Vile Rage

Boys will be boys will not be good enough. In the grips of violence and vile pretense. EThe Rock apes dance like ungrateful cannon fodder, the physic of wretched fools. Fancy it’s time to stop these crimes and quit the Nancy reactions like ‘It’s just a of fun’ till someone cops a flare to the face.

But really that is no care to me, I worry the more than insidious. That hideous tale boys tell their boys ‘winner is the only one that deserves respect and to all others neglect.’

No I don’t respect your victories. I don’t respect the misery you claim mirrors nothing you do. No I don’t respect any dialect that protects fools who remain foolish. I don’t accept differing opinions when it comes to this position, not when children are the victims. I don’t care for the size of your car’s Pistons. I don’t care for ‘no such thing as rape’ 

In truth I’d duck tape you down so you can’t make a sound, put a round to your head and break  your legs.

No, I have no mercy for your lack of curtiousy. Actually you deserve me the vulgar queen. Your sins aren’t yours, no simply your flaws, no clause of law will save you. You’re just a slave too. Pity where pity is due but litanies and mantras do not excuse you, I can match any vigor for belligerency. There is no such thing as a dress too short that you ought abuse.

‘So what’s up buttercup?’ Utter scum, I won’t stop at one, not done till no son is left dumb and no daughter ought to fear the smear of an XY peer.

Let’s be clear, rear Devils, I will level you.




I have a strange envisaged dream, it’s in the smallest of suitcases at the height of excitement. The world a tantalizing matter of hours away, the hotel rooms filling and fast, the mad dash for a taxi cab at some ghastly hour when every thought of home is put aside for the trip and the thrill of arrival.
In those late sleepy times I see myself clutching a whiskey or similar night time beverage, the warmth from the aroma of it fills my nostrils and calms me more than the mini sized comforts of a hotel room ever could.
This is truly free time. quiet ‘free time’ for a few hours at least the quits it’s onslaught of ideas on how to kill time, stops, and pulls the trigger. Here the electronic ring before the casing echoes off the floor, there is a moment of serenity.

Another 5 hours and $25 dollars pass and in the dream I’m heading toward a side of the world I have only seen through slighted memorabilia and misunderstood charms. So I want the truth, seems a natural cliché a writer capturing the details of a culture so other that it is a fantasy to which the other them-self is deluded.

But details are the devils work, no in this echoing free time I capture the unseen vibe and fumbling of people within their skin; Cool cats, too nimble for the eyes of normal.
While tired eyes mingle with the next dream, I sit drinking from the glass till either chapter or the booze finishes me off for the night.

🎋 🎍

Lights in the Dark

See how easily it takes over friends? The numbness and rabble of everyday news tragedy and immoral breaches to anyone considered normal. With all these pains what is normal? Should I wish to break through the standard parables and glimpse a few dimensions higher, maybe just to feel the weight of it. The energetic movement and co-ordination that came from placing this beautiful universe into action with a will and a wave of the hand, that these tragedies happen for so little is sickly.

But in a moment of recognition, realizing all you had to do was move your finger to the left and the world unfoldeth hundredfold differently, is that not a light to balance the spires of dark we hear from the horizon.


We’re So Very Glad to Meet you

When the moon says ‘goodnight’ you will see my hands grasping yours on a sun lit bed. When the earth’s trials count us among the lucky I will hold you in that bitter winter. When our species wide senescence rolls back like a undertow on our fate’s shore, I’ll stand with you on that gloomy beach gazing upon the nuclear winter.
Let’s play cards on the devils doorstep, and drink to our downfall.

Come with me and make your own rules. Call the shots with the moon as your syn-chronic guide, forget the deities that led us astray and contract the worries of the world for another day. All in all we’re all caught in a gracious current that may carry us where we will. Why call shots when we wake worried and wily? Why counter callous actions through wild eyes and crippled lungs? Why worry at all for the exhilaration of a wiry world, when the wires and dire straights could cremate us all in seconds, why crack wise with a consumer disguise?
Butterflies flap there wings to a cosmic time scale and were underwater. Yet drowning we remain manifesting self-fury.
Come with me and see new rules revised. Where do you turn when the world weighs wayward on the horizon? Where else but turn up to cloud-ridden heads and heavy bar top hearts? Watch me hide with the most cautious crooks and cling to life extremophile style.
Where can we turn as the trials do pile, where do miles become empty styles human milestones left no living rivals?
Simply we boast.
I toast simply to the mire that stands before us and the hell we must bust through, but I’ve played cards with a demon or two, they’ll be very happy to meet you.

Well play your words your rules.

🎐 📼


Winter lets me know I’m real. As I pass the place that she knew and used, under the fig trees she figured out her due doubts, sundered in two.
She had one thing of a few that she knew, now, at least how to feel real. And 4 or 3 later she is pattering around the edge of matter and consequence. I seek recompense from henceforth, she hit the peck ages ago and now the creaking floor boards that she poured her tensity onto in every last bitty litty bit sit moored.
it was her litany and he remembers just how lies got let loose the mutiny was caused by the pauses between the clauses of the sentences exchanged… and strange how dangerous talking can be.

See, now stalking a stranger, her Facebook has majorly changed she’s cooked and estranged from the girl hurled into intensity curled like the pinky of propensity around her sanity.

The vanity was only a product of her improper conduct, and struck he is in the muck and grime that maybe in the time beyond school you’re more of a fool. We were blessed to be climbing with the best of friends, not those you may close your interests on later, see mate the, alligators are, out in number, but our minds are still under the clout of slumber. Just without the hunger.
And without the same doubt she made a blunder.
but one hundred years will pass and a close group of peers would still bring the truth nearer to your ears than the jeers, cheers, sneers from those only linked by beers.

🎐 🍙


To forgive, I give my all on returns of nothing at all. I sit in pits of my own making, quiet places escaping relating.

Call me crazy I wish for a call maybe. ‘Nothing major, none necessary, I’m fine really.’

I find comfort in same old but fear growing old with the same boldness, all this in the hopes of not walking through gray walls.
Who could wonder it’s all green texts every month, from friends I knew once. Who could be blunter?
I’d kill for my lost wonder the kind of delinquence, I once had in crystal castles, missing a part of life though the years for it have past.
I see-saw, the next five years remain my most imagined picture, though much brighter it is, I catch myself lighting spliffs to forget that this is it, my only go at shit’s creek.

What is twenty something without something wrong? I know it all too well that ‘hell it’s nothing.’
I’d catch a siren to see your most treasured diamonds.
I ask only second of your time, then forget me, I get it.
See my faults are clear in my eyes, practically begging you to tear down my disguise and see my inner child behind, making worlds in a head that should be pressed to bed covers.
I don’t want to be all the others, brothers that don’t bother and sisters that would rather get pissed every other night.
I prey to a God I don’t believe in, even commit mortal sins all for a chance to grin with a dancing hymn.
For banter without chunder in a bit.

For an answer.
For a ‘hello how you been?’
I often get intimidating, a moniker I’ve never related to.
Mostly, because I’m just as scared as you.
Through and through, I’m beginning to think you don’t think it applies to me too.
The mountains I would move to make you think otherwise.
Techno my only managed relation, is it my fate to walk the city streets alone?
all dressed up with nowhere to go but a café where my order is all they know?
‘You’re a loser bro!’
‘Don’t you know we’ve all moved on.’

I wonder what’s my new favourite song?


Dart Hearts

Today you try once again to leg go of a crutch you’ve held for far too long. So write this in honour to the longest love of your life, she was there always no matter where your heart would roam, you would come back to her battered and she’d be all the more willing to make you happier, but not without the sharp dry wind that subtly reminds you.
‘You dun fucked up.’
She would seem like the perfect lover but she’ll deceive you, I suppose it’s only fair when you’ve felt her hair so many times while another is sitting right there, you felt her kiss and assumed no remiss, so it’s not surprising she’s cheating on you and with that other girl too.
Then she’s not so special sitting there on the mantel but she’s got her sting in you, now try go a second without asking when you’re gonna see her again.
Then you walking into an alley and she’s dallied out and you’re tongue tied, you won’t bide your time any longer.
‘I thought you were mine?’
But in the end were all trying to pleasure this mistress.

And we all have our little tricks just to make her wink in our vicinity and stroll up casually and plant a light hearted and headed kiss on us.

And for an instant we remember why started it, this cruel love affair, there everywhere you go. But you wake the next morning and you’ll tell her it’s over, that she’s bad for you throw her across the room, and beat her, but when she’s shoots you a stare and you’re right back there, lying in bed with her on top.
Subconsciously beg her to stop, but your hand drops limp while the other remains to hold her in cause you’re so scared to lose her.
What a fuckless comfort.

You push her of when she’s done; you tried your ways to make her more playful even though the lord our saviour already knows missionary is the only thing that fills thee. Blimey you got in this again.
‘fuck how did it happen again’
you see you’re friends who steered clear of her and you remember telling them, how much she soothes your worries and cares on through.

Now how they gaze at you so glued to the alleys and lanes, hell even windows just for a chance to dance with her again. She has MJ’s moves just not his voice.
Eventually you realise reality, you’re addicted to the she-devil, you’d admit it but all attempt to level yourself and keep your distance fail. Even when you work in your butts and spliffs and your move on has just begun she don’t just begone because she misses you and your clothes still smell like her, from all those late nights when she was the only one at the end lying in your arms, locking palms.
All those threesomes she was only so gleesome to bring you to, or bring her to, can’t really tell can you?
You’ll rinse your clothes a thousand times and your hair a thousand more, but smell you will, evermore.
Everybody gave you the warnings boy.
‘Don’t toy with her! She’s poison to your mental and toxic from the first kiss silly.’
But she seems to appear everywhere now just as her musk cloud that surrounds you has dissipated; you smell it on every second cunt…
‘Oh fuck it.’
‘You’re a fucking bitch, I thought we swore an oath at the start of this shit, you promised me I’d be cool, you forced me over boundary lines to many times and I’m sick in the stomach and sick of your shit.
Your breath is rancid anyway and while you’re fucking my friends you’re mind fucking me with glee because you know you got me, harhar Tartar.
Aren’t you funny you stupid gateway whore, the fuck do I pay you for?’
‘Why do you pay me so handsomely?’
‘Because deep down I’m still addicted to the way you bring me to my knees, praying, please make this train.’
When we kiss in the rain, nothing could ever be the same.
‘Sorry I’m leaving before you ruin my brain.’
‘I hope you do the same.’

👘 🍙 🐾