29 June 2011

Mr Natural


Fuck you, fuck you and fuck you too! I write in the working class idiom blunt as a broken nose – plain as the blood on your flat fucking face. Eat my words suckers – I can deliver ‘em at light speed – hard enough to penetrate that thick skull of yours and jangle your cerebellum in the resonant frequency of your unconscious mind. It’s easier for me that way – ‘cause let's face it – your conscious mind is a shanty built on a landfill site. That psyche of yours wasn’t just constructed from second hand ideas, but from the shit that other people threw away. One decent rain will wash you away to the sewer where your dreams reside in the fecund detritus of a billion assholes. Man if I were to tap you in your waking gonads your tears would wash you way into the forevermore.

If I could draw a picture for you, so that you could see the difference between you and me, I would ram it down your idiot throat just to shut your ugly maw. I swear by all that’s natural that we’re a different species you and I. You’re learning how to steal, I’m learning how to give. You’re learning how to die, I’m learning how to live. 

Rhythm! I’ve taken every fraction and reduced the whole question to rhetoric and then into science. Testing every imaginable hypothesis and adhering religiously to the strictures of the rhythm method. I have established that my space cadet is from Venus and your monkey man is from Mars. You walk like a honky mother fucker and dance like a cissy bitch – you got no rhythm – you’re all angles and corners - ‘cause baby you are square. 

23 June 2011

Amon Ra



I didn’t see him, not at first, I didn’t see him, or I would have turned away. Icy cold snakes coiled in embarrassing silence, they spilled from the pit of my stomach and slithered away in disgust. If I’d seen him first, but I didn’t, I just turned around and he was there – a nauseating, heart stopping electric jolt of a man.

My blood blanched when a flicker of recognition crossed that vacant smile and impassive gaze and he once more held me thralled in his headlights. Then I remembered who he was, what I’ve seen him do, and I just wanted to laugh. He’s Amon Ra and Amon Ra don’t come round here no more. I wasn’t afraid, really, I wasn’t afraid, just mesmerized by the symmetry of his stripes and his cold dead eyes.

I’m thinking Amon Rah was a mean junkie bitch, with a bad case of temper which allowed him to lay on women and children. So I smote the bitch with my cosmic imagery and Rasta radiation. I fixed him in the constellations with my size 10 atomic boots and lit a big bad Bob Marley. Amon Rah? Amon Ra don’t come round here no more.



16 June 2011




May I just say, strictly in confidence you understand - just between you and I, and I would not dream of saying this to another living soul, but with circumstances being what they are I really feel I must say something. Heaven knows I don’t like to pry; I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. I’m not one for tittle tattle, I’m no gossip, but I’m bound to say and with a certain amount of justification, I think that you’ll agree, that something must be said. With the situation being what it is, and it’s for that reason only, I think I can confide in you – I can confide in you? Good, well as you know it’s being going on for some time now and I feel it’s time someone said something, don’t you? Far be it from me to judge, it’s hardly a question of blame, it’s just that things have reached a point where someone must say something. I think that it might be good to get things out in the open. I’m sure you agree that it just can’t go on like this indefinitely and sooner or later someone will have to speak out and while I’m reluctant to be that person, it’s hardly a task I relish, I think that time has come. I’m sure you can see that beating about the bush can only prolong the matter and there is no point in postponing the inevitable. You do agree, don’t you? I’m glad we understand each other. I can see we have reached an understanding – no need to say anymore. Mum’s the word, you can trust me. I won’t say a dicky bird; this will not leave this room. Thank you for hearing me out. I’m so glad to have gotten that off my chest.