remix re/minded

i took out the drums
i didn't know why i'd left them there in the first place
a lack of confidence perhaps

all sounds are sourced
from the original 
perhaps this is what i meant


 

the completist fails

back then i had this plan
to record everything
to publish everything
to spew myself in techniclour glory
a process/eon of microbe quality emissions
it didn't happen
i pushed the wrong button
or didn't push the button at all
i spluttered my way thru'
spittle flying with no record
now/here i put something out
with piss and spittle
something old, crumbling
something once upon a time
with no happy ending
no ending at all...

extraction as exorcise

wittered words
one
another
and so on 
(cut out the dead flesh
experiment 1
 

ancient curse

The far queue - ancient curse by TFQ

inside my head,
the cut-throat cacophony,
screeching of a thousand gulls,
possesses me.
i cut you up.
a thousand pieces, a thousand
ribbons of you,
i dress my hair
with you,
a medusa wig,
a thousand snakes hiss
powerless,
curse the cutting deed.
i wear you.
i take yr power,
in samson vengeance,
my hair is you.
and i am
no longer eyeless
no longer with the slaves.
inside my head,
with a cut-throat mind,
i cut you up -
scarlet ribbons of you

ben e king revisited

here's benny!

demon eyes see

crash thru' the bush

branches broken

between teeth leaves 

catching time

hold the breakthru'

here, the centre of universe

what you see is what you get

dragons, snakes, blood, devils

flux of desire and death

a girl smoking...

role...distraction

 

still water still drowns 

depths unfathomed

beauty not easily  found

but easily lost

here i am

a prospective ant's nest

in words, from words, to words

the moon half

body shifts, waiting

a boat, static

an indulgence for the pilot

an expression of vacation

absent being

a holiday

the god is pre/sent

pa, pa, pan!

danger

children ignore the signs; hang

from branches over ice cold water then

drop, immortal,

plunging into darkness, eyes shut tight,

gasp, hearts stop; push,

bodies break the surface. this

is unbelievable. scramble for the bank;

the echo of screams dying only now,

rush to do it all again...

expect someone to die now.

we’ve heard this, how someone got caught,

their foot

entangled. they drown or fall,

        and we,

warned. still the thrill of cheating death

remains alive

right now i’m on my roof,

               ready to leap.

off with our heads

inside
the criminal decision
not to act
or speak
or whatever
turns and returns
wound open
slow repetitive
nagging twists

/hipster b/

the frame of reference
recurring equation
i spill the ink like ejaculate
i take my coffee
e-jac-u-latte

document 25052012

piano is the heart, is the soul,
resonance revealed

street drunk with dog
skin too red too soon
eyes blanked w/ need

and my heart is being broken
again, again,

by the piano
by the joanna man

i have spent
done and dusted
dream impossible things
make impossible connections

the song defines need, loss, anger
eyes wide, impossible, open
as soon as we look in the eyes we know
another impossible

this space is always longing
this reverb
of memory and reflection

in the end
the end

action speaks

in place of love
pain
in place of thought
work
in place of words
music

in the end
nothing
the whispered last
breath

left hanging

and the crime of living
an endless childhood
always spiralling
to this full stop.

the manipulation of ghosts

and it's time [it's always time]
[recurring]
i'm singing [in my mind]
silent voice, silent voice

codes implicit, this is shorthand

intimate exchange, a critical distance
it could be miles
or mm

we are always collapsing away from complexity

imagine a world
where we do not collapse into any roles
where we are the 'logical' expression of our will

the window [open]
the body [filled with desire, trembling]
[hot] blonde

pornographic expressing
desire is reduced to fractions
the knife is cutting, jack the ripper

reduce, reduced

everything is about fetishes
toys, pets, perversions, drugs.

we desire total love, express [unedited]
a continuum [feedback]
process chaos

unfigured by tedious compromise
imagine flesh giving, forgiving
surrendered

liquid blue eyes
elements of fracture
we are all failing

dreams too precious
pinched lines of frustration
failing to realise

desire is bloody and old
we are in a war

we are always in a war
to realise ourselves
 

ben e. king of the crossroads motel

ghost surgeon haunt m.e.
it's a cut-up
it's a carve-up

"we're sacrificing roosters here!"

to be clear
cock. 'k'off! 'k'off!
it's blood sacrifice

realisation, uh nothing

all points on the compass
all time on the clock
face is 'familiar'

the symbol is fossil

between machinesong and birdsong
body of light
the risk is water

[chemical residue]

scum
s'cum
s.c.u.m.

every conversation ends the same

in the end we find we write because we must. nothing good comes of it. the words are repeats. the phrases hackneyed. but on it goes. this becomes something else now. a not-confession. the hacking together of bodies spliced by time. we eat our own flesh. all ways there will be new ways of saying old things. all ways we will come here to watch the sea, hear the beach shift, pebble over pebble, a life-sized cabasa. empty bottles of long drunk wine, the memories of what we once were.

all ways the pen, all ways the paper

endless words forced out
seeking blood and sacrifice
seeking revelation beneath the stones

the world shifts
according to economics
development, theft, destruction

in the dark when it falls
we are floundering

aspects of ownership, land, capital
the arguments remain the same
in the end it's war

democracy does not serve us
ownership enshrined by law

electronic soul, electro blues

everything ends
even this
which seems interminable

but we will be dead, so it goes

and this dissolving into nothing
this end. death. with no after.
no follow.

in space we love.

transmission

this is local information

i smell like work. the odour of sweat and effort.

i am solanas!

in the melee of this post-ideological political worl' i feel a desperate urge to leap to my captive feet and proclaim - i am solanas! i think it's the only logical response.

es! sea! you! em!

we are cut up, cannibalised, rehashed as mess/ages from (m)other worl's. we the matter. we the media.

andy's dead but we didn't kill him.

in two glass cabinets, a perfectly separated hirst in formaldehyde, you can walk between him, profoundly.

i am solanas!