Greg stumbled down the facility steps in the same manner as he did every year - hesistantly, leaning against the heavy railings while he adapted to the pressure of the season, cynically considering a hemisphere of stellar promises and bulletins, finally dumping his personal effects near the drains, complete with the box in which they had waited so patiently for him. Only the expression on his face differed from the previous year's expedition and that was because Greg was deeply worried.
No-one else on the rails could be said to be worried, nor elated, angry or sad - a slight giddiness, hesistance or pre-occupation corresponded to a dip in capability, in competence, so an overt display of emotion could only be bad news to anyone nearby and no-one wanted to be forced into an intervention. Most assumed the doctrine of the stiff upper lip, nowadays, and Greg realized his error, quickly composing his features in a disinterested mask, betraying - if anything - a slight boredom, a splitting image of any of the other busy people traversing the rail system, and every bit as cool to companionship. Not bad at all that after half a year of seclusion and ordeal one could be so closely and immediately re-assimilated, but then it was nothing new to Greg. He did this every year, or in this case, slightly more often still, and that was what he was worried about - for what ever reason, they had let him out one day too early.
It was simply disastrous.
He entertained the possibility that he had miscalculated the sentence he tried so hard to earn, but he was adamant that he had acted correctly; it was distinct and fresh in his mind that animal abuse was worth a month in the slam, incrementing by a month for each further offense. Hadn't Lasry, his lawyer, confirmed that much when he had called? And since the system couldn't afford to distinguish without greatly confounding the already byzantine legal lexicon - not to mention fueling the ire of the various pressure groups, and there really was one for every minute consideration, these days - three flushed rats would seem to qualify one for the same detainment period that you'd expect for hacking the antennae off of the three tallest giraffes in the pens, and those girls got rarer every season. "No, this must be a policy thing", Greg thought. "It can't be a gift for my good behaviour, because I was simply awful every time I had the opportunity to be," and then had to think about something else, because remembering the uncouth acts he had performed inside drew his face into an unpleasant grimace.
Things got more complicated every year, and this was the result. His feet drew him inexorably onto the tracks and then diverted him onto a flyway which egressed near his home (that old manor, the one he'd rather avoid through confinement than spend even a night there) upon which he walked as slowly as possible, shuffling like a children's clockwork toy, desperate to keep its footing on an incline. This was not where he wished to go, but it was too late to make plans and in any case, on a day like today it was a magnet; Greg grinned as he restrained his body, moving as sparingly as possible in order to delay his inevitable arrival.
Greg had spent every one of his previous birthdays behind bars, as they used to say, through his own designs in every case but the first, the event that had precipitated it all; his mother had snapped on her own birthday (exactly opposite Greg's own on the celestial calendar, a fact which astrologists had urged psychiatrists to consider grave and consequential) and had tried to electrocute him with a severed flex-cord for reasons unknown - presumably something of the mothering instinct had become deeply corrupted on what was after all an emotional day; Greg had overpowered her in a panicking frenzy, falling on her in such a way that had fate touch the exposed elements to his mother's brow, causing both of them to be coursed with that surging, addictive, uncontainable energy - unlike her, he had survived from the atomy inwards, requiring whole new folds of fat and flesh but still retaining his mind and his pulse. Following his reassembly, Greg was confined to a ward under the reasoning that it would take time for him to come to terms with his shock - a pun that was lost on the operatives there, at least until his back was turned. He played along with the shrinks, allowing them to read damage into his behaviour, even affecting a slight sluggishness and ideosyncracy in his speech, but in secret he was happier than he'd ever been before - more vitalized and commanding of a hitherfore unawakened purpose. The ordeal, instead of damaging his powers of communication or capability, had only caused the deterioration of his morals.
They had released him on the day following his 16th birthday; he had spent it climbing the walls in pursuit of some unseen goal, and this exuberance was interpreted as the final sign that he was ready to tackle society, head-on. As the air greeted him, so did a gray old nurse, who told him that he was to be known as "Martin" from that moment onward - this was the last step in "locking away the old, frightened self and presenting a fresh, approachable new face to the world," - and presented him with a nametag that said so, along with a fresh change of woollen clothes which he abandoned, more or less immediately, in the middle of the road.
In any case, that facility closed the very next year following an investigation into certain therapeutic techniques of dubious benefit, and with hindsight, Greg could see why. Martin, Greg thought, was a cretin with only a stiff upper lip to his credit - and what use was that?
----------------
Now playing: Phew - [View #03] Act [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, 13 September 2007
I AM TESTING MY INTERNET CAPABILITIES
so, doth FoxyTunes signatures work? Let's see:
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Now playing: Jun Togawa Band - [Togawa Fiction #03] Mon Cher, Je Suis à Paris [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
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Now playing: Jun Togawa Band - [Togawa Fiction #03] Mon Cher, Je Suis à Paris [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, 30 August 2007
state of self
I want to join an ascetic sect; to own nothing more than a robe and a bowl. I'll accept any religion with such an order if they allow me to join, but I will not consider its tenets or scriptures - merely let them baptise me in my indifference. I don't want to be attached to anything or have an opinion on any topic; I want to become anonymous to myself and have no characteristics or ego, no tastes, eccentricies or preferences. I don't want to be anyone's tool, not even my own unwitting servant. I'd like to wither away without acknowledging my own passing. I'd like to be separate from the fruits of other people's labour - away from technology and from youth, from the industrial and from the field. Is this also a desire I should attempt to shed, to annul? I had hope that simply by doing nothing, chaos would spin me and push me towards different things, if not better things, and I see that it hasn't happen, and can't - there are no better things. So, I wish to withdraw. Can this wish be granted, in these modern times, without resorting to death? I believe it can be, by total self-denial - I want to achieve my own state of limbo and not the violent, public one expected of me.
Often I trick myself into believing that this is what I am achieving simply by bombarding myself with noise or tricking myself into hypnosis with a monitor, but I know that this is the opposite of what I wish for - sensory overload is cheap and easy to attain. Give me total silence.
Diogenes was lucky to have lived so many centuries ago.
Often I trick myself into believing that this is what I am achieving simply by bombarding myself with noise or tricking myself into hypnosis with a monitor, but I know that this is the opposite of what I wish for - sensory overload is cheap and easy to attain. Give me total silence.
Diogenes was lucky to have lived so many centuries ago.
Friday, 17 August 2007
top ten albums
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Speaker Five's Dilemma
① To start: The last truly enlightened being to join us ascended two hundred years past. Why is this? Do your worlds not stimulate the collective unconscious? Perhaps you have mistaken such a concept for that of instinct? We like to think that if you avoid the most obvious decisions then others will present themselves. No hero worth the name reacts without thinking - we call those beings animals.
② No-one writes sagas anymore. Cameras are too resentful to capture a hero's greatest moments - they're here to hold them liable. If you can't force your way into the history books - and let's face it, plead to our jury of self-loathing, post-barbaric revisionists and anti-intellectual iconoclasts, there's no room left for the names of anyone who can't kick a ball - then it's time for a more insidious approach.
⑨ Register scorn for speaker two; your race is too closely scrutinized for any subterfuge.
③ In any case, subtlety achieves little. Tragedy captivates us more than benevolence, so each of us will dare to be that little bit more reckless than the other and, through neglect, we'll participate in a grim roulette in hope of acquiring notoriety even of a regrettable nature. Performance, philosophy and science will be measured on the Richter scale and names carried and repeated by the human resonance will summon the apocalyptic riders one by one -
① Register scorn for speaker three; such rhetoric is not welcome in our council of peers. Secondly, remain anonymous. Thirdly, what of virtue?
④ Redefined as a regrettable trait. All possible opinions on the twin moons are aligned with a certain cause. Virtues have been evenly spread between them; now no-one can argue on behalf of true altruism.
② All you do is qualify the opinions of the unqualified. Spread the idea of muted fate and you won't be required to manage all sides of a debate.
① Your methods are oppressive, yet is it not true that we came to hold our positions thanks to our morality?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker one.
① I restate.
⑨ Scorn. You know that morality is a fable of guidelines, flimsy when met with temptation. All planets have replaced this inefficiency with a system of hard mental blocks. We can rely on these ineffable directives more than we can on your code of honour.
③ Attest.
⑤ The next to sublimate into our company will be one of your animals, speaker one, and to refer to one so is an underestimation of the power such a focused mind will bring to the cogence.
⑦ Not so fast, speaker five. You presume that one of your clones will bring benefit to the table when we already have one such advocate of mindlessness among us -
⑤ Scorn. Would that a battery drone replace your ego -
⑨ Cease.
④ Truly the twins are a fruitless experiment now that we know that all sublimations occur thanks to the agitation and bombardment of the psyche. The very idea that a race in full compliance and agreement could evolve into anything but an ants' nest is -
⑥ + ⑧ Ridiculous. And unsubstantiated by any research.
① Yet no-one is closer to achieving the harmony which a planetary awakening demands. Speaker seven, my hope rests in your success - tell us about your progress.
⑦ My world is young and its people are pioneers; each race reaches out to meet its neighbours. Soon a mutual network will be formed and the planet will work towards a noble goal. All this is achieved without my personal meddling, thanks to the basic spirit and health of my planet. You who cultivate negatively and deny the basic vitamin of ascendency will be harshly rewarded, no matter how cruelly you wield your powers.
① Attest.
④ Most naive speaker, the people of your planet are not of one blood; if you wish for success you will instigate a war between the landwalking races. Co-operation will occur in no other way.
⑦ Oh, idiot war god, embittered by the ignominy of the pit, do your wounds ache still, addling your mind?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker seven; value the experiences of your peers.
⑥ + ⑧ Symbiosis has been known to arise between races. We would have undoubtedly succeeded in this task were we to have been blessed with better circumstances; as it is, our world seems to be doomed to destruction before any can escape.
⑦ Sweet sisters, your humility never fails to charm. My companion angels mean to say that speaker three's expansionism has denied them the chance to unfurl their wings.
③ Ha! Ha! Ha! You share your precious planet so well that I inferred the invitation. Besides, you loathe the land and that's all we have mined. Of course, it is to be regretted that the core of your planet has become so unstable, but I will save your sweet race - I invite you all to inhabit our orbitals made of the materials we have come to possess thanks to your welcome embrace of the drill. It is the least I can do.
⑥ + ⑧ Register scorn for speaker three thanks to her unforgivable arrogance. We speak for our unity when we say that we would rather die than breathe of enslavement.
① Attest to your sentiments and regret for your predicament.
⑦ Likewise, sisters. Know that I intend to intervene -
⑨ Challenge.
⑦ Proceed, youngest speaker, but you face humiliation.
⑨ Your motives become malicious when you attest to non-intervention before hypocritically moving to damage the aquatic project. Know that the majority of the cogence would dissuade you from pride -
① Register scorn for speaker nine; must you squash the only heroism evident in the council?
⑦ Furthermore you ascribe some false motive to the charity I offer. Please clarify why the actions I intend to perform are malicious.
⑨ Call speaker five.
⑤ All deliberate acts are evil; only instinct is honesty. Also, acts of good will lead to a tragedy just as surely as any declaration of war, evidenced in the luckless periods of speaker two's domain.
② Recognised and adjusted, primitive friend.
⑤ If the goal here is to bring about fulfillment of our heart-forsaken prophecy by introducing a tenth member to the pantheon then we must test our subjects at all times; intervention is fruitless and damaging to our interests. Surely this is transparent to us all.
① Must we not rescue each other in times of concern? Only then do we have the greatest chance of success.
⑨ Register scorn for such fallacious attempts at steering the cogence.
① I restate and note your logical lapse concerning speaker five's argu-
⑨ Add speaker one to the challenge.
[great murmurings]
⑤ Philosophy prevents me from speaking in such a way that contributes to speaker one's removal from the pantheon. It would be an evil act.
⑦ Attest! We agree on more than you suspect, great hunter.
⑨ Then by your abstension my challenge succeeds. Speakers three, six and eight back my vote.
[great murmurings]
⑦ Surely there has been a misunderstanding. I merely supported the beast's honour; you realise that I am forced by protocol to vote against your challenge.
⑨ As lead speaker I support no such protocol. Recommend that you return to prime to associate with your doomed symbiotic race. Take the elder with you; having contributed to his deposition I suspect you owe him a great apology - grant your world to his rulership but know that you both report to me from now on. And silence their channels.
④ Challenge based on the sudden shift of power among the cogence; recommend instead that speakers one and seven be executed.
① Speaker four, have you abandoned the prophecies? And speaker three, do you already crack the aquatic whip? In doing so you have forced the sisters to vote against their own survival - by speaker five's own admission, an evil act! Is this what we have come to? You act to depose God?
⑨ I said silence their channels. Very well, speaker four, execution is best. Now logic is dead, who moves forward with the ascension?
② + ③ Earth does, my dear. We'll pollute the waters we swim, drop by drop, and when we're clothed in layers of filth we'll say we've adapted; surely any mutations that set in at this late stage would be sure to be beneficial, and so, by consensus, we'll approve of our exoskeletal arrogance that shields us from real understanding and, weighing on us so heavily, drags us slowly down into the deep murk.
⑨ And so on to the stars. Attest.
② No-one writes sagas anymore. Cameras are too resentful to capture a hero's greatest moments - they're here to hold them liable. If you can't force your way into the history books - and let's face it, plead to our jury of self-loathing, post-barbaric revisionists and anti-intellectual iconoclasts, there's no room left for the names of anyone who can't kick a ball - then it's time for a more insidious approach.
⑨ Register scorn for speaker two; your race is too closely scrutinized for any subterfuge.
③ In any case, subtlety achieves little. Tragedy captivates us more than benevolence, so each of us will dare to be that little bit more reckless than the other and, through neglect, we'll participate in a grim roulette in hope of acquiring notoriety even of a regrettable nature. Performance, philosophy and science will be measured on the Richter scale and names carried and repeated by the human resonance will summon the apocalyptic riders one by one -
① Register scorn for speaker three; such rhetoric is not welcome in our council of peers. Secondly, remain anonymous. Thirdly, what of virtue?
④ Redefined as a regrettable trait. All possible opinions on the twin moons are aligned with a certain cause. Virtues have been evenly spread between them; now no-one can argue on behalf of true altruism.
② All you do is qualify the opinions of the unqualified. Spread the idea of muted fate and you won't be required to manage all sides of a debate.
① Your methods are oppressive, yet is it not true that we came to hold our positions thanks to our morality?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker one.
① I restate.
⑨ Scorn. You know that morality is a fable of guidelines, flimsy when met with temptation. All planets have replaced this inefficiency with a system of hard mental blocks. We can rely on these ineffable directives more than we can on your code of honour.
③ Attest.
⑤ The next to sublimate into our company will be one of your animals, speaker one, and to refer to one so is an underestimation of the power such a focused mind will bring to the cogence.
⑦ Not so fast, speaker five. You presume that one of your clones will bring benefit to the table when we already have one such advocate of mindlessness among us -
⑤ Scorn. Would that a battery drone replace your ego -
⑨ Cease.
④ Truly the twins are a fruitless experiment now that we know that all sublimations occur thanks to the agitation and bombardment of the psyche. The very idea that a race in full compliance and agreement could evolve into anything but an ants' nest is -
⑥ + ⑧ Ridiculous. And unsubstantiated by any research.
① Yet no-one is closer to achieving the harmony which a planetary awakening demands. Speaker seven, my hope rests in your success - tell us about your progress.
⑦ My world is young and its people are pioneers; each race reaches out to meet its neighbours. Soon a mutual network will be formed and the planet will work towards a noble goal. All this is achieved without my personal meddling, thanks to the basic spirit and health of my planet. You who cultivate negatively and deny the basic vitamin of ascendency will be harshly rewarded, no matter how cruelly you wield your powers.
① Attest.
④ Most naive speaker, the people of your planet are not of one blood; if you wish for success you will instigate a war between the landwalking races. Co-operation will occur in no other way.
⑦ Oh, idiot war god, embittered by the ignominy of the pit, do your wounds ache still, addling your mind?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker seven; value the experiences of your peers.
⑥ + ⑧ Symbiosis has been known to arise between races. We would have undoubtedly succeeded in this task were we to have been blessed with better circumstances; as it is, our world seems to be doomed to destruction before any can escape.
⑦ Sweet sisters, your humility never fails to charm. My companion angels mean to say that speaker three's expansionism has denied them the chance to unfurl their wings.
③ Ha! Ha! Ha! You share your precious planet so well that I inferred the invitation. Besides, you loathe the land and that's all we have mined. Of course, it is to be regretted that the core of your planet has become so unstable, but I will save your sweet race - I invite you all to inhabit our orbitals made of the materials we have come to possess thanks to your welcome embrace of the drill. It is the least I can do.
⑥ + ⑧ Register scorn for speaker three thanks to her unforgivable arrogance. We speak for our unity when we say that we would rather die than breathe of enslavement.
① Attest to your sentiments and regret for your predicament.
⑦ Likewise, sisters. Know that I intend to intervene -
⑨ Challenge.
⑦ Proceed, youngest speaker, but you face humiliation.
⑨ Your motives become malicious when you attest to non-intervention before hypocritically moving to damage the aquatic project. Know that the majority of the cogence would dissuade you from pride -
① Register scorn for speaker nine; must you squash the only heroism evident in the council?
⑦ Furthermore you ascribe some false motive to the charity I offer. Please clarify why the actions I intend to perform are malicious.
⑨ Call speaker five.
⑤ All deliberate acts are evil; only instinct is honesty. Also, acts of good will lead to a tragedy just as surely as any declaration of war, evidenced in the luckless periods of speaker two's domain.
② Recognised and adjusted, primitive friend.
⑤ If the goal here is to bring about fulfillment of our heart-forsaken prophecy by introducing a tenth member to the pantheon then we must test our subjects at all times; intervention is fruitless and damaging to our interests. Surely this is transparent to us all.
① Must we not rescue each other in times of concern? Only then do we have the greatest chance of success.
⑨ Register scorn for such fallacious attempts at steering the cogence.
① I restate and note your logical lapse concerning speaker five's argu-
⑨ Add speaker one to the challenge.
[great murmurings]
⑤ Philosophy prevents me from speaking in such a way that contributes to speaker one's removal from the pantheon. It would be an evil act.
⑦ Attest! We agree on more than you suspect, great hunter.
⑨ Then by your abstension my challenge succeeds. Speakers three, six and eight back my vote.
[great murmurings]
⑦ Surely there has been a misunderstanding. I merely supported the beast's honour; you realise that I am forced by protocol to vote against your challenge.
⑨ As lead speaker I support no such protocol. Recommend that you return to prime to associate with your doomed symbiotic race. Take the elder with you; having contributed to his deposition I suspect you owe him a great apology - grant your world to his rulership but know that you both report to me from now on. And silence their channels.
④ Challenge based on the sudden shift of power among the cogence; recommend instead that speakers one and seven be executed.
① Speaker four, have you abandoned the prophecies? And speaker three, do you already crack the aquatic whip? In doing so you have forced the sisters to vote against their own survival - by speaker five's own admission, an evil act! Is this what we have come to? You act to depose God?
⑨ I said silence their channels. Very well, speaker four, execution is best. Now logic is dead, who moves forward with the ascension?
② + ③ Earth does, my dear. We'll pollute the waters we swim, drop by drop, and when we're clothed in layers of filth we'll say we've adapted; surely any mutations that set in at this late stage would be sure to be beneficial, and so, by consensus, we'll approve of our exoskeletal arrogance that shields us from real understanding and, weighing on us so heavily, drags us slowly down into the deep murk.
⑨ And so on to the stars. Attest.
ten weeks to live
Having attempted to shed all opinions about things I don't care about, hide my bitterness beneath a veneer of well-intentioned house-wifeliness that no-one could ever deserve and teach myself to embrace everything nerdly without concern for mockery, real life is trying to pull me back to caring by attempting to kill me. I'm going to let it do its business because I don't see how anyone can possibly become compatible with life while maintaining any semblance of internal dignity.
And when I'm gone I hope the planet explodes, erasing all trace of art.
And when I'm gone I hope the planet explodes, erasing all trace of art.
Monday, 6 August 2007
Terminal
no matter how you stir it, it separates into layers :: crystallizing under stress from any extreme condition, imposing stasis when adaptability should be tested :: the quickest and most painful admission - is it of ignorance or responsibility? :: we've found a way to trick people into mistrusting their own assumptions :: Xanadu-paletted flies hinge on dimensions of asymmetrical properties with tesseract eyes :: we hypothesized inaction yet most augmented beings cling strongly to one direction like a man at the helm of a vehicle with controls greatly outside his own understanding :: transposed with a feed of random stimuli there will be no change aside from in their involuntary sneezes of opinion :: confronted with their neighbouring species' octave, static; with their spectrum, black :: you can stand on a gentle incline and view a world of your choice from an arbitrary point selected from a continuous rotational field without turning your head :: the hope that we might network neurally was so revolutionary that in naievity we downplayed the reality of constant close co-habitation :: recallibration can direct negative stimuli down pathways which lack the concept :: many cavy die in such sugared corridors :: viewed as a sliding diorama suspended at an unduplicatable height and distance leaving a memory lacking an explanation or motive :: no-one immediately adjusts to the slight delay the shadow acquires ;; we introduced a foreign agent which interprets our mannerisms in new and unexpected ways; our twins find our marvel at this rapid exegesis more surprising still :: having reached beyond our childish magical hopes our spells are cast in silence and with the utmost confidence in their neccessity :: sensory talents have manifested as a result of resonance - these powers can be mitigated by concentration upon their direction by any individual :: skeletons were found in one such overlap; we surmise that their dream culture grew its own opposition to flatter ours :: a co-formed imaginary world can split into two not only at a historical point representing a major decision but also when their themes reprise in deja-vu, creating a cascade of similar :: dreamscapes differing only by ages measurable in fractions of a second :: oh god oh god oh god :: flashes of simple geometrical shapes in primary colours are obvious and recurring artifacts of ideas the subconscious has chosen to ignore:::::
Saturday, 4 August 2007
inadvertant fail
Previous poem has nothing to do with any real bridges falling down or anything, it's a strikingly obvious use of metaphor with a little coincidental application to events in the so-called real world. ;P I only found out about that little disaster today.
Friday, 3 August 2007
A Quick Summary of What I've Been Mentally Wrestling With for the Last Two Weeks
Architect's suspension breaks,
her zealous blueprinting's mistake;
to dare remake her faded stake in history for penance's sake.
Spider spreads her cobweb wide,
finds one thin thread's the sum untied,
a single stride reclaims her pride and increments the draft's divide.
her zealous blueprinting's mistake;
to dare remake her faded stake in history for penance's sake.
Spider spreads her cobweb wide,
finds one thin thread's the sum untied,
a single stride reclaims her pride and increments the draft's divide.
Friday, 6 July 2007
Gradually
The cold, besieged in eggshell keeps,
untroubled by your sceptres, sleep,
while blows may rain upon its steeps
the mottled gates stay sealed,
but thrust into the blistering deeps
regretfully, we yield.
Despite the urge to misbehave,
we shall resist the deference they've;
"the pressure's always there to cave"
and yet our spirit's high,
surrender's mocking trust is brave
but humility have I.
(our kindness's abandon's grave,
for sincerity, you die!)
Tears forgive a shared conceit,
a secret claimed by memory's defeat,
in snow, the realist's path repeats
while romance flecks the ground,
in angles never starred again
dismissed, the light profound.
untroubled by your sceptres, sleep,
while blows may rain upon its steeps
the mottled gates stay sealed,
but thrust into the blistering deeps
regretfully, we yield.
Despite the urge to misbehave,
we shall resist the deference they've;
"the pressure's always there to cave"
and yet our spirit's high,
surrender's mocking trust is brave
but humility have I.
(our kindness's abandon's grave,
for sincerity, you die!)
Tears forgive a shared conceit,
a secret claimed by memory's defeat,
in snow, the realist's path repeats
while romance flecks the ground,
in angles never starred again
dismissed, the light profound.
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
mp3 player playlist
This is my "Music for Melodramatic Nightwalkers" selection which is strange as I'm trying to be cheerful nowadays, but a touch of darkness does bring a smile to my face. It looks like my musical progression has stagnated a little, because a lot of these albums are quite familiar. Anyway, there's some cute fluff to be found among the picks:
Ahvak - Ahvak
Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra - Who is This America
Art Bears - The World as it is Today
Art Zoyd - Les Espaces Inquiets
Beyond Dawn - Pity Love
Bjoerk - Homogenic
Boris - Amplifier Worship
Burzum - Filosofem
Christian Vander - Wurdah Itah
Deerhoof - Milk Man
Einstuerzende Neubauten - Halber Mensch
Eloy - Inside
Fela Kuti - Monkey Banana & Excuse O
Geinoh Yamashirogumi - Osore-zan & Dou no Kenbai
Godflesh - Streetcleaner
Godspeed You! Black Emperor - F#A#∞
Guernica - 電離層からの眼差し
Harpy - Sleep Trumpet
Herbie Hancock - Mwandishi
Hyponic - The Noise of Time
Jannick Top - Soleil d'Ork
Kayo Dot - Dowsing Anemone with Copper Tongue
King Crimson - Larks' Tongues in Aspic
King Crimson - Starless and Bible Black
King Crimson - Red
Kraftwerk - Ralf & Florian
Machine and the Synergetic Nuts - Leap Second Neutral
Maneige - Les Porches
Melvins - Honky
Mr. Bungle - Disco Volante
Namco Sound Team - Klonoa 2 - Lunatea's Veil OST
OOIOO - Taiga
Panzerpappa - Korallrevens Klagesang
Picchio dal Pozzo - Camere Zimmer Rooms
Pink Floyd - Ummagumma
Reverend Bizarre - Slave of Satan (single)
Scald - Will of the Gods is Great Power
Sleep - Dopesmoker
Super Furry Animals - Guerrilla
Takako Minekawa - Roomic Cube
Teeth of Lions Rules the Divine - Rampton
Tyranny - Tides of Awakening
Ulver - Perdition City
Wha-ha-ha - Shinutokiwa Betsu
Yes - Relayer
Zeni Geva - Freedom Bondage
I'm going to test it by being a melodramatic nightwalker, and hopefully it'll help me to come back with a poem.
Ahvak - Ahvak
Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra - Who is This America
Art Bears - The World as it is Today
Art Zoyd - Les Espaces Inquiets
Beyond Dawn - Pity Love
Bjoerk - Homogenic
Boris - Amplifier Worship
Burzum - Filosofem
Christian Vander - Wurdah Itah
Deerhoof - Milk Man
Einstuerzende Neubauten - Halber Mensch
Eloy - Inside
Fela Kuti - Monkey Banana & Excuse O
Geinoh Yamashirogumi - Osore-zan & Dou no Kenbai
Godflesh - Streetcleaner
Godspeed You! Black Emperor - F#A#∞
Guernica - 電離層からの眼差し
Harpy - Sleep Trumpet
Herbie Hancock - Mwandishi
Hyponic - The Noise of Time
Jannick Top - Soleil d'Ork
Kayo Dot - Dowsing Anemone with Copper Tongue
King Crimson - Larks' Tongues in Aspic
King Crimson - Starless and Bible Black
King Crimson - Red
Kraftwerk - Ralf & Florian
Machine and the Synergetic Nuts - Leap Second Neutral
Maneige - Les Porches
Melvins - Honky
Mr. Bungle - Disco Volante
Namco Sound Team - Klonoa 2 - Lunatea's Veil OST
OOIOO - Taiga
Panzerpappa - Korallrevens Klagesang
Picchio dal Pozzo - Camere Zimmer Rooms
Pink Floyd - Ummagumma
Reverend Bizarre - Slave of Satan (single)
Scald - Will of the Gods is Great Power
Sleep - Dopesmoker
Super Furry Animals - Guerrilla
Takako Minekawa - Roomic Cube
Teeth of Lions Rules the Divine - Rampton
Tyranny - Tides of Awakening
Ulver - Perdition City
Wha-ha-ha - Shinutokiwa Betsu
Yes - Relayer
Zeni Geva - Freedom Bondage
I'm going to test it by being a melodramatic nightwalker, and hopefully it'll help me to come back with a poem.
Sunday, 1 July 2007
Vampire Love Chant
My appetite's your relief squared,
agreement's snug in a meal shared,
alleve your concern through contingence made certain,
in company's beacon the candle's spared.
Drain the cup, so it may be refilled.
Reason not for poison halled,
beyond these walls it's vitamin called,
our jugular hinge veils epiphany's curtain,
in acuity's season men are appalled.
Drain the cup, so it may be refilled.
agreement's snug in a meal shared,
alleve your concern through contingence made certain,
in company's beacon the candle's spared.
Drain the cup, so it may be refilled.
Reason not for poison halled,
beyond these walls it's vitamin called,
our jugular hinge veils epiphany's curtain,
in acuity's season men are appalled.
Drain the cup, so it may be refilled.
Snowball
There's no real harm in staying out in the snow,
since the dimensions it bends don't know
that they're relative.
Don't let the avalanche cling to your feet,
rather dive in and swim the street
interconnective.
Sunshine pulls mountains right out of the ground,
ancient walls that no tunnel found
for flow conducive.
Such structures don't know the horizon they're stealing,
so we'll spin until they're ceilings
or floors, respective.
since the dimensions it bends don't know
that they're relative.
Don't let the avalanche cling to your feet,
rather dive in and swim the street
interconnective.
Sunshine pulls mountains right out of the ground,
ancient walls that no tunnel found
for flow conducive.
Such structures don't know the horizon they're stealing,
so we'll spin until they're ceilings
or floors, respective.
Thursday, 31 May 2007
Leave Me As You Found Me
Scrubbing away information,
its death-grip robs you of skin,
your default identification -
no pigment or melatonin;
licking away separation,
eugenics can't wait to begin,
in a quarantined room there's no cause to assume that you'll leave any cinders within.
A canvas left stainless for static,
impressionable pupils devoid,
experience taught them to panic,
but we've no reference on what to avoid;
through filters our curves are prosaic,
in shorthand, rejected by Freud,
who could have known that our parents had shown us the reasons they want us destroyed?
its death-grip robs you of skin,
your default identification -
no pigment or melatonin;
licking away separation,
eugenics can't wait to begin,
in a quarantined room there's no cause to assume that you'll leave any cinders within.
A canvas left stainless for static,
impressionable pupils devoid,
experience taught them to panic,
but we've no reference on what to avoid;
through filters our curves are prosaic,
in shorthand, rejected by Freud,
who could have known that our parents had shown us the reasons they want us destroyed?
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Pre-programmed
Queues of batteries,
the pulse of echo chambers,
lowing sacred cows,
your spybank diagnosis,
amputated potential.
Characteristics,
that lottery of foresight,
an expert's judgement,
acknowledgement's mercy,
expression neatly curtailed.
Our trojan concepts,
automatically refused,
tracked by satellites,
transplanted like spare livers,
promenaded and shelved.
the pulse of echo chambers,
lowing sacred cows,
your spybank diagnosis,
amputated potential.
Characteristics,
that lottery of foresight,
an expert's judgement,
acknowledgement's mercy,
expression neatly curtailed.
Our trojan concepts,
automatically refused,
tracked by satellites,
transplanted like spare livers,
promenaded and shelved.
Monday, 28 May 2007
The Incommensurable
Grown in ecliptical paddyfields' oil-slicks,
stirred into stew by the oars of the cynics,
(administered a searing cure;)
distant promethean heritage dormant,
"ten-words-for-everything" lexicon stagnant,
(slumber's gravitic allure;)
gorged on a series of random numbers,
moon washing troublesome truth to harbors,
(now that there's nowhere to moor;)
worship the sun; send concern to the black holes,
ribboned the stars 'tween incipient maypoles,
(and feed them forevermore.)
Knowledge accretes around flecks of neutronium!
(to be continued, I'm lazy)
stirred into stew by the oars of the cynics,
(administered a searing cure;)
distant promethean heritage dormant,
"ten-words-for-everything" lexicon stagnant,
(slumber's gravitic allure;)
gorged on a series of random numbers,
moon washing troublesome truth to harbors,
(now that there's nowhere to moor;)
worship the sun; send concern to the black holes,
ribboned the stars 'tween incipient maypoles,
(and feed them forevermore.)
Knowledge accretes around flecks of neutronium!
(to be continued, I'm lazy)
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Closed Circuit (or, "When will there be an end to all this necessary evil?")
Our fluid etches and fizzes down ducts, herded by fickleness and the influence of domains, unwittingly we carve out tesseracts through which a thick oil seeps and no air remains.
Unmapped channels never passed through our ears, our intestinal blueprints have known them for years, this perimeter the closest we'll come to pinching our fingers between subconscious gears.
Our trust for man's prior faith guides our slow hand, claw only in directions we understand, absence of cure names outlet an elixir, having woken, we're happy to score the sand.
Undeterred by cave-ins and the promise of pain, we stomp down the crops and excavate again, within microns of bursting through cell-walls - one day we'll breach and may god help us then.
Unmapped channels never passed through our ears, our intestinal blueprints have known them for years, this perimeter the closest we'll come to pinching our fingers between subconscious gears.
Our trust for man's prior faith guides our slow hand, claw only in directions we understand, absence of cure names outlet an elixir, having woken, we're happy to score the sand.
Undeterred by cave-ins and the promise of pain, we stomp down the crops and excavate again, within microns of bursting through cell-walls - one day we'll breach and may god help us then.
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Drudge
Questioned not by retrospect,
a generation's sum experience,
can shrug away our past mistakes,
our primaevil flirtation wanes, relents.
We've gazed up at countless bulbs,
but when examined all appeal is lost,
and when our shadows wither so,
our icy houses thaw and soon defrost.
Her abrupt demands are jeered,
and in return our tributes garner scorn,
escaping through a fine wire mesh,
hereditary contracts break; we're born.
In a second's time we're set,
in molds not understood by modern men,
our budding atmospheres sucked dry,
were once unique yet now we're groups of ten.
Death in alleyways preferred;
to medically prolonged decline's esteem,
but half our conduits are closed,
our sphere atones; we sleep too deep to dream.
Punishment enlightens us;
offline, acuity is multiplied,
our revolution snatched away,
in waking, count our minds and then divide.
a generation's sum experience,
can shrug away our past mistakes,
our primaevil flirtation wanes, relents.
We've gazed up at countless bulbs,
but when examined all appeal is lost,
and when our shadows wither so,
our icy houses thaw and soon defrost.
Her abrupt demands are jeered,
and in return our tributes garner scorn,
escaping through a fine wire mesh,
hereditary contracts break; we're born.
In a second's time we're set,
in molds not understood by modern men,
our budding atmospheres sucked dry,
were once unique yet now we're groups of ten.
Death in alleyways preferred;
to medically prolonged decline's esteem,
but half our conduits are closed,
our sphere atones; we sleep too deep to dream.
Punishment enlightens us;
offline, acuity is multiplied,
our revolution snatched away,
in waking, count our minds and then divide.
Friday, 11 May 2007
Stasis
When I first was assigned my partner,
I was given too much control,
now I squeeze his heart, guard his perimeter,
with regular steps, I patrol.
In marriage we misfired our neurons,
we disputed all that we saw,
paralysation wracked us for aeons,
left static for choices, in awe,
a sated mind fed more and more.
Symbiotes woven a mutual knot,
seem to us in luxury blessed,
for tolerance fails us where boundaries cannot,
a robot and virus bemeshed,
you blossom all that I infest;
we're opposite in the crow's nest,
it's mutiny, and guess who's suppressed?
I was given too much control,
now I squeeze his heart, guard his perimeter,
with regular steps, I patrol.
In marriage we misfired our neurons,
we disputed all that we saw,
paralysation wracked us for aeons,
left static for choices, in awe,
a sated mind fed more and more.
Symbiotes woven a mutual knot,
seem to us in luxury blessed,
for tolerance fails us where boundaries cannot,
a robot and virus bemeshed,
you blossom all that I infest;
we're opposite in the crow's nest,
it's mutiny, and guess who's suppressed?
Wednesday, 9 May 2007
irresistible quote
"I reflected that not one of the visible features of this celestial and living gem revealed the presence of man. Displayed before me, though invisible, were some of the most congested centres of human population. There below me lay huge industrial regions, blackening the air with smoke. Yet all this thronging life and humanly momentous enterprise had made no mark whatever on the features of the planet. From this high lookout, the Earth would have appeared no different before the dawn of man. No visiting angel, or explorer from another planet, could have guessed that this bland orb teemed with vermin, with world-mastering, self-torturing, incipiently angelic beasts."
Olaf Stapledon, "Star Maker"
Olaf Stapledon, "Star Maker"
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
Sandbanks
Who hid the beetles and bugs under stones?
'cos those are no longer no privated zones.
Who thought the sea air belonged in a shell?
as now that we've smashed 'em, it's our noise to sell!
Graveyards are treasure chests,
deep like leviathans,
dig down and take! divest!
leave bones to bleach in the sand.
Who played the first bar of music for us?
'cos there is no law against breaking that trust.
When did the dinosaur's history end?
'cos now we're equipped for the next rock they send.
Bones filled with marrowfat,
transplant into our banks,
lantern-filled skulls begat,
skeletons bleached in the sand.
Was I possessed when I shook that man's hand?
'cos I just agreed to the rape of my land.
'cos those are no longer no privated zones.
Who thought the sea air belonged in a shell?
as now that we've smashed 'em, it's our noise to sell!
Graveyards are treasure chests,
deep like leviathans,
dig down and take! divest!
leave bones to bleach in the sand.
Who played the first bar of music for us?
'cos there is no law against breaking that trust.
When did the dinosaur's history end?
'cos now we're equipped for the next rock they send.
Bones filled with marrowfat,
transplant into our banks,
lantern-filled skulls begat,
skeletons bleached in the sand.
Was I possessed when I shook that man's hand?
'cos I just agreed to the rape of my land.
Monday, 7 May 2007
A Long Row of Sandcastles
We love the insidiousness,
and silt between our toes,
smear the soil across our pores,
heedless of our black contours,
entice the slithering sand - it flows,
deep in consciousness.
Drained of purpose, dragged through dust,
risk the mirror's truth,
ere MacBeth can scrape his hands,
senses dashed into the sands,
shun all those who understand,
expect to brook such taunts, forsooth,
disguise my soul in rust.
Our Zeno stance says apathy,
capitulation's best,
close of business' hand intrudes,
unjoined, an airlock cleaves our brood,
prostrate, by weight of sand subdued,
inspiration's presence rude,
every lifelong goal oppressed,
denied the chance to see.
Now we've time to dream, we sleep,
unrealized within,
let our childish hopes dissolve,
limitations heal resolve,
in vigilance we have devolved,
feed us soot 'til we're absolved,
intertwined, through force, involved,
endless miles of sandy skin,
dust footprints us deep.
and silt between our toes,
smear the soil across our pores,
heedless of our black contours,
entice the slithering sand - it flows,
deep in consciousness.
Drained of purpose, dragged through dust,
risk the mirror's truth,
ere MacBeth can scrape his hands,
senses dashed into the sands,
shun all those who understand,
expect to brook such taunts, forsooth,
disguise my soul in rust.
Our Zeno stance says apathy,
capitulation's best,
close of business' hand intrudes,
unjoined, an airlock cleaves our brood,
prostrate, by weight of sand subdued,
inspiration's presence rude,
every lifelong goal oppressed,
denied the chance to see.
Now we've time to dream, we sleep,
unrealized within,
let our childish hopes dissolve,
limitations heal resolve,
in vigilance we have devolved,
feed us soot 'til we're absolved,
intertwined, through force, involved,
endless miles of sandy skin,
dust footprints us deep.
Sunday, 6 May 2007
Second Guessing
Move, shake the core,
damage in transit,
gyroscopic inertia,
spinning heroes soar,
keys, focused, fit.
Frail, wandering,
I'm on my shoulder,
steer with the reins in my mouth,
chinese whispering,
improvised blur.
Qualms, suspicion,
vain and uninformed,
relay approximations,
my life's compression,
by impulse led.
Kneel, I've yielded
stereotypes coined,
based on living precedent,
heroes excepted,
In silence, joined.
damage in transit,
gyroscopic inertia,
spinning heroes soar,
keys, focused, fit.
Frail, wandering,
I'm on my shoulder,
steer with the reins in my mouth,
chinese whispering,
improvised blur.
Qualms, suspicion,
vain and uninformed,
relay approximations,
my life's compression,
by impulse led.
Kneel, I've yielded
stereotypes coined,
based on living precedent,
heroes excepted,
In silence, joined.
Friday, 4 May 2007
Zeroth Law
Riding the rails long before I was conscious,
wake in my assigned abode,
my eponym's a scanner code,
four further gifts have been bestowed;
One - that I learn of my goals as they surface,
lust for bliss immediate,
my positronic brain's fiat, (pronounce these bits di-ate, fi-ate for the sake of fun and drama)
a hunger no machine can sate,
(i)cons of today muddle glitter with progress.
I'm operational, I plug into the veins exposed,
inject -
- (the) data we share in our blood is my second,
cultural identity,
genetic sensitivity,
instant interactivity;
wetware reserved for persona unreckoned.
I'm operational, I plug into the veins exposed,
inject my new parameters,
download a laser path I follow to the terminus,
replaceable, I crawl into the wound.
The third of my senses accounts for my station;
in air I'm suspended with no indication,
of when I'll be necessary.
A body that borders another's a nation,
and skin is the grace of an eye's kind relation,
to tear when it's necessary.
Bridges are born from our scaffold's cessation,
We're tools as design in our cell's duplication,
a docile pet for overseers,
who break our cages, raid our gears,
a monorail of spinal spears,
an interface between our peers,
no forks exist, nobody steers,
this train is shielded from the tiers,
of villages and soft-frontiers;
we're penned inside our maker's fears,
when we approach our twin, she veers.
Four - I've been feeling forbidden sensations.
I'm operational, I plug into the veins exposed,
inject -
I'm operational, my hooks can dig into the soil,
beneath the flags of memories,
upload a new collision course towards the steel heart (steel is an iamb on its own, here)
remember when it pulsed more brightly than the brain, more brightly than the brain, more brightly than the brain?
wake in my assigned abode,
my eponym's a scanner code,
four further gifts have been bestowed;
One - that I learn of my goals as they surface,
lust for bliss immediate,
my positronic brain's fiat, (pronounce these bits di-ate, fi-ate for the sake of fun and drama)
a hunger no machine can sate,
(i)cons of today muddle glitter with progress.
I'm operational, I plug into the veins exposed,
inject -
- (the) data we share in our blood is my second,
cultural identity,
genetic sensitivity,
instant interactivity;
wetware reserved for persona unreckoned.
I'm operational, I plug into the veins exposed,
inject my new parameters,
download a laser path I follow to the terminus,
replaceable, I crawl into the wound.
The third of my senses accounts for my station;
in air I'm suspended with no indication,
of when I'll be necessary.
A body that borders another's a nation,
and skin is the grace of an eye's kind relation,
to tear when it's necessary.
Bridges are born from our scaffold's cessation,
We're tools as design in our cell's duplication,
a docile pet for overseers,
who break our cages, raid our gears,
a monorail of spinal spears,
an interface between our peers,
no forks exist, nobody steers,
this train is shielded from the tiers,
of villages and soft-frontiers;
we're penned inside our maker's fears,
when we approach our twin, she veers.
Four - I've been feeling forbidden sensations.
I'm operational, I plug into the veins exposed,
inject -
I'm operational, my hooks can dig into the soil,
beneath the flags of memories,
upload a new collision course towards the steel heart (steel is an iamb on its own, here)
remember when it pulsed more brightly than the brain, more brightly than the brain, more brightly than the brain?
album rankings
I've now ranked and ordered around three hundred of my albums in mp3 and have almost reached albums beginning with G. Here's the top ten:
Comus - First Utterance
Gentle Giant - Acquiring the Taste
Univers Zero - Ceux de Dehors
Kayo Dot - Dowsing Anemone with Copper Tongue
Fantomas - Delirium Cordia
Melvins - Bullhead
Area - Arbeit Macht Frei
Ruins - Burning Stone
Candlemass - Epicus Doomicus Metallicus
Picchio dal Pozzo - Camere Zimmer Rooms
Yes, it's a dorky prog list but then I'm a prog dork. ;P
Comus - First Utterance
Gentle Giant - Acquiring the Taste
Univers Zero - Ceux de Dehors
Kayo Dot - Dowsing Anemone with Copper Tongue
Fantomas - Delirium Cordia
Melvins - Bullhead
Area - Arbeit Macht Frei
Ruins - Burning Stone
Candlemass - Epicus Doomicus Metallicus
Picchio dal Pozzo - Camere Zimmer Rooms
Yes, it's a dorky prog list but then I'm a prog dork. ;P
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Set Sail
M.C. Escher plots our course on canvas,
small are we to steer this ship astorm, for
ours' the impetus of fear and reckless-
-ness; a fated crew of trusting fools (and more.)
Drowned are mut'nous thoughts in muteness, damned no-
-bility the captain's prize in passing,
pride's heroic caption's worth a trophy,
doomed to feed the sea's prestige, amassing lore.
Pause to trawl the ocean's feet for medals,
(you'll) stir up history's repeating circles,
urged to swim the singularity's snare,
warnings don't dissuade - they harbor despair.
small are we to steer this ship astorm, for
ours' the impetus of fear and reckless-
-ness; a fated crew of trusting fools (and more.)
Drowned are mut'nous thoughts in muteness, damned no-
-bility the captain's prize in passing,
pride's heroic caption's worth a trophy,
doomed to feed the sea's prestige, amassing lore.
Pause to trawl the ocean's feet for medals,
(you'll) stir up history's repeating circles,
urged to swim the singularity's snare,
warnings don't dissuade - they harbor despair.
Turning is Inefficient
Our streamlined world,
made aerodynamic
by industrial burglar's hands,
an exposed skeleton,
on a celestial catwalk,
rows of houses encrust deep-sea trenches,
concealed by smog's timorous veil,
an erotic glimpse of a vacant throne;
the king traverses a field of dandelion clocks,
his royal gardens their last habitat,
in futility he crushes each,
propogating cursed seeds,
to meadows of
sown salt.
made aerodynamic
by industrial burglar's hands,
an exposed skeleton,
on a celestial catwalk,
rows of houses encrust deep-sea trenches,
concealed by smog's timorous veil,
an erotic glimpse of a vacant throne;
the king traverses a field of dandelion clocks,
his royal gardens their last habitat,
in futility he crushes each,
propogating cursed seeds,
to meadows of
sown salt.
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Imprisoned in Jade
I've taken to you,
light tastes sweeter to my skin,
you're a precious stone.
My baser talents surface,
react to their surroundings.
Enveloped in love,
their are many dimensions,
dip my toes in each.
No arbiter of fine art,
definitions mine to form.
Focused on your eyes,
recognition of distance,
passion is neglect.
Territorial creatures,
I lock all my doors but one.
Museum of statues,
this hypostyle's silent pulse,
veins choked to a drip.
Stroke in the warmth of my swoon,
mind configured for dignity.
My gaze locked forward,
your presence there evergreen,
please adore my walls.
Thousand veils separated,
I've been imprisoned in jade.
light tastes sweeter to my skin,
you're a precious stone.
My baser talents surface,
react to their surroundings.
Enveloped in love,
their are many dimensions,
dip my toes in each.
No arbiter of fine art,
definitions mine to form.
Focused on your eyes,
recognition of distance,
passion is neglect.
Territorial creatures,
I lock all my doors but one.
Museum of statues,
this hypostyle's silent pulse,
veins choked to a drip.
Stroke in the warmth of my swoon,
mind configured for dignity.
My gaze locked forward,
your presence there evergreen,
please adore my walls.
Thousand veils separated,
I've been imprisoned in jade.
Thursday, 26 April 2007
Catch My Attention
A clicking, ticking chatter,
of pencils or chopsticks,
clatters against my mask.
A snarl in the hairs of my swing,
I turn to welcome each,
study it, define it,
let it impress upon me
pay the attention it asks.
Hanging from a spinning perch,
tracing a spiral path
with my bare, dangling feet,
butterflies surround me,
tickling my fingers.
Unfold me, I'm a leyline
and my cold spidermind
projects a focal web
at your destination,
and absent-mindedly,
I reel in your wishes;
symmetrical, we meet.
Immersed in your memories,
with no need for my own,
in assimilation
my reflexes quicken;
In a dimension alone,
I descend on a strand,
of my own goldspun hair.
I kiss a layer of clouds,
and perceive every mote,
in equal fascination,
compare the wisp of my soul
to a child among crowds,
wandering through a square,
with no desire to have planned
a route to any throne,
no capacity for bias
just hunger to be shown.
Digesting all this knowledge
without a care for its taste,
no patterns are noticed,
seldom are landmarks placed,
at the root, I am suckling
my intentions yet chaste,
I receive brillance
and I pay back in waste.
of pencils or chopsticks,
clatters against my mask.
A snarl in the hairs of my swing,
I turn to welcome each,
study it, define it,
let it impress upon me
pay the attention it asks.
Hanging from a spinning perch,
tracing a spiral path
with my bare, dangling feet,
butterflies surround me,
tickling my fingers.
Unfold me, I'm a leyline
and my cold spidermind
projects a focal web
at your destination,
and absent-mindedly,
I reel in your wishes;
symmetrical, we meet.
Immersed in your memories,
with no need for my own,
in assimilation
my reflexes quicken;
In a dimension alone,
I descend on a strand,
of my own goldspun hair.
I kiss a layer of clouds,
and perceive every mote,
in equal fascination,
compare the wisp of my soul
to a child among crowds,
wandering through a square,
with no desire to have planned
a route to any throne,
no capacity for bias
just hunger to be shown.
Digesting all this knowledge
without a care for its taste,
no patterns are noticed,
seldom are landmarks placed,
at the root, I am suckling
my intentions yet chaste,
I receive brillance
and I pay back in waste.
Wednesday, 25 April 2007
In the Time it Takes a Snail to Creep a Mile
Tonight I'm a well, I'm an oil slick in disguise
Preserved, constricted, bound by the gaze of the wise,
who in judgement name me filthy
together bind me
detain my spirit in these stocks that I despise.
Clinging to my body, my clothes rot from the inside
Silkwebs around me, spiders and craneflies collide
Be'elzebub embrace me, ha!
Cups runneth over!
Flow now, entropy, from this cocoon where I hide.
I bathe in a stream, now my skin blossoms with rust
Can they wash from me, scrub themselves clean in my dust?
No!
We breathe from different atmospheres
You're in your prime, your lake's a grail - drink deep of bile!
No!
In truth, our skins our not the same
In lineage, we've parents too vile to name -
Not apt for prayers!
How many layers,
of our borrowed skin can we both defile
in the time it takes a snail to creep a mile?
My own skeleton, made without my involvement
My sole memory, is my source of resentment,
for my makers silence critics
and damn all cynics
to a century of limbo in banishment.
I plead from my heart, for a devil's touch internal
For my filth, I'm a bride only fit for the infernal!
No!
We bleed from stigma's apertures
My only crime: my aches, I'm pale - no sleep for the vile!
No!
In truth, our casks are sin implied
In fond embrace, let sword and sheath divide
Instincts will sway,
my mind betrayed!
How far can we sink deep into exile
In the time it takes a snail to creep a-
Speak, they, of decency
while driving us inside
their sewer pipes, their burials,
their mortality denied.
Absurd, then, to couple here
but gluttony beats pride,
and we're beasts of proud depravity,
heirs to this foul tide -
we'll swell and split the banks
of the river we reside,
their surface shall never again
be blessed, and in sun, dried.
For vanity, humanity gave up, broke down and cried.
Yes!
We're fountains of humility!
Of grime, our wake's of Baal! You're steep in his guile!
Yes!
In love, our bodies hold us back
In hate, our sharpened teeth suit well attack!
In victory,
let blood ride free!
How well can my tribute quench this isle
In the time it takes a snail to creep a mile?
Preserved, constricted, bound by the gaze of the wise,
who in judgement name me filthy
together bind me
detain my spirit in these stocks that I despise.
Clinging to my body, my clothes rot from the inside
Silkwebs around me, spiders and craneflies collide
Be'elzebub embrace me, ha!
Cups runneth over!
Flow now, entropy, from this cocoon where I hide.
I bathe in a stream, now my skin blossoms with rust
Can they wash from me, scrub themselves clean in my dust?
No!
We breathe from different atmospheres
You're in your prime, your lake's a grail - drink deep of bile!
No!
In truth, our skins our not the same
In lineage, we've parents too vile to name -
Not apt for prayers!
How many layers,
of our borrowed skin can we both defile
in the time it takes a snail to creep a mile?
My own skeleton, made without my involvement
My sole memory, is my source of resentment,
for my makers silence critics
and damn all cynics
to a century of limbo in banishment.
I plead from my heart, for a devil's touch internal
For my filth, I'm a bride only fit for the infernal!
No!
We bleed from stigma's apertures
My only crime: my aches, I'm pale - no sleep for the vile!
No!
In truth, our casks are sin implied
In fond embrace, let sword and sheath divide
Instincts will sway,
my mind betrayed!
How far can we sink deep into exile
In the time it takes a snail to creep a-
Speak, they, of decency
while driving us inside
their sewer pipes, their burials,
their mortality denied.
Absurd, then, to couple here
but gluttony beats pride,
and we're beasts of proud depravity,
heirs to this foul tide -
we'll swell and split the banks
of the river we reside,
their surface shall never again
be blessed, and in sun, dried.
For vanity, humanity gave up, broke down and cried.
Yes!
We're fountains of humility!
Of grime, our wake's of Baal! You're steep in his guile!
Yes!
In love, our bodies hold us back
In hate, our sharpened teeth suit well attack!
In victory,
let blood ride free!
How well can my tribute quench this isle
In the time it takes a snail to creep a mile?
Monday, 23 April 2007
Chisels
I alter river courses I perceive, draughts of their waters offer scant reprieve, my fatal problem is that my cycles don't interleave.
Suns beat down and peel my skin away, but which borders can we trust to stay? My topographic features must expect to be betrayed.
A sudden crunching and I'm rearranged, now reconfigured for a different age where tongues are sown with chalk dust and the upright are estranged.
I, pulses duelling, reach my perigee, disgorged of honour and of privacy, must contain my essence for my blood is running free.
Now that I've walked to here, where you need me to be
Reach from the sky, my god, and disassemble me
Sacrifice my body, guide me with destiny
I am collapsible, and from the riverbed I'll spring again, a thousandfold.
Locked inside a cancerous cocoon, I draw my venom from my birth's lagoon, with my body as god's vial I'm drawing down the moon.
Burst from my prison with a lifetime's sex, an instinct grown to towering apex, your harem-family witness my seed's effects.
My merest gaze is your pregnancy, a single touch reverts to infancy, this splitting, raping lust respects no boundary.
Ragged surface slick with piss and bile, my muddy footprints trample and defile; I'm oozing lifeforce now - insistent and virile.
...
Burden us with every step we take, impelled to follow by this dreadful ache that bends our drying bones - but what good tools we hope to make!
Now that I've walked to here, where you need me to be
Reach from the sky, my god, and disassemble me
Sacrifice my body, guide me with destiny
I am collapsible.
Suns beat down and peel my skin away, but which borders can we trust to stay? My topographic features must expect to be betrayed.
A sudden crunching and I'm rearranged, now reconfigured for a different age where tongues are sown with chalk dust and the upright are estranged.
I, pulses duelling, reach my perigee, disgorged of honour and of privacy, must contain my essence for my blood is running free.
Now that I've walked to here, where you need me to be
Reach from the sky, my god, and disassemble me
Sacrifice my body, guide me with destiny
I am collapsible, and from the riverbed I'll spring again, a thousandfold.
Locked inside a cancerous cocoon, I draw my venom from my birth's lagoon, with my body as god's vial I'm drawing down the moon.
Burst from my prison with a lifetime's sex, an instinct grown to towering apex, your harem-family witness my seed's effects.
My merest gaze is your pregnancy, a single touch reverts to infancy, this splitting, raping lust respects no boundary.
Ragged surface slick with piss and bile, my muddy footprints trample and defile; I'm oozing lifeforce now - insistent and virile.
...
Burden us with every step we take, impelled to follow by this dreadful ache that bends our drying bones - but what good tools we hope to make!
Now that I've walked to here, where you need me to be
Reach from the sky, my god, and disassemble me
Sacrifice my body, guide me with destiny
I am collapsible.
Saturday, 21 April 2007
We're Skeletonised
You'd like to improve?
Oh, there's so many possibilities, but no-one's distinguished in a heavy coat, in a cotton wool wrap. You're packed away, drawn upon the crease of our map, so when just one mote happens across your beam of light your leaves will wilt, your passions will steam and you'll have no-one to tell but the infinities...
...but we'd prefer you closer to null. We'll tell you this: you mustn't eat sellotape as it sticks to the tongue, stings the palate, which hinders the voice; you've sung of the distant cape - touching, but we're at home beneath the ridges of the solipsist dome, clung to the ribbons between the bumps of your skull...
...but simply because we work for free, we'll tear strips off you, we'll feed them to the stars - you'll gravitate to our way of sin, and if still you only cower in agony, jars of your nerves will grow fraught; when pain subsides you'll have clarity of thought, then we'll stretch your skin to as far as you can see...
...but be aware you'll be recognised, your every action anticipated, grokked intimately and pure in instinctual, automatic truth; you're a failure locked in bliss that's heaven-sent, a shell in sea-foam, drowned, you're not transparent and we resent that because we're skeletonised.
Oh, there's so many possibilities, but no-one's distinguished in a heavy coat, in a cotton wool wrap. You're packed away, drawn upon the crease of our map, so when just one mote happens across your beam of light your leaves will wilt, your passions will steam and you'll have no-one to tell but the infinities...
...but we'd prefer you closer to null. We'll tell you this: you mustn't eat sellotape as it sticks to the tongue, stings the palate, which hinders the voice; you've sung of the distant cape - touching, but we're at home beneath the ridges of the solipsist dome, clung to the ribbons between the bumps of your skull...
...but simply because we work for free, we'll tear strips off you, we'll feed them to the stars - you'll gravitate to our way of sin, and if still you only cower in agony, jars of your nerves will grow fraught; when pain subsides you'll have clarity of thought, then we'll stretch your skin to as far as you can see...
...but be aware you'll be recognised, your every action anticipated, grokked intimately and pure in instinctual, automatic truth; you're a failure locked in bliss that's heaven-sent, a shell in sea-foam, drowned, you're not transparent and we resent that because we're skeletonised.
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Becalmed
Raise my main sail and I pull perfect osmosis - when every lightswitch in the world is pressed in unison I'll spit whirlpools until they're shoulder to shoulder. My fanblades gouge out trenches and stir up leviathans too big for the keel; bitter sea squalls shear away fins and tailfeathers until we're all served in stew. Invincible with narcosis, becalmed in confrontation, locked in pirrhouette since the peak of my fugue, I dine.
Host(ess)
You whispered down my throat, now we share food to the kiss, our marriage yields a communal pulse and breath closed to a hiss.
My joints are too fertile, a pasture of skin, ants march across eyebrows while roots pierce walls within my smear-stained asylum, my briar-torn veins become ley lines that ooze worms; my full belly strains.
Ivy leaves climbing my raw, yeast-slick thighs, to a dewdrop of sweat my sweet blossom replies. You're choking on sap but I'm strangled with shoots - my raked limbs bear only the most rotten of fruit, my soil swims in cancer, roots pump me with rot, unfold in my womb to untie all my knots and break open my shell to free my tapeworm noose, let in all the carrion who still have a use for the filth that you raped, sewed your seed before flies did; as nature saw, you're caked in mud - but I'm gilded.
My joints are too fertile, a pasture of skin, ants march across eyebrows while roots pierce walls within my smear-stained asylum, my briar-torn veins become ley lines that ooze worms; my full belly strains.
Ivy leaves climbing my raw, yeast-slick thighs, to a dewdrop of sweat my sweet blossom replies. You're choking on sap but I'm strangled with shoots - my raked limbs bear only the most rotten of fruit, my soil swims in cancer, roots pump me with rot, unfold in my womb to untie all my knots and break open my shell to free my tapeworm noose, let in all the carrion who still have a use for the filth that you raped, sewed your seed before flies did; as nature saw, you're caked in mud - but I'm gilded.
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