Nadine

Cheeks flushed,
head's rushed.
Lips hot,
forget me not.
Eyes hidden,
orgasm's a given.

Twenty-Fourth

Art feedback,
creatively stuck,
a Scrubs episode that didn't suck.

Not much sleep,
channay nuts,
girls that like to be called sluts.

A stunning storm,
a power cut,
quite a day for Mr. Butt!

Fun with Philosophy!

Descartes and Spinoza fucked your mum,
they took her cunt and took her bum.
Descartes loved the difference, or so he proclaimed,
but Spinoza said they felt pretty much the same.

Nietzsche thinks we're selfish pricks,
Derrida thinks we're brainwashed hicks.
Foucault believed a bit of both,
Russell pondered linguistic growth.

Wittgenstein, Wittgenstein,
a man with an incredible mind.
He spoke on everything he could,
but hated himself and thought we should...

The Brave Little Idealist

what is mind? doesn't matter
what is matter? never mind

Walking cheerfully down Park Lane
on a Monday morning with no sight of rain,
is a brave little Idealist on his way
to the fair in Hyde Park where his band is to play.
'Today is truly marvellous, this I do declare!'
said the brave little Idealist on his way to the fair.

He passed The Dorchester Hotel
at seven o' clock and all was well,
he crosses the road until he saw
an Indian Elephant asking for more.
'Why the devil is there an Elephant sitting over there?'
asked the brave little Idealist on his way to the fair.

Arriving at the park gates he got a shock
caused by the emo girls that did not rock,
but the biggest surprise was yet to come
because these girls were boys with makeup done.
'I doubt you are real, but is it rude for me to stare?'
asked the brave little Idealist on his way to the fair.

As he stepped on the grassy ground
he heard quite a frightening sound,
turning around he saw a vicious stampede
of Indian Elephants, but he did not concede!
'Not one of you exists, this I do declare!'
said the brave little Idealist on his way to the fair.

This is for all the women I ever knew (except perhaps those one or two)

This is for all the women I ever knew,
except perhaps those one or two,
who I think of as sisters, and cousins too,
but the rest? I'd really like to screw,
because you're all so god damn pretty.

I won't mention the girls I don't mean,
because that could cause an ugly scene,
with the ones left out, who'll kick and scream,
but if you're a 'sister' then you'll know it anyway.

Of course I'm not including family,
they're immediately left right next to me,
with judging faces they stare you see,
and expect me to be a chaste Muslim boy.

But I just wanna rock and roll,
with fast women who got lots of soul,
and awesome eyes with hips to hold,
'coz I'm gettin' tired of all this freakin' solitude.

I wish I could write you a rhyme so fine,
that somewhere way on down the line,
would make you wanna blow my mind,
with hot sex followed by coffee and cigarettes.

Please don't think I want a relationship,
I just want you to suck my dick,
and let me penetrate those hips,
coz that looks like it could be a good time.

I'm not sayin' you're not a great friend,
the fact is I wanna know you 'til the end,
but I'd like it if you could stretch and bend,
your moral code and fuck me just the once.

I hope you don't take this too seriously,
because you see, it's six twenty three,
and I woke up a fucking hour ago,
with morning glory and a lonely soul...
well that explains it all, don't it?

16 year old girls on myspace!

Who is this strange
maiden? Who is she?
Fake flaming hair and
eyes like faded marble;
the cracks are part
of the perfection.

Exhale, watch the cancer dance,
watch it bob and weave before
your eyes. Death is beautiful, or
you're stuck in an addicted trance.

But persevere, brave soldier!
Fight on! She is worth the
effort, worth the stress and
unsightly blisters. She'll give
you all that you desire; good
company, unlimited wishes,
second-hand cancer and
butterfly kisses.

M

I wish I knew just what to say;
with the literary skills
to make pain go away.

I had a list, a
little list of big
words; big big
words saying
small small
things - like
summer dew
and the joy it
brings.
A starling
sits, it sits and
sings: advice
and ideas roll
off its wings.

But you've heard it all before.

Pain and Love are
the same mistress;
one is dressed for
evening supper at
the manor, the other
for a night of filthy
debauchery at a
remote hotel.

It's all how you look at it.

What to do? What to do?
Won't someone tell me what to do?

I wish I could
I wish I could
I wish

<3

You say you need
to be fixed, but I like
you broken - I think
you do too, think about that...

Porcelain

Passion engulfs me in her presence;
Porcelain Goddess; perfect china
doll - won't let me play with you?
Won't you let me play?

You capture the genius of men
beyond my scope - but would you
descend and attempt to immortalise
my fragmented mastery?

Idealisation puts us on a beach
with a kiss and wanting more -
Reality puts us fucking like dogs
on a seedy motel floor.

To dance, perchance, I'm in a
trace. A lingering kiss, a
warm embrace, your silken
lips, that angelic face.

Beautiful.

I am

I am everybody

I am all the men who can't get a girl,
and yet the only one around. I am
all the women who loathe their
self-image, and are fixated with
the ground, the sound, the pound
of searing flesh that drips slowly
from my body and is cooked to
a state of cremation in the pan:
I am a man

I am somebody

I am the twisted reflection of
Narcissus. I am the lost spirit
of Odysseus, trapped and
bound to Ithaca - I am dancing
beneath the light of dawn
still shrouded in perpetual
darkness.

I am nobody

I am a series of neverending
questions. I am a dreamer
with limitless power, and
yet I am conscious for
every hour.

I am
I am
I am