Little shadow
         harked madam

a bird who wears her wings
only as wardrobe
  (though she dreams
   in fits
of infantasy)

  dusty in her bedroom
in trust to her headspace
      an attic dweller

    home school tutored
a burden to her wellspring
   and buried to her title

                      averted
         feet behind the curtain
little shadow
         with the unclaimed
the name of
            Elizabeth

               **

         A foe in the night
an aviary of the berserk :
          vocal nicker
and disputes at high frenzy
  lend from her garret

uneasy on the household
coughing up all of the family
  cussing from their berths

the awoken
shamble and mumble in the hallway
  move in a broken thread up to her attic
   they’ll crack open her privacy
     and find her fast out on the bedding

you can’t spell that to her ghost
        in Elizabeth’s sleep
    it’s sprung from its host

a living haunting
a messed up devotion
  expresses itself on the family
   enforces itself emotionally

the hallways are trailed
    with dried flowers
   and stinging nettles

don’t tread the halls at night
without a pair of slippers

sense heavy
  i plough at the day slurred
  pushing putty steps
aching and unfocused
  going about chores
  tackling things ...like...
...have i been delivered head trauma?

unbearable attention is drawn by my visible condition
pain inducing communications are fired at me
inquiry that i bat at and parry pathetic

Can I lumber onward
nauseated i
and be
in anyway productive ?
muscular suffering
this astronaut
this deep sea explorer
is
receiving a poor mix of gases

valve

passive

life feeds me medicine
suggests merit
and provides mirth, malady and misery
i graze accordingly
a simpering recruit to habit
life is precious pump and mental squeeze
precarious unravels of daring
a mad staring competition
at some hypnotic curl
and i am foetal at rest


aggressive

(spicy obnoxious moody life-
          -balled up around lunatic pull-
     -an overindulged sick stomach-
-a rag birth gift held onto-
    -a clutch of halted development)
Oh, Life ! such a brat
***** you & your horror of sacrifices
in the name of exploration
it's all just *****
and fluorescent
and shy of goal

Composed of informal struggles
an unlovely creature
is in his cups
Sat comic
in Kitchen
Widening
in Home
Gathering
multiplying poverty
to perish
achieve tragic
See the hours play out of life
A vast account of no fun
Numbers.

pleasant-to-be duney minded    sediments of mood-blooming    yet to calcify          light wind and arbor    harbour from record heats          meat fed steaming sun    looming life    bawling upon the venue    hosted with joshing glee    but experimenting with confused bratty states          mottled and strobed    in the brushed shade          for now    a stood peace

clue time   game of bluff-man blind   fuss of obstacles scold up my mind -(the-vermin-are-quite-rife) / portrait, ambitious portrait   racing a train - broadsword toward - a fertile pocket of prissy death ;/ crown, fist and sprawl in the court of The Charmers   sole hissy-fit upon your knees

I don't understand violence
In the moment it does not come to hand
I do feel violence
I fantasise violence
I fever my brain with panting anger
But
It's a testing station within a fiction
My practices trace other patterns
And these aggressive thoughts are just obstacles
Yet
I pray host
And I know that
I truly am
A violent man

                                - Mr. Sands

cruelty was intent
bent only to effect harm
pep up in power
purely
as the action of a child

cost

When the crime is right
      & the devil wet
             the nocturnal forrest is a skin
                     and ceremony thin dreams broach reason
            they poach me with a caustic blooded rash
approaching as nippy darts  ; visions of shard and coil
a metallic eggy rot
                           and pan to the darkness
                                                     snapping electric

        irregular from that darkness
spaces between the trees comb
                      form a hyper hectic wealth of flushes
a blush burst discharges in the body
           booming pulse
          blooming rabidly
salivating to a ******* savagery
a nature to express
       forecast
             within permeable forrest

i have energy amazed limbs
             daring a dance
                       screamin' hole The Frenzy
             dog-shaking the head
legs flung and planted
crushing ferns
             this hefty simian sway
                      a broadcast challenge
             invitation
           a power coward
commanding a matching of kinds
                       excitation
       no longer to be foetal and cowed
             an aching unmend amended
a call is placed
the spell is rendered
    
                                 - resonate

The body dies :
A crumpling
not an implosion
as I turn inward
on my own corpse
In a desperate gasp
for sustenance and revival
The result ? :
A flourish!...
but, then, a puff
deflation
The Surround caves me
collects arrears upon my vehicle
I am to make no feast
the body is the process

my untackled thoughts
quake miniature dramatics ;
cramming for the light
having fits for my attention

through each
I am irresponsibly born
and then hastily killed...
it is a wasteful process

from now on
I shall label them
as they surface
I shall call them Petty Mort
both a joke at their expense
and a simple dismissal

with this manner
I shall practice trimming them
from my chosen daily effort

life fends its ache in a solid state of lumber
stretches grouted brawn
and sets its stresses on duty

gaseous pollution meets the daylight
a warming flatulence of the productivity byproduct
labour

orb
parching an arc over the brow
and easing an erase into the eve

then to
the night solution
a fluid of festivity
*** excite in arts and the conduct
a canvas of tincture
to suspend our culture
                        in-bedded

the witching hour is only a blink
a jiff and a wink
a humour in the plasma state
break
the process is reignited
and for that brief movement
cleaned out of heads
we are simple
guided

we kip through all the ****** on the news
i left the device on a radio channal
  awoke to it burning up static and turned it off

silence as falcon overviews us
ultraviolet sight
  looking for neon spots and trails of *****
            markings that may betray the entrance of our dwelling

i put the kettle on

our voices are clayed
            by our
   confessing inner multitude
but they're recorded all the same

i pour a cup of tea

our pattern of submission
        is signal tweaked
maintainance by murmers
****** thorough
        through our glacial surrender

i take a sip

silence as
aided by the clear weather
   a drone nips out its choice targets

we were not selected
neither us or any neighbour
but far away ;
a story heard on the device

pipe cleaner tree rat
are you prepared for Winter ?
first snow touches ground

the rise of your chest  bellows and rest
the eyes of your investment   in me
the falling mane we form together
drapes
                                   into our milly pool
                              into our night attacks
     we act out civil villainy  and pranks
   we didn't mean to  but  we were spilt

   all the gutted sources of our majesty
bedroom headquarters and missions
   abroad from there  lead them to stare
our belly can hold all the resulting
                        birds of yellow vulgarity

they come to our door
                    with glowing phones raised
and we answer
         leaking behind our death-masks
they've chosen
                      to take us far too seriously
and may strike us down
                                             anti martyred
          alabaster heretics
                                laughing

With a raffling breath
I sate death neatly
I am now in trust
Dead
And being played into new life
There's a swelling of new strifes
and wavings from within
Heats of organisms
Worlds accelerating
Pulsion
Gases waste and gases invitations
take place where I have been
A celebration
A bedding
If only The Humans would leave
the 'Dead Body' be
Just when I am finally achieved
They make a bother
I'll make out a doner card
No, a placard
"No Preservation Upon Death !
Corpse Rights Remain !"

i greet new love
i want to classify her...
this day is a flushing
a wash
sky in nutrients and vented
i blaze a way across an unhandled lot
i stalk the train tracks
and envision the ghouls making interest
regarding my process
from the spaces
in the frown of stumble down buildings

i feel sing-song
and full of wing
i am alive
as are the crickets
i am alive
as is the detritus
its all vital
a clan and not a mangle
a form of battle
but with gentle politness
a grace of progress
occasionally
a sightless grapple
plenty

what mind has eye to garden
          in a field of headrests ?
pulling up the tough weeds
          that manage off embalmers fluid
repainting plastic flowers for strangers families
reciting engraved names that amuse
          such as Clutterbuck and Storm Boyle
warden the valve
          that values the last breath
spike the ground with snorkels
           and thicken the atmosphere
           with mans garbage gases
what relief the earth would feel
           deflated of our bizarre bedding...
could we light them
           like the flames of factories ?

rain drained down
upon us cold
paraded away our labours
pegged at out bare backs
and showboated us all
as temporary
reactive
and lacking in good humour

no bleak
      no gravel
            no granary

flushed upward         flossed through the cloud
proud       of our colourful obituary
but there's nothing to hold us here
fear nothing wary
     no feline attention
           no canary to fulfil the coal mine
just the foggy cotton of perspiration       and no cling
so we are benign      to respond
  rung to sense
     to physics
    to every-mans gravity

no grieve
      no manner
            no calamity

just plummet
       and wind sore
              and sun-bleached torn clothing
                      and dread of developing horrors
                    perhaps collision    with unwanted human company
               no paid way into outer space
        jest descent

you flounder for memories
         to flutter before eyes
              instead    you are battered by collage
an old video game console the cat peed on
     clips you    fragrant between the eyes
a set of your golf clubs in their bag
         winds you     hugging in the gut
             (did you ever play golf ?)
so much more product     and then the car
      Jeep Grand Cherokee     colour burgundy
          draws level
             doors hung open   to the yap of history
grateful and familiar       you take to its back seat
  pull over a tarp     and sleep
     but its all crushed apart
and you face again
                          the plunge

turning corpses of hills below
  the quaking landscape bellows "NO!"
       and patches of spikey urban ventilation
                all gush to volunteer you
                     ***** toward your voice
                          that's screams also 'No!'
                              but realize
                                 the voice
                                    of the
                                    earth
                      ­            screams rowdier
                             and on a weeping in-breath
                                                              to­ replenish

you conduct winds about the room
    whipping decor and geisting destruction
breaking into a tempest tantrum and fume
    you use up the air in aggressive combustion
    foam breath, thunderous in gloom
and then its pulled-over, you've attained exhaustion
    you need a hug, a glass of water, tears drench
      it hurts barrenly and then a healing quench

fermentation permeates
thumbs its holes
perforates     the surface
    in her turning state

                 +++

her aged clammy skin
     is sacky suit
       and patched with the marring
          of toxin exhaust
her worn molt gowning
       clothes it all in

her belfry ?
  there is no sage here
place held ;
     there is a broken variation
        of some childish penitentiary

though her matter is paddy and pollute
her being is parched
she is expulsion in progress

setting :
positioned
  opposing the other physically
      in form of a cold interview
we are in a breakfast café

i will not reach for her hand
  though she'd like the comfort
with no asylum given
  what are her words to be ?

i wait
(i cannot manage a kindness
  her mangy carriage promotes nausea)
i wait
(i'll not reach for her
  her actions in our family wicked life
    she provokes no trust or warmth)
i wait
(i'll not be the first to speak)
      
if there is anything left to say
talk now ?
i feel a little quickening
what are your words, old heck ?

her hands fit about like moth
she ignites a cigarette
the life fights out of her
right then

no spores
only resin
she passes in front of me

she said not a word

i awkwardly pay the bill with quaking hands
and leave her there

i am homeless, without a mother
-scattered-
she is ultimately homeless now

the sky is sopping up
                smears of weather from the city day
filling out darkly
  the portly host of the eve   ushers us into warm dens
nature starts the night shift
it appraises

this night is rat dog    recovering from urban filth
                                       rolling in grass dew and spoil

the tainting of the air     is contributed to from abroad
migration of contraband fumes (forest fires out west)
                                     and the heat raises

too populated   to hold a proper witching hour
the night in shifts
any slumber has its quality watered down 
                                    the constant street activity

weeping sunrise   nights excuses stopper   inebriation rests
arrested blight   morning light and everything about
your crushable body smiles naked things
i roll over to face the uncurtained window
hunch out of bed and stilt my way
to support my self at the sill

overcast with an invasive muffle of smog
members of the bright-time    pooling for occupation
                      do not remember the night
                                it's simply poor sleep

jocular hack of a day
sideways   and flinty with snow
the winds dictate  the true streets of this city
turbine life outside  is in retreat or insurance
sing in the sunny pleasure
let the weather match celebration
beast of spring forgive
our lustless plunder and dumbing
quake us from our numb standard
ferry us

i must hustle    cause i’m made of spoil
moist rice skin
            thinly incases  soft fluttering organs
mucus coated   elastic  chicken bones
                                          run throughout my parcel
they prop me      doe-ing before the lumy screen
     (the screen that volunteers us all)

emaciating into my work
      through this communal portal    i'll detonate my legend
    my spirit shall decant and dispel gladly
in the world remaining
    my cadaver will become acclimated
                        and re-meat the soil in an easy spill

         no longer alienated     my work will be    utter

to hold onto another's
                   vehicle body
                       another's
               flush living corpse
to treat a companions form
       as life cradle
         a giant fostering dummy
          to break open your emotion
         and evacuate in their presence
       to collapse privately into their fold
    and be vulnerable to them
  as though they held
a wattled pouch of birthing elation

to hold a stranger even....
a rotor of deposing energy
because you've been managing
                 your own energies
              so so very inefficiently

grab your 'friend'
pour your familiarities
                ebb and flow
               for comfort
             for mouthing
          for mothering
      and perhaps
something more vigorous

       the parting
         cold embarrassment
          that nesting ill fettle
           when you doubt
the genuine spirit of the liaison
             embarrassed
      cold
and milky human
         out a strange door
           into hard light
  and the painful abrasion
  of the common weather

no picnic when panic
no streets unborn here

germinal ;
creature undresses
from his cool rubbery dead skin
steps
scent free
into the sodium light
and works on its pallor

fleshed out from the plumbing
a manic talent
it sports the label , Mr. Talon
and favours a facade of mercurial cosmetics

now,
a character most vividly colourful and male-ish
a voice
a maddened song
he breaks his face
and makes it a smile

armed with this sickle
bringing his comedic heavings to the public
he goes gory across the fresh laundry
a violence upon the canvas
a spree upon welcoming sadness
an open mockery
breaking ease
and seizing upon an audience

no more chiding
from within the shade
(egging on villains
and dropping muse-meal)
the folk hero
the prankster
this fierce performer of mischief
takes the stage
in a full suit of teeth-skin
and he’s really quite ravenous
for your abiding applause

i fed on your gushy sunshine
i feed on the void black line   that centres all of your smiles
          and fall foreign in felty dreams   of extremities in distance
untravelling   a bursting sense of yelp   back across my lone moor of memory
                            for that  i am blue wound

there is love in life and liver in pâté
it's food and a crush in on me
squeezing out   my colours ruin with blame

                                                       - a discharge

a stranger to me
        - medically -
you disassemble me :
        i'm clasped kindly to the spot

with a hectic burst of flushing warmth
         my vision smudges
         my ears stopper
         my fingertips swell away their prints smooth
         and my tongue becomes
         a stunned obstacle of brawn

a blood blush has discharged
         and thorough throughout my system
         you resound ;
         a booming pulse blooming rabidly
         salivating to the tune
         of a detained ******* savagery

a nature to express how sick you unmake me
my nasal passages clear
your mere radiating visit
           has left me merry-go-maddened with pep