By your feet;
My nympho Calypso,
On the orange shores
Of my Odyssean delay
For seven years detained & deranged The charred remains of my many disguises Blatantly arrange.
B
Place of solace in solstice,
Dungeon of the bride’s night fire,
As delicacies of the sensuous tomb
Lacking the imperfection of loud-guilt
We lend our growing changes, to your secret quivering womb.
C
Having begun the conquest of air
And having to be the first to rise from the earth, Is to be the last and only Glorious Flyer.
To add life, is to add death.
To subtract life, is to add legend.
To make valuable excursions, is to taste the world’s benefit.
And in the Lost City, the Lost Child Offers a prayer:
When,
When will the swan-winged-snow ever cover this Aurum heat, my Eucharist Trip
&
When,
When will the abyss of pain ever look with soft eyes Again.
Never, never,
As forever
The sun has run aground
Lost deep in the Devil’s prison cell, A place of sweet disorder
And unfathomable hell.
The explosion of spirit into time Turns round
And all within it
Into space and its bottomless well.
Walking in a daze,
I,
a sentimentalist or just a sensualist,
have found myself back in my famed region of raze.
Pioneer to some contested-battle
which holds meaning only to myself,
I stand unflinchingly, like a gazed upon creature
with lordly silence & a brilliant head.
(2)
Wasted & wrestling
the Pharaoh’s gem:
a slow pain,
no,
a loss,
carries my soul over to them:
Incapacitated against my will
like a rape drug victim,
with pen at the fireside
they grab my paw
& make me write-up my new moral & my new law:
Freedom & power & worldly happiness in exchange for my ripped heart, and the peace of
that majestic moment:
& so for all of this without
strength & sight, in their hands, I sign the word YES.
Now don’t ask me why, but to do & die,
to live the living lie, that is what holds
this man to the
drunk rank of poet
- a pale battle lion writing its
blood out,
restoring
its veins
with drugs & wine.
An unseated eagle in the struck match of height, I repair the injured sky
ORACLE INCENSE - BIG BASTARDS TAME TRUTH INTO FICTION
More than God,
grows the emotions of a nation in me
TOO MUCH SAID - SO LITTLE REMEMBERED
Memories pass off into gutters, giving way to dream
GATHER ALL
We in a strange land lie in breathing tents, which in the wind exhaust
WARM SOCKET VISIONS
Everybody stares,
finding the sin they never knew
HORIZON PLOSION
There’s freedom on your heels,
jump and you’ll see
The broken glass that kept the sun, moving us to the crackling sea
IT NEVER RAINS WHERE WE SHINE TWO
Free at last my soul relaxes in publication, to reside in the words and mouths of the hungry. Starve no more for I will fill bellies and minds alike
THE WORN PAGE - THE PEN OF RAGING BLOODSacred criminals sympathize all the better when miserable with wine to dine their sorrow ...
BRAGGING VULTURES ...
These young men are from an ...
AMAZON STAR - HOW GREAT AND POETIC WE ARE
Lesson: The Lion with the beehive in its belly sleeps and is forever forgotten, but the Green Lion who devours the sun, is remembered and the gold it shits out is forever worshipped.
WHERE EVER YOU GO - THERE YOU AREIt is not the prayer that counts it is the practice, It is the stance when one bears a walk on the extreme, It is to court destiny and to abort the fear of death, It is to live it!
LIFE IS A DARK ODE OF ROADS AND BORROWED TURN OFFSDarkened glasses Mournful eyes
Dodging these Hallowed rays
I cruise the pavement with a large portion of fries:
BAT-WING WICKED THE SHADOWS COME
Straining to pinpoint the feeling, but you can’t, as it really isn’t there
LUCKY LUKE SINGS TRIBUTE TO EVERYTHING
Teenage trippers, Ravers and
Paranoid merchants, Deep dark druggies, Supermen,
Artists and loving for
CANDY-FLIPS & RIZZLA SHIPS
Headlands of grace &
stillness
Pray-bird in parking-lot confessional ...
I AM YOUR HALO OF WET LATEX - SEX SEX SEX
I put marsupial money on the tough cookie with the bruised eyelashes and the fist sized jar
HOT-HOLSTERED BODY
Decoration of interest: Undressing prostitute to
girlfriend
SUPPORT FOR A PUSSY
Purrin’ puddin’
& phosphorous eyes; I love a wet panty
LEMON JUICE AND TABASCO SAUCE - BABY YOU GOT IT HUNGRY
My taxidermist eye fixed to the trademark price tag, on spicy pricey girlie-girls, the only 7th heaven to be found in this hell on earth, in these famous formidable times, when we so easily can be crushed-out like rebel ciggies, at any given time; so fuck a stranger & embrace the warm imminent danger, that we are running out of excuses, to ignore, God ...
SO COME ON BABY OIL THIS TRAVELLERS PRICK BUTTERCUP CUNTS AND LA-LA NIPPLESLove me like the heathen of city streets that l am, make me forget why I am a fool ...
AND GRIND PRECIOUS MEAT
FIVE
The tears piss from the pores in my eyelids ...
CLEANSING OF MY EYES OR TOXINS FROM MY BRAIN ...
Bladder brain you may say - he is nothing but a pisser ...
BUT I KNOW PAIN & IT RUNS YELLOWER THAN ACID RAIN Pen and
paper
stop the shivers
Yellow Tablet Syd
Groovy Hair
Lollipop Addict
Mexican Shirt
As High As A Whore
& As Cool As White Sneakers
John Travolta with a ravolta
BLOWING MENS MINDS
Time sure flies when you’re jerking off
THE TORN TRIP - THE THROWN PIT ...
The beetle sadness of Hitler Acid drunk in a Waikiki shirt
MOIRE PSYCHEDELICS
Cobain head mince on a poster ...
SUCKING FOR PHLEGM IN THE LOADED GROIN BLOOD-SHOT URGENT SOUL
Bang!
KODAK DARKNESS
SIX
SEVEN
After-shave shots on a clean razor of thought
TIMES ARE CHANGING MAGGOT
Outpost:
LUBRICATE THE SYSTEM WITH MIND-ALTERING DRUGS
Us as eye-strong as Chinese marksmen
ERROR AND SPARK OF VARIETY: Life is known but to a few, for we grow only by the things wrong, which we thought we knew
CONTRADICTION IN STEADY INNOVATION IS COOLING HEADS IN HOODS ...He is sprinting the smoking woods ...
THE MARVELLOUS APOSTLE:
We need a vice of over-assured knowledge; one that seeks death yet is the originator of life. We need a start ...
WE NEED TO FIND OURSELVES BACK IN THE BEGINNING
THE END
Fun is the sacred light for all.
Errorist knowledge: solo satisfaction.
The gods love a young dying.
a stranger, in this
land of friends.
The road without repair, is a road of genius and lofty cruelty, a philosophy of vice stemming from pitiless observation. And within the brutish head the thoroughbred muscle pumps out the great road - the divine oblivion of total madness - that moonpoetic madness - the suffering temperament from which genius does its best work - this is what it means to be a pilgrimage for all those who love the Trip and who’ll sacrifice themselves for the destination.
Let us now intervene into the heart of the Big Bang, tamed into a dream:II
Every little progress is the freedom from fear -
III
The memory of the Fuck Queen. Her knowing eyes glazed with alcohol as we went into a toilet booth - her meaty mountainous calves around my waist - her well armoured back against the toilet door - her orchid in ecstasy gored by my bulls tendon. Such beautiful fuck-play - our act of lust a mimed death-scene, in which each steals the life of the other.
IVDare to know
V
We swim
in clear-sighted trances
dancing & popping & pilling & blazing weed, snorting & drinking & gushing down water enjoying ourselves
& our human companions.
Every generation has its superior distraction; a full engagement of the psyche and for it, music has always provided the needed sound, for deeds to be done to.
The Soundtrack is King The Beat Detonates & Kicks the Shit
The Soundtrack is King The Rhythm Protracts & the Plasma Soul Reacts
The Soundtrack is King.VII
Cushioned in sedative comforts, relax your mind and the missing fact will find its way back to you.
PART TWO
I
To be studied historically, this life in present is beautiful, but all what the photographs and words will only reveal, is that it was here:
To die is to sigh an immortal relief
To live is to give life your belief
To love is to look to the world,
Behind the sky, where sits Chief Rising Sun Together with his high-ranking warrior, The Thief. II
This dusty body
has led a multitude
over itself, to get back to the innocence lost.
All the drugs
& sex
& drink
can never put me back together again.
A lover
a prisoner
of Somnolent Realm, I span decades,
from the cavalcade
of love to the
quintessential black heart.
And I have loved both The chaste woman
and the stinking slut,
but I have loved
nobody so much as I have loved you,
my bloodless rancid foe.
I am in my own hands now, God does not know what to do with me and has forgiven me for being blind
I am in my own hand now,
the pen & ink a blinding circumference, As I trip devour.
Ill
IV
I, a Sun Bird in deep thought, In the cockpit of my
Rolls-Royce Merlin Brain, Desire nothing more
Than nothing,
To disturb my
Drunken Raft,
In my cage appraisal
Of Tigerdom.
PART THREE
I
What is night for others, is day for the one who sees.
I am the Rebel, who cast the first stone.
I am the howling demon, whose actions are witchcraft. I am the wicked and the most human.
And on a chess-board-atlas
Men carved out of stone
They change the world
And sometimes die trying,
Embalmed in photographs & worshipped as Icons.
I cannot say
When your life became mine, But I lived it All the same;
I dared to listen
To the tell-tell heart And live out the
Wrangling tale
Of new bewilderment
Lost from my own senses,
I felt you more deeply.
Lost from Jesus,
I dowsed my own will & flicked the switch:
And running
Through the pyrotechnics, That is the
Boom in the blood
Of the poet’s southern trail, I am lifted with rich new cause, Wishful and in full sight
Of the
Liquid cool distillery
Of night.
A man devoured
By his own dream,
I quest for
An authentic existence Of true selfhood,
In this alienation
this estrangement, Hit by the inscription from The Dark Side:
Our rising is inseparable From our falling.
I
The colours of free-sex wash off, but paint great pictures for the mind to later exhibit.
The swelling heart; the curdling testicle; the sigh; the squeeze; the nauseous penis ready to gut and the heady vagina ready to choke up, all cope to build the finest of roads to gallop & brush-in the animal-ritual-flesh, with a tantra-erotic-mantra.
IIAnother Big Night Out:
The wicked-sherbet numbing my throat like powder-burns on a gunfighters soul.
The phosphorous eyes Lining the public domain Like a cat-road
Sneering out territorial looks
& then there she was,
her hair like fat fuel
billowing out curls of orange, burning there for me
to see myself
through her fire.
Ahmad was his name an Egyptian
friend for the night,
he took the both of us me & my new found love back to his place.
I talked the whole night into the morning with him, while she slept with her head on my chest.
Seeing that we needed to be alone together, he gave up his bed for me
& her.
I fucked her,
she fucked me hard, we slept warm.
The next day
we left Ahmad in a long greeting of good-bye.
I followed her the
whole day in
my deadhead scenario of a come-down,
I kissed her on her mouth
& she took-off;
away. PART FIVE (Dedication To A Great Lover)
I
You are the face of God
& your body a lustrous gem
is my slow, straddling, night sky harem.
You are a poem written by God & when you move you cause my heart to murmur & my mouth to thirst for you.
IISensual without sin,
A creature of instinct
You arrange you hair,
Your polished curves of flesh An ideal beauty divorced From mortal context.
A plum of monumental decoration, Opulent as only deep lovemaking Can be, you allow me to feel As if I were at the end
Of my life:
Feeling the beautiful stain of your Dark serious heart, cloud & Impassion my own.
THE ENDAnd the drug
A reassuring disease, it sloth’s over my
body, the compounds of the motorized pill purring nine lives and a confident boredom into my soul.
In foreign drip-echoing sub-corridors,
the so-called no-man’s-land of the starving night, I gain access to my dark-side
& begin to feel a dementia cocktail of
anger & a calculating hatred by osmosis seep, from a deep dark drop in my heart,
to my ever-thinking mind.
To feel ones own change, is to know the pain paid-off.
To be shocked by ones own actions,
Is a thrilling thing.
THIRD PART
‘No entry has a return & no one seeks the light by that which they find through gates that burn.’
Far from touch
In a desert as emptying this, It is not so much of a sweat But the flight of time
Through mummified bliss, In a blue mirage that is Dripping wet.
My skin sips the sun &
My blood sips the wine But most of all
From this scenery
That does make me rise, Is the unforgettable
Beauty that dies.
Age 17: the journey with the poet, turned the child into a man
Age 17: the sunny sin with
drugs and drink, took the man back to
the child when ever
he needed to meet
the poet & experimenter of blood and delicacy.
Age-old story: angry young man takes all down in his path - eating up the road and its cargo, on a crazed crusade that has only one end in sight: final peace. FIFTH PART
Hanging around
the trance & dance rooms of today,
where broken knowledge & idle chit-chat is rife, I wonder
& find out very easily by what’s up & goin’ on that God is still dead,
but His soul
lives on
through love & the lasting beauty
in this world
that He left behind.
Bring me to the ships edge And let me drink to the fishes
Sweet ponder
The message from the
Sun Emperor over and out
Land of the open sky I am coming
HOME.
He lit his inspiration & spat down his beer
THE HONESTY TOUGH - THE LIES IMPROVED
Motive of torture cancels out the reality felt
HIS MIND RAZOR-BACKED - HIS VULGARITY A WORSHIP IN ITS HEIGHT
His many tournaments with fellow journeymen, an infinite gesture of trophy hunting
READER OF THE PLANETS
In strange eviction filling everyone with shaken head clarity, he is the diagram of a ...
NEW FORMULA ...
Adding experience to the immature voice of excitement
ROARRR!
B
Private pictures:
BLOW DRIED PANTY HAIR OR RED SHAVE MARKS: AN ITCHY CLOUD OF BERRIES
Smell the dip - eat out
PERVERT MOUSTACHE - HEAVY TONGUE
Work that clit boy, suck it like a toffee & let that fuckin’ idiot girl scream out hyperventilating flesh-eating mumbo-jumbo taunts, pining for your sweet cock to pull in & rinse her stumpclever ugly-valve & mash it up - mash it up, brainless
LIPSTICK SMOOTH - ORGASM SWEETUpholstery body - good enough for a slouch, with an itchy fireball of pure white-hot godsend
PINK IMITATION LEATHER
Perfect fuck material!
C
The girl’s saliva on your lips ...
SMELL IT
Student perfume
SHE’S EMBARRASSED
Your kissing making her hot little palpitating pussy wet
GIRL THE BOY SURE KNOWS THE PARK - ALWAYS SIZERIGHT AT HOME - SHOVE IT IN THERE
And press her break glass to sound out ...
RED VIRGIN FIRE BELLS
In love:
SHE HAS THE LOOK OF FUCK IN HER EYES
Saxophone speaks to trumpet ...
IN MOUTHFULS OF WET HEAT BLUES
Take a straw & slurp the love off her brow AND MAKE HER KNOW YOU MEAN TO TOUCH HER THOUGHTS
Your song sending shivers through her new bodyRECALL:
A foetus-poet as a young as a grazed knee
YOU WERE JUST 15 AND A POET WITH AN AXE ONLY 17
Our children were you & I all over again. THE END
Impaled on a juggernaut fence, I hang like a scarecrow in the setting sun’s immense, while the sower over my left shoulder, feeds to the mocking birds on a distant field, the seeds of my last & only defence.
Every minor detail is the birth of the atom & every atom controlled is the heat wave of ignition.The abnormal road is a casino; risked at every green table.
Life runs from a girl on fire, wanting to be put out of her misery, to bring you down to earth & make you see, her poor human desire; if only she knew that to walk with the gods, is really what searchers do & die-hards
Those soap stone wings, from a washed up angel, jettisoned onto this shore of ours, I came across on my long patrol hours, of the night & the day.
Oh isn’t it a cryin