Aphorising

It was a hollow room with
just a few pieces. Interactive
pieces. I suppose the idea was
that we create our own art.
I liked that. Turning the mirror
outward; a collective self-reference.


I plot the satanist revolution
whilst hurling copies of
the Tao off the roof of
King's College. Elphistone
Hall seems a million
miles away now - clattering
along England's uneventful
buttocks in the western
night, in a long tube -
This is practically sodomy;
fitting, then, that I'm
coming from Brighton.


Chino XL distracts the mind
and makes poetry not good.


Dry white whine. In quadruplicate.
Seduction is practically a business.
Gotta make a profit; although
I was only in business
by accident; a case of
misrepresentation.


What is art? Is it a bunch
of lines on a page because
the hand cannot keep pace
with the moving image? Or
is art something metaphysical?
A notion, perhaps.


There's a girl on this carriage
who's gonna be gorgeous when
she gets older. If I was a
modelling agent I could
'discover' her. But what
the hell IS that anyway?


You twat.


When the sapphire lion
crushes the golden cannon
the rest of us lose hope.
Nature defeating weaponry
is nice, though. And those
fucking peacocks got a
taste of their own medicine
in the Orient.


Machine Gun, tearin' my,
body all apart.
The way shoulda been
over two years ago;
but this is just the start.


Sundraped clouds slither
over the heavens and
we'd like to call it
afternoon.
All our flowers are in bloom,
too soon.


We want eternity, cry out
for its neon claws - wait -
we got confused somewhere
down the line; someone turned
the arrow around.


Pakipakipakipaki


I am a great lover of words;
I shall write more on this
later.

Two Faces

Broken shafts of sunlight
penetrate eternal clouds;
God fucks the Earth.
Cosmic Love.

Crippling decay as bricks
crumble in our homes;
Man fucks the Earth.
Confined Rape.

How Depressing

Have you ever considered the rule
of the masses? - It's usually
'every man for himself' which is
odd. At crisis point, most of mankind
reverts to a Hobbesian State of
Nature; there's none of the altruism
present when everything's fine
and dandy. It's dog-eat-dog.

I think that says so much about
our false pretence of love for
others. It could well be that it
does in fact come down to
fear of one's neighbour.

How depressing.