Scream

This writing is futile
I can’t express how I feel
Not in so many words
I’d like to take my pain
Roll it into a ball
And stuff it down your throat
So you’d be mute like me
Your seams leaking
Blotting your copy book
With a silent crimson scream
.

Speed Bomb

awkward high <> like a speed bomb that went down the wrong way <> all new oblique angles <> strange dimensions and hollows <> each crevice a new expression in feeling <> strange there should be new situations to chart <> this late in the game <> a familiar sickly taste <> with a different flavour <> impossible to quantify <> pleasure and pain <> this knife cuts both ways <> unease has become an art form <> the pool is still <> but under lurks <> a drowning <> a car crash <> a train wreck <> a fucking catastrophe <> if it’s true <> it’s not true <> but what if it is true? <> get a grip <> your morbid imagination will be the death of you <> that which you fear <> you draw to you <> you have to reach for the man within <> or be the man without <> keep a sceptical eye on the bad news <> favour the good thing <> catch that positive curve <> slide in under the barriers <> when the bogey man looks away

.

Dolphin

He once failed a micro flocculation test. It came back positive for syphilis. He said it was the last time he ever paid for sex – the whores on Cockburn Street were riddled with the pox. I was feeling decidedly antsy – crank bugs from the blue flake – Peruvian magic dust, the finest money could buy, ninety percent pure, or so he said.

A creeping numbness spread through my limbs, my heart beat like a hammer and my mouth was dry as dust. He fuzzed in and out of focus for a moment and I listened as he traced the contours of depravity like a veteran whore master. “We are all whores,” he pronounced, “Everyone has their price. The only question is how much?”

We snorted some more charlie and he scratched his crotch with obscenely dirty fingernails. He said he’d just as soon fuck a hairy arsed boy as a beautiful woman and he eyed me salaciously. He seemed brutal and repugnant to my young eyes. He spoke with all the eloquence of a rabid baboon; “In this business you have to be like a shark. You have to be cold and ruthless. I understand these people ‘cause I’m a shark too.” It was then I realised for the first time that I was a dolphin.

.

.

Necrophiliac

poor boy has a gimmick
he contacts the deceased
with glass beads
and cardboard figurines
his memory resurrects
the dear departed
through necromancy
and bad poetry
he disarms them
with his european smile
and easy charm
but his smooth patois
conceals a deep distrust
of the living
and morbid fascination
with the dead
.

Euthanize

treatment is symptomatic
there is no cure
no wonder drug
no universal panacea
just elemental narcotics
to ease the pain
of twisted nerves
in a deviant body
a little chicken soup

for a tortured soul

who conjured up this
slouching abomination?
his furrowed brow
and unnatural posture
speak of untold burdens
so feed him, free him
turn him loose
put a bullet in his brain pan
and bid him farewell
.

Voiceless

Poor Boy looked into the sky and said:
“Oh God, please get me outta here...”
But God did not hear him
The distance

Between

        Heaven and Earth

Being what it is

Silenced at birth by unseen hands
It was more than just the money
(or lack of it)
There was a poverty of spirit
And a quiet sense of shame
That couldn’t be erased
He was a sounding brass
A hollowed out man
Just one of billions 
Stuffed down the crapper
The justice in that
For the moment escaped him
.

Undertow

cancellations will occur      due to unforeseen circumstances      I’m coughing my guts up     a gasping clearance     of the regurgitate     burning reflux     that’s a choking sign     many are the good men     who drowned in their own vomit     that’s not the way      I want to go 

the final slumber     the open gate     there’s an easy route       to accidental escape        gluttony and carelessness      don’t swim too far       there’s a shallow shelf      then it gets real deep       the undertow will drag you down     beware the undertow      drag you down

.

Indica

Lend me your implosion

Spin me some indica

Light me a sensitizer

Pass it on quick

I’m not long for this dimension

Give me metabolic connections

To the man within

Direct me through the proper channels

To the district coordinator

For the living dead/undead

The lean mean concrete machine

Is grinding me down

Dehumanised and processed

Into human pate

I got the F-E-A-R

Chronic

.

Ghosts

Chaos bless them – prisoners of the winter skies who await the settling of the sun when night sings songs of damage and pain. Silence seeps from the cracks of less well-ordered lives to soak the heart and stain the soul. There are those who would not trade their sadness for joy, but would hold it dear for it denotes the passing of something precious. There are some who would hold the empty night close to their hearts as the only remnants of loves lost, or dreams that died. They would eschew the dawn preferring the company of ghosts.

Other

The other was inspired by the devil, the devil was inspired by Oscar Wilde. He spiked him with the promise of eternal youth – he would never be old and he’d never face death. He became the other by chance while bathing in his own splendour at the age of nineteen. That’s when he discovered he had this thing for the girls and they reciprocated quite regularly.

Soon he was way too big for his own boots and boy did he love it all. He hung with the outsiders, because birds of a feather hang together. He learned that rules were written – only to be broken. That’s a delicious thrill – the taboo in you being torn from its nest. He did it all and, for good measure, more than once. He was slick as Casanova and as bad as Jesse James. Off he went lickety split, the other knew the dance, but the devil called the tune.

.

Never… Perhaps…

I was never...
but yes
I was once
when it was forbidden
a stranger’s embrace

that forgotten name
did we ever?
more than once
to test the flesh
and taste the sweat

there was one
penetrated the illusion
with subtle grace
asked the question
are you for real?

the answer confusion
cat had my tongue
I lit for the shadow
I was once yes
but now am undone

I was always real
I just did not know
the futility of play
sampling the real
I lost my way

tomorrow

not

    tomorrow

but yesterday

think that I must
I was never...
but yes,
I think I once was
.

Ecstasy

 

It was good gear; less speedy than a Mitsubishi, but with a cerebral buzz on the top and a heavy body hit like the ecstasy of old. It delivered its silky messages through the loving membrane to the centre of my brain with a herald of triumphant feathered horns. Liquid ease poured through my veins as smoothly as warm treacle. My head was as open and clear as a Sunday morning hush; my bells were ringing in celebration. It was good gear alright, and it tinkled with expectation.

 

The phone trilled musically – so I answered it. I recognised the voice immediately, it was my ex, and she was out to break my balls.

 

“I’ve seen you with that girl and you disgust me” she shrilled.

 

She needn’t have looked. No-one forced her to look, she was just nosey. She cranked it up a level – strictly for my benefit. I held the receiver away from my bloody ear. She had to vent her spleen;

 

“There is a word for men like you – you’re a pervert!” she concluded.

 

Seventeen in leather boots; I must’ve been out of my mind. She was my Lolita moment, forbidden fruit fresh on the vine; I couldn’t help but take a bite. I was old enough to be her father, maybe that was the point, I didn’t ask. We asked no questions and we told no lies. I mounted her like a billy goat. I had the situation well in hand – a few sharp thrusts – a few long strokes... I was slippery to the hilt, she made cooing noises.

 

Those budding breasts, emerging fleshy pears, all smooth and jiggling, were a feast for my hungry eyes. There was the sloppy slap of sodden groins; the strain of muscle and sinew, my senses where alive to her scent, her essence. All concentration went to the pulse at the centre of my being – my throbbing cock. The moment stretched and arrested. My cock, my monument to virility, exploded disgorging a million incendiaries into her womb. Cool shards of ecstasy foamed through our bodies with orgasmic delight. We collapsed back onto the bed – all spent and tingling like electric eels. We expanded into the night to become all the lovers in all the world.

 

I salute you Madame. Here’s to your brace of porcine offspring and their ashtray faced urchins. Take a drag sweet lady, there is nothing like this at sea, just sweaty hands and a quick rubdown with a wet sponge. I am a pervert. I’m a cradle snatcher – indecent and rapacious.

 

“That’s good gear” I said

 

“Where did you get it?”

 

“From Santa Clause” She replied

 

“Enough said”

 

She liked to dance and I liked to watch her dance. Her moves were purely sexual, not everybody can dance that way. She was going through a pupation; the final emergence of her sex. She was pretty basic in that she didn’t play games. I liked it like that. I had enough complication in my life.

When she’d come over we’d talk a little and then we’d cop some E’s and fuck all night. She’d dance for me and we’d dance together; then we’d fuck some more.

 

Dancing naked is a freeing experience, you feel quite exposed. You feel you are doing something primal, magical, but it’s no good on your own - you need a partner, one at least. That’s the beauty of ecstasy – it frees you up to the possibility of self expression without inhibition.

 

“Ever smoked an E?” She asked.

 

“Smoked it?” I enquired.

 

“Yeah, crush it into pipe and smoke it”.

 

“No – never”

 

“Wanna try?” She asked

 

“Yeah – go for it” I replied.

 

I’ll try anything once and twice for good measure. I took a blast, I took some more. It felt good; a thousand doves fanned my lungs and spread their soft wings across my heart. My blood surged with electrical potential into my fevered brain and pulsed in easy beats to the rhythm of my heart. Something magical seeped into my eager flesh and I felt as buoyant as a cloud. I shed warm rain from my opened pores and unfolded out into the universe like a hungry flower.

 

“This is good” I oozed.

 

“Told you” – she had.

 

“This is fabulous”

 

“It’s great, but it doesn’t last long” she said.

 

“Nothing good ever does” I replied.

 

She was candy sweet, my Georgia peach. The world revolved on  those slender hips. She lit me up and gladdened my heart. We frolicked as children in the summer sun and for one brief season we were the best of pals. But summers end in autumn leaves and our autumn arrived all too soon.

“I’ll never forget you.”

It was a bombshell. I knew it was over. She hadn’t said as much, but she was already thinking of me in the past tense. I had always known it would come. I’m a realist. However, I hadn’t anticipated the sinking sensation that gripped my heart. I took it on the chin though and kept the beat.

“And I’ll never forget you.”

 

With 20/20 I can see that it was a learning experience for us both. Our covert assignations were thrilling and instructive. She learned to wield her power as a woman. I learned to love with a lighter touch. We both received as much as we gave and I have only fond memories of her.

The days receded as summer dwindled. Things were winding down and she came around less frequently. There was no discussion, no heart-searching, no tears. We never said goodbye – she just stopped visiting. I never saw her again, but I never did forget.