The Vicious Psychic-Cycle TV

Accept the wind
that pisses on logic,
if you pass too close
you miss the target.
Non-verbal single fears,
the pieces pick themselves,
listen beyond the TV freaks
saying ‘the silent God is weak’.

Consumed grey embers
become the glowing pyre
the scale of it
I can only imagine.
Pass beyond
the delusion state,
in the old house
its taboo I hate.

The speed of plants
can bare reality,
they never tire
of the human kind.
Nature dissapointed
by my lack of freedom,
seeing things hidden
I never find.

The apparent atom
changed Einstein,
listening and nagging
at my own substance.
Unarmed ideas
occupy everyone,
found a good thing
for my hearts impulse.

Seeking power
however idly driven,
because release
communicates form.
Everything aging is
an Earthly catastrophe,
the opium solution
is human borne.

I salient corners
the humming string
is craving to save
its motionless wave.
A commical edge
to eons of abyss,
karma drains
at every risk.

Peoples understanding
compare shop faces,
desire fat shelves
not poignant places.
The people have heard,
the buddhist words,
merge to become
the alter-herd.

A body alone
for a TV death,
holding on and
vibrating the cage.
Factory lives
reject the escape,
the animals on tap
dying for space.

Dissolve or control
to rule the past.
I watched the Waco massacre
and I didn’t laugh.
Did they escape
the truth or reality?
Have we watched
normalised brutality?

Fear of thought
completes the false friend,
the exhausting hypocrisy
that never ends.
Miss Ape meets borrow,
in stories that veil.
Miss Ape turns hollow,
the present has failed.


Infected linguistics
endless and deep.
Bleak logistics
manufactured relief.
A desparate menace
parasite on society,
killing necessary humanity
in servile sobriety.

Uprooted and endless
a narcotic invasion,
a distant false stretch
I’m avoiding affection.
Shimmering vision
yet to manifest,
everything is
lead and ash.

Senseless interupt
brings me the needle,
withdrawal gimmicks
hide the thirst.
My secret is out
a dark lined cloud,
the twisted subliminal
bubble has burst.

Cramped between
narrowing limits,
physiological prison
with vacuumed decisions.
Insects crawling
emerge through my skin,
leave my bones thin
like the life I’m living.

Bleak infection
assists my foul form,
in case I miss something,
protection at dawn.
Separate cold vessels
allude me in dreams,
I think its all over,
a losing game, it seems.

The moons pale sister
ellipses the frame,
knows I’m searching
for throw-off pain.
A pharmacist prescribes
an inch of life,
his special reach
touches the knife.

Words and pictures
have failed me now.
A chemical kick
with a dream to trick.
Beware the man in the car
the phone
the hat
on the bike
the coat on your back,
like the musk in wood
or an old green floor,
my veins cut off,
I’m gods no more.


Touching skewed spiralling shapes
my vivd waking life.
An infinite edge
to a familiar language,
dreaming every night.

Recognise shiny plastic
shapes as tree or dog or friend.
A hollow party
of paisley people,
the mesh dissapears and ends.

Meandering in life
a definate design,
only the movement matters.
An English blessing,
undignified trip,
the blatant rejection flatters.

We evolve as lone entities
and a single mass in motion,
rushing from a single source
to frantically awaken.

Life as fickle as a smoke belch
energy evades extinction,
yearning for a peaceful night
in a void of definition.

Sunflower’s break through the Ice

In sunflower heaven
wandering stars
burst finely defined
spiralling lines.
Forever stone arches
with hidden and secret paleness,
in vast marble gardens,
with a stretched yellow river.

Ascending gold pistons
and wordless red trumpets,
purl liquid ivy
from thick to fear.
Synchronised traces
of aped smiley faces,
layer the tunnels
in monstrous bass.

Red and yellow droplets
form kaleidoscopic spheres
weep every colour
as patterns on glass.
The whole scenario
repeats in response
to each conversation;
transient at last.

Today is the Day

Transform yourself
in the psychiatrist chair.
Recruite “gays” and “women” ?
Interested? “Who cares..!”

Battle for acceptance
the immortal line,
“get a grip freak!”
“sell, sell, now’s the time!”

Vanishing anarchists
defy control,
pondering liberty
for a seal of approval.

Playing the game
and tax concessions
welcoming smiles
over drug convictions.

An act of madnness
to last respects,
guilty pleasures
your best friend accepts.

Programme abolished
must try harder,
try one yourself
the picture is clearer.

Charity shop therapy
a simple bubble,
chaos is religion,
another time, trouble.


The thought of you
clouded my purpose,
I lose the moment
and the pain resurfaces.

Between the cracks
of the purest love,
my disease hunts
for the cut above.

It sends me back
to pain once held,
sends me forward
to the future’s fold.

Fantasies of outcomes
and distant presumptions,
when the illusion shatters
there is no salvation.

I’m lost with emptiness
my disease is unchecked,
a dream I once held
ends in spiritual death.

When I lose control
reality begins to hurt,
in a desperate attempt
I try to cure the curse.

But the answer is inside me
the past and future, gone,
I’m living for reality
and the universe in song.


I cannot turn the tide
or the moon that affects it,
I can’t stop the Earth from spinning
or its eliptical trajectory.

I cannot turn the stars black
or the gas clouds that create them,
I can’t bring the dead back to life
or stop the sadness, for them.

I cannot change how people feel
or how the heart wants more,
I can’t alter the time that passes
or the futures endless progress.

I was so lost for so long
I didn’t want to be around,
it was all a bit of a falsehood
I was powerless to resist.