Saturday, December 31, 2011

stupid whore

found her in a bar
looking like something from a film
all red velvet dress fading
fluff coming off and bare patches, fabric thinning
smoking as if there were to be a
'don't mind if i do' embargo
making every butt, lipstick stained, proof for eternity
that it was you
you did it...

your lips
your secret but well traveled lips
you stink of old chanel 5
it comes out only on highdays
not too many, evidently
you are here for an occasion
you are here to pull focus
to pull him
to pull something

stupid whore
found drunk on your bed
on your front
lip chalk dragged down straight passage
top to half way down single bed
over the pale green
pistol still tucked into the tight side of your suspender belt

and yet
you wake up cold with just a splitting head ache
and clots of blood between your splitting arse cheeks

stupid whore
too flattered and drunk to
un-cling the atoms that make a man
a stuttering sickening stoat of a man
a lick of a dick
a flick and a click
stupid whore

so he had around 12 million murdered

love status

love is everything. all you need. all you want. all you seek. all you crave. i choose to give love unconditionally and am sneered at for it. and ridiculed. but what they don't see is, i don't get hurt by it. after all, if i give something freely and without expectation of any further action, then, it's done. given. and it made me feel beautiful. therefore, if anyone wishes to push it back to me, to upset, cos they have some personal reason,it can't come back to me. cos it's left me. it's left my anima. it's out there. as a child i wanted as much love as i could get from anyone i could get it from. family. friends. teachers etc. now i have my family, my loved ones, my friends and i just wanna give it without condition or contract. to anyone i want to love. happy new year. more love.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

big long kitchen

silent kitchen

too much space

had their share
set for ten
now zero there

i am sitting looking on
from the outside in
they don't know
where i am
who i am
or even if i 'm here at all

i am not sure
that i know either

but i should like someone to know
before i go

before i go

silent kitchen
too much air
had their share
set for thirteen
nobody there

i am sitting looking on
they don't know where i belong
from the outside looking in
who am i, where have i been

i am not sure
that i know either
i guess ones soul knows both
and neither

i think i'd like someone to know
it might be nice, before i go

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

boy of about 15

odd time, lasts about a week
almost bouncy
all unco-ordinated
gangly involuntarily undulating, yes, bobbing up n down
but in air, not water
move like a lank monkey all swinging arms n legs
but you can't be king o' the jungle yet.
skinny long limbs
even flollollollopping down
and hard fall drop full as if they weigh tons.
from shoulder to finger.
a mile!

the entirety is full of life
extremes of expression in a nanosecond
japes grimaces sudden disproportionate rage
trousers falling down
then actually off

because there has developed as yet no arse ....

jerking strangely under enormous ear satellite dishes
attached to a girls headband
and that you see, is cool.
we wanted smaller
they want bigger
and that you see is time.
kung fu moves around the kitchen
careful or your broccoli quiche will end up punch kicked thru the sky light

nothing is new enough
expensive enough
sporty enough
no model pretty enough
no car fast enough
he. rules. ice.

yet when his special 'friend'
sends a the wrong text
he'll sob like the beautiful big bubba he is.

Monday, December 19, 2011

what if the best thing happened

post prandial perfection...
thought it was what
letting the little light in
allowing all the 'we don't want any of that, thank you' to squeeze out of
the gap in the old pine door
the one i wanted you said no
and you were right
at the time
yes, so coax it out just as it is
bilious belly bulging out of a weeny wooden skirt
and turn round, and come back to us
fine and pure
statuesque streaming sensuality
see how your
childhood expectations
held up;

''you were right''

it can't be true!
so God is good....
and i needn't have worried
endlessly and endlessly
and wept all night
and hid behind make up
and over exuberance
and over given
and tried so hard

i could have just
born my pain

been me

Thursday, December 15, 2011

piece of inch

there was a lot of waiting
that day like all the rest
sweat on palms and sides of nose,
and boxers in my chest
the door was opening so slow
but speed was present somewhere though
for in that tiny piece of inch
i knew it was a no.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

the horror of the 70s

oh 70s! you led me into life
cherubic gold, pre-raphaelite like child
the sickly psychodelic double knife
it cut the cord, and everything went wild

the grown ups all danced naked round a fire
A woman's pubic hair was more her beard
the decade haute couture snubbed as a liar
and drugs made normal folk soft lumps of weird

and colours came like luminescent puke
and rhythms felt like fingers half in ears
and chocolate sold just like the thin white duke.
your parties taught us how to murder peers.

Monday, December 12, 2011


words pour out like
nail polish
from an open side stood pot
they can flow in bold or see thru
like the fact or not

Sunday, December 11, 2011


smooth grey
long stretches
curled ball
autistic sketches
you remember
from september
to december in

how many
left to right
from left to right
to left then right
you print it in your head
you prince
stamp it in there
charcoal, terracotta
press the numbers
press them harder
harder still
your tick is charming

get some vapid
network host
and reproduce it
shiningly right through
some tv show...

and we all see you needle wince
as you forgot
one dot

i worship talent
and i revere
yes everything you are
i'm near.

to lunch with you
would be a thrill
in awe of you.
i take my pill

to stop myself from getting more
like you whom i do so adore.



its dark inside
oh almost black
the air's full flat
i sense a lack
its' not to be
that is to say
you miracle
strike up to play


i needed
one sense, hand feel
and could not find
the spinning wheel
yes one dark time
He bent to say
soft in my ear
to make a way

Saturday, December 10, 2011

i was still here...

today i wrote a letter
 i've wanted to write for 25 years
and then each year yet
more n more
until ...
all of my fears
were zapped,
by urgency,
like the confidence he sapped
out of me,
year after sneer after jeer.

and the big me
even after all that...
put it all in a spell check box

asked if i were sure
anything more
something in store

and pressed send.
it was half an hour ago

no regrets
nothing yet
in shock
doors will knock
it'll all kick off

but i was still here....

i rock.

the power of picking out the softies

 i see you, other person
all curled up seated there
when i go in or out of church
and feel your bully's stare.

to use your picture of maria
as a bargain tool...
to flick heart strings of blood
over those steps, with your next fool.

to flood shit pity, have your day
go home with 90 euro
i go inside and try to pray....
at home inside my bureau

is 18 for our weekly shop.
but thats not what is worse.
you know with every cursed cry
just hearing you my day was cursed.

your gift is sharp, you use it well
my gift's my art, my love, my fears
yours is sniffing out the ones
who'll spend the day from then in tears

the effects of the brain upon pain, pain levels, pain sensitivity, pain frequency, pain tolerence....

not to sound anecdotal
but the effects are

Sunday, December 4, 2011


oh the chef at work in love
swooshing soon to be edible noises and quick quick pans...
exquisite objets d'arts will be here soon... 
it's the scent of promises kept.
i see my hands over the keys
and see that burn didn't go yet
the scar from the car door slam still there 
some people have manicurists, too much time and money
i have a migraine is that the same?
but the deep sea noises of the kitchen cure it calmly
and hearing him hum from zauberflote, that boy, naked but for an apron
the most beautiful man i have ever seen will approach me soon
and tell me, naked and proud, lunch is going to be served.
we will make love while we eat, our eyes, our lips, our legs, our toes
i will hope i don't cry or suddenly flip
if i do he will cradle me and laugh me out of it...
this man is a whisp
but he is immense.
his talent divine.
the savant boy has just begun
and i have seen something rare.

i have something rare.

the wrong book

the kids in line all books in hand
the book store it was heaving
though no-one seemed to filter in
and dozens they were leaving...
the authoress was writing names
and one of them was hers
bag on table, book in bag
she talked with kids in verse!

it was far too busy for us all
if truth it shall be told here
and after days it was our turn
and finally we were near...
we got our squiggles, and both names
and went home high and pleased
she even had a pic with her
they both were so at ease!

pass me mummy's pink pills please...
in-store it went sick-fizzy
with zilions of five year olds
her desk-books-bags all busy. 

at home, and comforting ones child
'' we'll get gifts from the book-store... ''

for dedicated to my babe:
'the hole duty of a whore''

Friday, December 2, 2011

little piece of weird

selling them at 50 pence
selling them at 10
making them at huge expense
how i made them then
very weird! i sold far more
at 50 pence a throw
than when i slashed the price. research
is everything, you know

i love that little piece of weird
i put it on my lap
and stroke it til it purrs, or not
and while it has a nap.
i let you in, i let you in
you weirdy ball of strange
the ''PR'' who came up with you
will have to ''rearrange''