Silence

Sometimes when it's under cover quiet
in the lonesome peaceful night
when the newest scam's done shouting at our eyes and fried egg brains
and the beast's stopped propagating poisoned air
and the vans and yellow coats and blackened teeth are gone for now
For now
we can hear our own voices
maybe silent almost imperceptible
screaming and writhing to be free or fight or cry
from constant noise and daily trauma and why is everything dying or dead or outrageously preposterous rich
in the daylight safe sunlight
where compassion supposedly prospered

HOW THE OTHER HALF THINKS

THERE'S ACID IN THE AIR
it fuels our thirst                                    for economic bloodshed
                                                                                               unnatural psychotic thirst
or unbridled selfishness hahaha
normal

                                             Climb on top the pile
plunge ssssssssssssserated teeth
                                                                                    no cost no conscience
no toil no blood no desire no dreams
                                                                                                                          nothing but a waster
stroking your genitals hiding from this horrible shit you put angels through
strumming the bassline of fuck
                                                                                                                                                   you
stay in your prescribed                           places
                                                                                                        plastic chess people
stalematic bureaucratic pawns
    moving millimetres 
                 most lifetimes

Defense Rations

I'm addicted
                                                  to doing nothing
or flushing my life away into the plastic ocean                   to swim with cigarette ends
                                                                                                                                         and endless bottle caps
and a corked archipelago
stained the colour of ethanol blood
                                                                                  all the while telling myself                     that it'll work out
living your dreams in your imagination               
                                                                                                                                is ok
when it's as vivid as mine
                                                                                                                                                             or yours.

                                                                                   I once read
that Einstein worked 4 hours                                                                                            a day
                                                      and he was a frizzy geinus
        so why shouldn't that be true
of me                                                                                                                                                     or you
           i ask myself
                                                                                    though i know i know sure, i know
it's all conciliatory lies
                                           comforting shameful delusionary conciliatory lies
                                                                                                                                and yet it still remains
the rational defense of a lazy beanpole
                                                                 trapped for a quarter century
                                                                                                 in what if's and drowning imaginary possibilities
and christ       
                               what if you actually make it?

Fuck you

sip on my watermelon nectar
sit down and watch me
make a fool of myself
singing to JT you cringe while
I'm in my element element basic 00's element
you know you feel it
nodding your head in a secret ashamed guilty groove
my homeless hair swaying
prancing through the fairy air
as we sip gay gordons
through llama and cactus straws
sometimes you cry
and I cry too but we do it together
shut out the backwards falling backwards criminally insane indoctrination nuthouse world
pretend it's not there
for a moment
we exist in this outrageous space
multi-faceted as joseph's coat we pass
through
screaming haemorrhaging gacking fracking
deep the buried joy we'll find
love and joy and togetherness and not giving a shit
we'll know forevermore
because fuck you
depressive black beast always
we'll get you
and shove you deep up your own hollow vacuous rectum
never to return
motherfucker fuck you

Ode to YOU

There are millions of writers

who are better than me

wittier and more expressive than me

almost all of them

in fact

and many more

who should be poets

and don’t know it yet.


But

none of that matters

I love this shit

and one day

if just enough people

can feel me

and I’ve lived just slightly enough

to fill that bar of happiness

every single body seeks

I’ll die the gladdest of men

and hopefully too

will all of you.


Always love,

Your dearest degenerate