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If God owned a gun it would be a water pistol filled with Nectar
Passage from The Scriptures According to The Survivor (revised 42nd edition)
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The exact nature of the binding was unknown to him but it was likely to involve time shifting and image distortion. He would never have agreed to be born into such a mess voluntarily
Excerpt from The Chronicles of the Man Who Confused Time
back turned
You use her, abuse her, love her fractional pattern, binary headroom insufficient, the laws ensuring, love is fractal in open space, pounding her flesh at dawn, bleeding, back turned.
Vaccine
Vaccine walking tall, addicted to the raw, raw fire soon burning bright; the sun kissed raw; raw scorching heat; Heather burning bright on slopes of uncertain bees; honey to be as bee to honey; honey loved me once; she was my last love
summer duvet
Epic fail, sleeping through the day, no daylight reaching my tired brain, no response to texting friends, just turning the other way, in bed. Cold left and cold right, summer duvet still covering, the silent man, wishing for more, though doubting God’s plan will ever come true.
mushroom cloud – I hate you
If you have the guts and
space to accommodate
I’ll take you to the peak, the
orgasm of your life, to shiver and
shake, rattle as the snake you
are. I’ll pull the pin, just before I
shove it up your holiest of
holy, I promise the ride will be in
glory, your juices flowing, with
death hovering; above.
recollections of the black country
sunday walk along canals
Birmingham’s finest dressing up
trouble free time – tho brief mind you
a problem real haunting me
sun down awaken fears
tethered streams of
barges mooring
no more freedom
only sorrow
burn witch burn
I’ll have a sarni, ta very much
and a cupper, a proper brew,
Yorkshire if you fancy, though
anything goes. We leave, we
exit, destination void, the pubs
our own so they will stay, the
bankers likely to hitch a ride,
go froggie most likely, though
Brussels beckons all. Show me
a chippy that will not remain,
after all sums are done and
the witch has burned.
rekindle the fire
Self-diagnosis is
undeniably the
way to go as
I should know
what is going on
within.
Embracing those
seeking gold to
kill my demons
the words used to
stir the pot
rekindle fires long
gone, lost.
Self-medication follows
obvious to those who
see that I am I and so
it shall forever be.
My choice is mine and
thus control remain
within.
rebirth
Girls’n’Boys
Boys’n’Girls
hands tied down – ripping
blending souls
turning slowly
reawakening
facing the physical
experience
once more