God is my right 
to stick on lilies and blow a 10 foot 
hole in London Stock Exchange 
today the British spirit surges 
10-points in share prices
w/ painted buckler and plumy chests 
porpoise oil the trading floor traffic 
& environmental zone bolts 
the door inn powerhouse 
spoils upper vest raining masonry 
and glass on Iveco Ford Cargo 
to the table heavy with song 
the venerable 
memorial pale bent shape 
of natural need, hunger can be gelignite 
or 'in disgust and its opposite 
is reflected the whole of history' 
a surcoat of white silk 
mantle lined with red

thats yr appanage handful of little rock

to their coronet of pectins water stock 

spite handshakes & cured claps 

within a lumen scratched on off

mucosa or vomiting in the Roman Fashion

bursting something like

in your chest imagine 

resisting an ulcer of scarlet 

livery to rend 

tomorrow breaks in via the garden fen- 

ce 




Sunday, 31 January 2021

gamma squeeze (draft)



Sweepstake the browser
burning powderhouses a
short squeeze on the confederations
of pricing recherchĂ© 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