faith expands-doubt contracts.(the chamber-outside-of-time)
Vertebrae.Vatic spheres.Vaulted forests.
Ganymede. Runnymede.
Turbulent poltergeist.
Galatassary. Luminary. Radiant spasm.
Numinous song.Unstable paradox.
Garrulous.
Endoscope.Ceremonious oration.Goetic trance.
(The chamber-outside-time.)
The chamber-outside-time is circular.In the middle of the room is a vision-bowl.Wraith-like vapours rise from the vision-bowl.There are pillows and divans surrounding the vision-bowl. The room is luxurious, opulent but not overbearingly so.To look into the vision bowl is to become transfixed by its visions.To become transfixed by the visions is to be incarnate. Within space-time.If, by some act of ferocious will or magical force a person manages to tear his gaze from the vision-bowl he will find himself back in the chamber-outside-time.
Mongol horde.Forest on fire.Détente.
How to keep life new. How to keep it from petrifying.Nectarine.The eyes cloud over. The sense clogged. How to prevent this.What act of mental alchemy. Unicorn.
Dog-rose dawn.See tenderly.To be tender,Without sentimentality.
Tender as moonbeams.
Gods fighting in heaven,Send their followers to battle on earth.
Monastic time.Heron on the riverbank.Runcorn. Rubicon. Parsimonious adventurer.
To love.Cherish.Seed of loveHeart-openings.
Ragged sunbeam
Grace. I believe in you.Walk with me.Unconscious, lumbering giants.
Chimes of the heart,Immemorial fire.
Leave it behind.Carry on.There is no return.Under the banyan tree.
How is itThat what once gave such simple joyIs sullied?Corrupted regions of the heart.So that what once nourishedPoisons?
Dead man.Foxgloves sprout from his chest.
Doubt chokes our delight.Defiles our joys.
This process, distinct and certain enough to be law, stated in an elegant equation.
Strangled joys, doubt, fear, questioningMake a dark labyrinth of mindBlot out the light.
How to live?In graceThis, simple benedictionIs all we ask for.
How to love,To value
To fight our way, ragged and blinking, out of spiralling labyrinthsBranching cave-complexes, discordBranchingBroken.Cracked mirrorsLife’s distorted reflection.
In passages which grow ever narrower, with ceilings ever lowerLabyrinth without a centrePaths multiplying.Splits and divisionsWhich multiply, branch offFrom that first, initial division,The first splitting of the waysTill finding our way back comes to seem almostimpossible.Broken down, sobbingCrouched, bent double, wracked with tears, in the dark and narrow passageDespairing.Lost.
So many ways to lose the way.So many ways to be lost.
Now the angels seem terrifying.We, driven underground, underlings, shy from the lightShun it,Secretly want it, fearfully.
What I want, to becomeA sunbeam,Not ashamed.
My eyes are tired.
Revive me.
Kiss my eyelids.
Sun-drenched piazzas.Rejoicing in wide open spaces.Eyelids respond, to the weight of your lipsA river, bounding over rocks and bouldersWater, clear, pure, vivacious.
Broken animals chase the rivers.Famished.Haunted.Heart-broken.
In unfamiliar surroundingsTall building rear up, as ferocious as mountainsPressured, borne down upon.Arbroath.Metallurgy,Till pleasure feels like pain
And we writhe, kick and flail at its touchAs if tormented by it, lashed and burnt by it.
Sky of extinguished stars.Doors locked behind us.No going back.Bitter, bitter
One last sunset,
The gods and goddesses invoked spurned the invitationNo bliss.No ecstasy.Blank, empty. Cold of heart.Cold, wet ashes.Sackcloth. Factory seconds.
Unable to live.Defeat.
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there are innumerable answers to any one question. all are true. all are false.I contracted a rare tropical disease. my face grew purple and my temperature soared.later I swam in the canal to refresh my spirits. I drank blue champagne with terry and threw stones at the stray cats. terry found, like, half a cigarette some punter had thrown away! the lucky bastard!I was running as fast as I could. I slipped and fell heavily to the ground. small pieces of gravel got lodged in my knee. I was bleeding from my knees and elbows. a group of glowering Cossacks approached me with their scimitars drawn. I was nervous but they were very friendly. they had seen me trip and as one was carrying sticking plasters and some antiseptic they had come over to help. I was very grateful for their kindness.people can be kind. people are often surprised at their own kindness.I, on the other hand, am no longer human. and, although this allows me to perform superhuman feats and furnishes me with an unnatural wisdom I, like Prometheus before me, have been punished.I am terrified.dank forests in which elderly oaks are wrapped in blankets of warm ivy. virile bushes with flowers like the heads of peacocks. saplings poised in positions of balletic grace. brightly coloured beetles swarm over the rotten fallen trees. sunlight enters the forest, filtered through the yellow leaves.evocation. invocation. involution.in towers of our own design we plot the overthrow of tyrants.delirious with conspiracy we pore over the plans of the palace. we drink coffee and talk fervently until the early hours of the morning. I walk home as the sun is rising, through fields damp with dew, where spiders are constructing their delicate traps and the besuited ants are already about their business.‘it is my job to empty the king’s chamberpot’ he announced with pride. we shall torture him.apostates grow thin and desperate outside the city gates.a necklace of larks tongues.the sound of statues being dismantled. the reckless joy of destroying our own history.owls with startled eyes look down on motorways from the power cables.bullish seagulls.small birds gobbling crumbs on cafe tables.enormous kitchens in which thousands of uniformed chefs prepare whole herds of livestock in ovens as hot as furnaces.gorse bush. yellow berries. horse bush. yellow berries.manufacturing sonnets.new emancipations. insurrection burns in our hearts.the cracks widen into fissures.institutionalised and bedridden.COMBAT!zealots with fierce bayonets.ADVANCE!reserved potters sit reading the paper next to the hot kilns.anarchists upsetting cups of tea and shouting defiant slogans in percy ingle.crocuses. hammering. metal against intransigent metal. foxgloves.a small but significant number of sheep in Devon have begun to prey on small birds and rodents for food. scientists have made predictions about the emergence of packs of hunting sheep preying on birds, rabbits and rodents. as time goes on they will become more specialised, developing the teeth and musculature of a carnivore.solemn busts of roman emperors. wheezing church organs. cobblers. tailors. locksmiths. clockmakers.‘they move like a black tide inexorable and slow. we will have to cross the mountains, we have no other choice.’‘pumpernickel, charles’ he snorted derisively.‘in fact once we have found the right combinations, there is no code we cannot crack.’‘com-bo-nay-shuns.’ he emphasised each syllable and then licked his moustache with a wiry tongue.this is the future. we will rearrange reality according to a strict and rational set of rules. Jerusalem!farrell was playing darts on the poop deck while violet went downstairs to refill her glass. I jumped right out of my skin when I heard the fog horn! what a fright it gave me! ennuyees gaze blankly at the ships wake until the dinner bell shakes them from frigid reveries.mooga mooga mooga. three times I call your name and only a mocking echo answers me. MOOKA!beatings inside small concrete cells. discipline. beating inside small cages of bone. beating. breathing. beating.expand and contract. carnivals in which animals are torn apart by drunken revellers. hallelujah!migrating mastodons with icy coats. farms of pelicans and nanny-goats. glorious emperor, for whom no gift is too great. pomegranates and kettledrums. hay-fever and rheumatism. masticated veal. science classrooms. oh! savage lament!I know only what you have told me and I know you to be untrustworthy. O fiendish dissembler, I am left, frantically trying to sort your truths from fictions.Hesitantly I recite the questions from phrasebooks. I address myself to sunburnt peasants, standing there awkwardly with the book in my hand, squinting as I concentrate on each word, how ridiculous I must look!we measure time by the opening of flowers and the falling of leaves and so conclude that time never passes.all combinations must be exhausted.whales swim through the wide green oceans consuming vast quantities of plankton.it’s all so obvious!crustaceans dress in dinner suits and ball-gowns to dance demurely on beaches of red sand.copperplates and cutlery.the iron age!I dress in the garb of a 12th century monk and lure passers-by into heated debates on Aquinas and Aristotle.EITHER/OR!we will invent machines to lie to us and woo us to sleep with lullabies.machines which will assume the robes of angels and visit us in chariots pulled by savage tigers.we will invent miracles.three suns will rise.fortresses of steel and emerald.malodorous swamps.makeshift sheds on cold allotments conceal shrines to wild gods. at night the light from the sacramental candles can be seen seeping through the cracks in the timber walls.the runner-beans grow unusually fast.fields of mushrooms.grace.we pursued our goal with the fervour of saints. yet, just as the absolute seemed certain to engulf us, we were confronted with an awful paradox.‘if it weren’t for disillusionment I doubt I’d still be alive.’the familiar consolations of failure. the renewal of all possibilities. insane hope.moors. bleak tundra. black mamba.fascinating.‘you, are an idiot, Leopald.’jumble sale.tonight, the imps have promised to reveal their secrets.we will explain all human behaviour MATHEMATICALLY!‘come on! your dinner’s going cold.’folly! yes, it is our mistakes which make us human. our fallibility, o! our imperfectibility!we love them, o! we love them!wisdom is for fools.‘come on!’O, frivolous world! arbitrary and entirely frivolous, flinging handfuls of colourful confetti... OK, I’m on my waypeace is for the senile! serenity? pah! save it for the retired, I like what I am.dinner jackets, roasted to perfection.Move aside! I’m thinking important thoughts!colanders, highlanders, salamanders, marigolds, panda bears, periscopes, cotton reels, microscopes, dustbin lids, horoscopes, antidotes, porcelain, concubines, medicines, photographs, binoculars, legislation, statistics.the cat, having successfully slain a small bird, has dragged her prey behind my garden shed where she surreptitiously dismembers the corpse. I watch her through a pair of binoculars, feeling guilty.seminarians. cimmerians. aquariums.pastry-faced.corpulent woodpigeons. corpuscular rodents. rambunctious pheasant. ambitious geese. duplicitous lobster.virulent lettuce. sinuous nosebleed. crapulent fur. corrosive valentine.we love all that is extraneous.we love poetry.we love the joyful flight of the fantail.the extraneous celebrates all that is necessary and everything that is extraneous is as necessary as a tiger’s stripes.photographs in which sad apes seem to recognise the imminent extinction of their species in the camera’s lens. cuckoo.farthing.path.moss.a miner.balderdash. butterscotch. pickled walnuts.pickled walrus.windmills. daffodils.barrage.hyena.jackal lantern.witless buffoonery.mandrake.barracuda.the sound of the rainnnnnn during a power-cut.the treetops are full of birds with colourful feathers.a miraculous flowering. we rolled and squirmed in mud and ashes.a moment is a movement.I sing- tra lalalajimmy rickets.hair balloons. HelloHellomy name is Bob. Balooga balooga..my name is Bob. Vamoosh vamoosh.caravans. castanets. Belgrade. humpety humpety hopitty hop.grayvay. oh, hullaballoo..cockatoo, my word, vindaloo, or Timbuktu it’s up to you, my word, my goodness gracious those bloody saints are marching in.of course, Belgravia has always been a desirable place to live. vamoosh vamoosh... shatter. a total refusal to understand causes huge mechanisms to stall. balooooga.broad confident rivers ooh, lala.rancid. eeewwww. brutish. crarrrrww. swordfish. crayfish. dogfish. spoon.Mallarme. marmalade. simpering wretchaccountant to the starstell us your sordid secrets.roar. I maaaaanno oongeeerrrweekk. trumpety. oh rassh yooth.

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orange star meat. glimmering heavens.
desperately accelerating, the double-decker bus pulls away from the forest periphery as a thousand spears clatter against its metal flanks.
moon cows graze in lunar pastures of grey rock and dust.
a mastodon struggling in a crevasse. black-faced colliers queue for milk. In Santiago a retired couple prune their hedges. She is wearing a white chiffon dress while her flushed husband sweats in tweeds.
I was quite Adam Ant, I was to have no part in this venture. salivating fanatics. amateur archaeologists patrol the riverbanks with metal detectors. the gods are bored of men.Castor oil. traumatised war-veterans join the priesthood and spend their days counting rosary beads. cardboard dating. the opera singer is fawned over by her bespectacled suitors.‘My names NOT Carmen you imbeciles.’ somnolent idols. sequestered bowers. and all the haystacks burnt like beacons the day that farmer died. Odysseus’s nursemaid. Brown light. Cardboard dating. Bolshie magpies.The billionaire’s aviary. Parrots from Sumatra and the Amazon. Toucans and puffins. wood pigeons clatter through the sycamores. seething desert. uproarious.a troop of baboons drink noisily till dawn and fall asleep drunk in the gutters. One of the larger males flaps around with his long arms, trying to shoo away the sun.Prince Charles does a hilarious turn on the Jew’s harp. You should hear him do ‘God Save the Queen.’ Ha, that kills me everytime.
astute tactician. ruthless. ruminating fruit pickers, sun burnt and weary, hands stained with berry juice. fastidious clerks. fulminating football managers. lumpy skull. lavish formality. ponderous orchestra.Typical, you hang around for hours waiting for Jerusalem and three come along at once.Forlorn street sweepers composing sonnets to the rhythm of the traffic. children hide in cupboards waiting to surprise the baby-sitter. BOO! a shy girl teases music from a row of wine glasses. a boy with pale skin and dry hair watches his ant farm. The best slide I ever went on was in Bournemouth. I’ve no idea if it’s still there or not. I got beaten round the head with a bike chain once.
They put a damp cloth on my forehead. I remember that day like it was yesterday.what happened yesterday?fuck, I dunno.
computer bubbles. hair sprouts from pink flesh.sheep thieves light fires by Hadrian’s broken wall. The autodidact falls asleep, his head resting on a book on the pre-Socratic philosophers. The librarian watches him tenderly. All hands on deck!
orange rivers. we must ACT NOW! Property values have slumped over the last couple of years. ‘The point is William, that this IS a game. That’s the point, and I’m not sure whether or not I can be bothered to play.’
cuckoo. cuckold. cutlery.
the manifold manifestations. words are extremely dull.unfortunately, they’re all we have. the seas are full of fish and the land is rich and bountiful.megalopolis. cities which cover whole islands, just imagine! the sky is permanently overcast. He has a head like a little bird’s.
Allow me to explain. Here, we are no longer bound by the conventions of reality. This is imagination and there are no limits. we refuse to leave, this is our homeland. inside the om-bubble everything is just as it should be. whatever we imagine IS. it really is that simple, will you join us?
after the accident we discovered a whole range of mutations in both animal and plant life. fish sprouting hair, mammals with gills, carnivorous sheep. once we had recovered from the initial shock we realised that these developments were all to the good. we learned to celebrate the growth of diversity we had unwittingly engendered and the infinitely creative potential of mother nature. in our ignorance we have furthered the cause of evolution. humanity, on the other hand, is a species in decline.
here, nothing is difficult. everything is as it should be.
while still a student at university he penned a tract entitled‘the imminent extinction of the human race’which afforded him a certain degree of notoriety.
here, everything is as perfect as you want it to be.
stay off the grass.
some will argue that we have arrived at conclusions which are hardly far removed from outright insanity. we will tell them to fuck off. complete absence of thought = complete awareness. the equations all share an elegant simplicity. I ask no more questions and, as a result, receive all manner of answers. In fact, I am bombarded with them.
no smoking.
In all honesty I am not even half as clever as I pretend to be. but I do know a secret. shall I share it with you?playful elephants blow river water from wrinkled trunks. the house is full of heirlooms, there is no more room for our own possessions. all you have to do is ask.
salt on the tongue. people are frightening. they don’t seem real.could this all be an elaborate hoax? sugar on the tongue.now that’s quite interesting isn’t it? salt on the tongue. sugar on the tongue. does that help you? Personally I find that quite magical. I mean, it really works!
now, you see, there’s no limit to the possibilities. this is a very precise, calculated form of magic.super slide. fun for all ages. presidential hotel. queens arcade. merry-go-round. office sweep stake, c’mon, don’t be a spoil sport. hula hoops. concrete turbines. there’s no limit to what you can buy.
meet me under the bridge at five past midnight. My left arm will be in a sling but my guess is that we’ll be alone and therefore you should have no problem recognising me. goodbye.
____________________________________________---------
next!
‘cantabrian hound, fierce and salvingsucking, harnessedeven then, cheered on and celebratedapplause which renders livers lucidabove all that, urge and surge, burstingcresting the hill and surveying the valleya new napoleon of the highlandsslender, firm, dulcet.maybe memories ripple under lamplightas beachy sand is folded by the sea.too soon I fear. the weight of events crushed us like an egg in a vicea snail beneath the gardener’s heavy bootsanctified, but unloved trumpetingheroism of the most sordid natureheaving, retching, bucklingbeyond sea sickness into a more enlightened spherewhere courtiers in starched collars serve quail eggs and goose liversobsequious and scarletsipping supping and slurpingsensuous suction, soughtlubricious saliviasalving soothing and solvingabsolving, even now, curing and salting, solely sorely and surelysuet and salt, barleywater, bitter lemon. the familiar consolations of defeatdisappointments and ointments, unctuous and pleadingthe vindictive voice, the old nagging woman in back of the skullmoving solely and surely like labradors and cocker spanielsthe moors bestrewn with rocks the redbearded giants had hurled at one anotherbut time had extinguished that violent flame and nowmaunders and mangersmourners and moulders the remaindersit’s here, and yet we don’t see itit’s here and yet we step over itavoid itmanuvere around itleap across itevade itbetray iteggs in baskets, schapps and brandy snapsfairy cakes and burdock bake, honeycups and rakish fatealas alack a lass a lad and all this before nightfallall before night fell bustling and bursting and brandishing silverwearhurling cutlery holding and haunting soldering and sauntering, sailing saintly, maudlin mauderingit’s almost too much to bearthis Bayreuth, sore resting place of the vaunted deadushering us toward sleep and white stone, incense and the pure voice of the castrato.’
Gerry Maunder. the outcropfrom Myths of the Northern Hemisphere.______________________________________________-----next!
heron-boneinfernal. the grey sea, as smooth as seal flesh. slippery. deceptive. sea of stone.the motorway. the pilgrimage. exhaust fumes. the trembling vales.belligerent gulls fight over crusts of rye-bread.conflict. domination. submission.limpid. lonely. liquid. formless.cuttlefish. compost heap.the fantails. the winding stream. the steep banks where the rats nest.dissolute. desolate. ingest. in jest. inject.the cells shudder in anger.the centre lost. brain crushed by skull. the chest tight.
foals. fossils. foolish.pollen. poems.beads of light.bird howl.pumice stone. purgatory. limbo dance.
the fallen fir. the fire. whisper. whimper. waver.the black expanse. the sea. the moist eye.an excess of vision. of versions.‘life is multiple, all days different from each other, and only as multiple shall we be with reality and alone.’(fernando pessoa)legion. legend. legume. leg room.lombardy. libido.
shopping malls. all night garages. angel nests. tunnels of light.harbours. bowers. red flowers. blue sky. bilious clouds.red rose. blood cup. no more lyricism.the water is orange.a tiny man disappeared into a hole in the ground.I sent my hound after him but it was too late.he escaped.the hunt. hunting the moment. the movement. the movement of moments. the music of moments. chords. codes. we are. I am.beyond. in the wider regions.
lighthouse. house of light.sun rose. honey moon.sweaty palms.hospital corridors.hotel televisions.a rash of demons. yellow ghosts.
two hundred times the suffering is repeated.the heart replaced to be torn out anew.birds gather and peck at my exposed heart.their beaks and feathers are red and sticky. gorged on the heart-fruit. the blood-juice.passers-by. pedestrians. redemption.fat, yellow birds shake the branches of the bush and pluck its berries.moments that shake us from our self-absorption. our shouting into the void, conversing with echoes, chiding, remonstrating, reassuring the silence which needs no reassurance.hermit crabs, hiding in the shells of the dead.
ventolin gush. chest expander. fickle body. bathed in sweat. suffering beneath the sheets. thankful for the constant throb of the road below, thankful that the lungs do not rattle into silence. I do not panic. my body is not mine. it is not under my control. propped up in bed like a geriatric. wheezing and coughing. thinking of nothing but breath and of my own heroism.
the shuffling of symbols. the tarot-pack of language. fate revealed in speech. the uncovering of cards. ventriloquists dummies, mouths moved by strings. a voice which is not our own.
the delighted eye. a butterfly. a parrot disappearing into the tall trees. the flight path of a ladybird. a conker, bright and burnished. red berries. the most delicate of flowers. the clouds lolling in sunlight. the industrious ants. there is a sadness in this kind of seeing.
‘you are still at the stage of the temptation of st. anthony. the struggle with diminished zeal, grimacing of a child’s insolence, collapse and fright. but you will begin this work. all the possibilities of harmony and architecture will rise up around your seat. perfect and unpredictable beings will offer themselves for your experiments. around you the curiosity of ancient crowds and idle luxuries will move in dreamily. your memories and your senses will only serve to feed your creative urge. what will happen to the world when you leave it? nothing in any case will remain of what is now visible.’(arthur rimbaud)
a destitute leprechaun begs for change, having lost all his gold in a bet.the fairies sing horrid songs about him.we create ourselves using whatever words and images we happen to find lying around. gimcrack. hotchpotch. ramshackle. patchwork men.
conscious of every expression that darts across our faces. we cannot fail to notice the angle at which we hold our cigarette or the way we clasp our beer bottle.gestures become wary. defensive. faces emptied of expression. nothing is natural. no emotion takes form spontaneously on a face. smiles are mechanical. produced on demand.‘packed with visions, throwing bread to pigeons, christ has risen’(ghostface killa)
she is careful when she talks to me. the caspian sea. what do you want from me? what do you take from me? hopscotch. germination. pulluation. heaps of fish thrash on the wooden deck. wet scales glinting in the white sunlight. heron. kingfisher with a beak like a letter-opener. brylcreemed starlings with purple breasts. sucked in to the earth. succumb. succubi. solipsism. soliloquy. the silent circling stars. the stars circle the earth like vultures. comets hurtling through space. escape the atmosphere.
rabbit-warrens. lines of the skin. veins of a leaf. beautifully diseased. red and gold. effervescent fevers. the decapitated body of a swallow. forlorn. missing a head. red neck stump.archaeologists of the spirit. of whatever writhes within. mind as museum. cigarette butts in the flower beds. tobacco plants. the galleons are all sinking and my pen is slippery with sweat.
supine. saline. rapine. mainline. alpine. alpineapple, the fruit of the mountains.children congregate outside the late night kebabish like evacuees.mermaid tavern.I growled.heat bends the air.the light behind her hair.the woman who enchants the world.
the flowers are inclining their heads towards the sun.leaves and petals tremble.
sunlight catches the wing-casing of a beetle.the dew evaporates.____________________________________---next!
cussed honeugle~umbilical wrench.
flickering, morning’s lashes. fuming. mourning.muggle muddle muggle muggle mump. mugglemump. one salty tear~ the ache of absent memories.forlorn palaeontologists, preserving the tiny bones of sparrows and fieldmice. devout Benedictines catalouging the detritus scavenged from gutters and litterbins. compiling histories of typologies, marketing strategies and colour theory.pebblebeach puddlepond. pillory-punnet. gibbetgulch. gibbering.to act in accordance with the inner imperative. sunder and solder sever and bind.
magdalene maudlin maundering.before the extinction of the dinosaurs battery chickens coldstew and broth, a vale of earthly delights. pomengrante and partidges, plump and inviting. jovial gods preside over bawdy banquets. sickly ghosts, broken promises. a waterside affair. boorish old men, brains brandylogged, scratching cum-stains off the cardigan.
mawkish hacks, goaty and frogthroated, pummled tummy berth. mendacious Spaniard, spinach chewing, frolicsome nannyroot.bequeathed sodden colloquies, boon companion to the fateful duke, fretful heir and hollyhock.embrace merry cousins lark about rooster panneled of walnut, flannel oh flannel, precious lillyweed.my love is rocketship baby yeahthe barricade is the bollade is corvine capple speak, again borrowed or captured bleated, fractured, honourably defeated. mincing fatuously,sprainish duke, fickle wind of ill repute marmaduke big basingstokebroker a hundred fish in a swolen belly indeed, arch enemy, fiend to the stars, confidante of minor royalty, buffon, wretch, parrot.poultice, pompadour, pockmarkcocaine speak, frenzied oar, boor to the stars and minor celebritiescackler of wicked lashes, corner of foolish indolenceminor salubrity of brackish fate, bankish nature.moving along canals of dubious reputation, salubricator in infamous passagesbrainish and foolish, pickled and pulled, sunken and sexless, brackish and bowlish, manchieantowards pools of light, wallowing and billowing brawling bawling brawling bawling brawling brawling brawlingfor now, postures and impostures crossed cashed and cuckolded. bled definitively.toowards a cabbage patch, a moon of ones own.____________________-----next!
there’s a preacher round my way who’s got this great gimmick. he picks his spot and scatters bird feed in front of him, well he’s been doing this for years in actual fact and the birds recognise him and gather around him, even before he’s got out the seeds and nuts, so he’s just surrounded by birds as he preaches, does a st francis y’see, the people love it...
performing seals on traffic islands, tongues lolling the heat, carboard cutouts of saints and martyrs advertising washing powder and nicorette patches-I suppose what you’d want, ideally as a prime minister/president is the kind of unqualified adoration the pop/film star recieves from his/her fans. and what you’d really be working on is a way to acheive that, party members should really be putting the machinery in place for that to happen, manufacturing a leader who can command that kind of adulation. that kind of crazed lust and emotional investment.plastic daffodils in a window box. cloned mastodons, lined up at a seaside resort, children pay to ride on their backs, yipe and scream in excitement, pull handfuls of fur from the animal’s pelt. refugees forced to enter naked hula-hoop contests to establish who has the right to residency, men, women and children, all together in a vast warehouse, gyrating furiously under the watchful eyes of the home office judges.mawkish comedians sobbing into pints of bitter, dragoons in pinafores...a retired sergeant, gone soft in the head, bellowing orders at a flickering television set.‘ALRIGHT YOU MISERABLE LOT...’a child with a mouth full of brown teeth.scar tissue. sweat.an actress, face forced into a permanant grin after visiting a certain disreputable plastic surgeon. finally taken to court his patients line up to accuse him, a fury of swollen lips, uneven breasts, immobile faces...men in fezes and three-quater length leather jackets hand out leaflets for psychics and healers, clairvoyants and tarot readers, mediums to plot a course through chaos, achieve your dreams..‘to put it into language a brain of your meagre proportions and scope can comprehend Jameson, humans feel trapped inside a universe of fixed laws, constants, by the narrow limits of the possible, they feel the universe is a sealed box, that they’re trapped inside and can barely strech out their arms without hitting the sides. this illusion, for illusion it is, is bought into being and maintained by a self-policing of the mind, of what is allowed to surface into consciousness. the tension and the feeling of constraint, of being trapped, arises from this attempt, ultimately futile, like damning a river with a wall of sand, to control what enters consciousness. the truth is, alone, you never need be yourself. the personality is a role we play in public, a performance, alone, there is no personality. the mind is an instrument which RECEIVES thoughts, not one which CREATES thoughts.’‘sir, I must confess, I am thoroughly bewildered’‘Jameson, you don’t exist.’building buildings in the shape of an eagles head, a fist, a sword. air thick enough to chew.boiled bacon, stewed steak, mashed potato.old men who can’t understand where the past went to, desperate and panicked, convinced it must still exist somewhere, like a place on the map, if only they could find their way home, to that familiar complex of habits and values...murderous baliffs with fire in the eyes, country butchers like Aztec priests, initiated into blood mysteries, presiding over ceremonies of ritual sacrifice.nothing is as complicated as it seems.blouses and petticoats, stockings and garters.a banjo player serenades his sweetheart, a seaman sends love letters by carrier pigeon.pirates commandeer huge oil tankers and play vigourous lacrosse matches on the deck and feed seagulls with scraps of bacon. when the sun sets they watch television and feel wistful for the life they left behind. later, drunk and maudlin they talk of their mothers and lost loves, childhood misadventure and jobs in supermarkets and fastfood dealers.earnest missionaries from Hertfordshire get taught to moonwalk by tribes in the Amazon while gibbons howl with glee.sparks fly off the fingertips, everything crackles and hums.magistrates and headmasters reduced to foraging through rubbish dumps while children hurl stones and shout insults at them.a lone ballerina on a warehouse rooftop, leaping and pirouetting while forklift drivers yell words of encouragement and appreication.german teenagers searching for new kicks inject themselves with wolves blood, run naked through forests and howl at the moon.walking into a room full of mothsthe fetish industry breeds a new generation of pornstars who pay for operations to deform them, stretch them, mishape them, scar them...football fans throw kettles and filnt arrowheads at opposing strikersthe government imposes arbitary rules on its citizens, no red on wednesday, runner beans are contraband, obedience is the new morality...furnaces melt all records made before 1968, text is outlawed_____________________________________-------next!
I awoke, shaken by a dream I was unable to remember.‘you broke a swan’s neck.’yes, that’s right, I broke a swan’s neck.we keep hurting one another, even when we don’t intend to. I think it’s very sad, the way that happens.and ourselves, we hurt ourselves too. why do we hurt ourselves?“I’ve got cancer of the testicles, cancer of the bowels, cirrhosis of the liver and I’ve got an ulcer in my windpipe.”crocus of the liver. liver of the valley. vultures rest on the chimmney pots.nefarious oligarchies. Flute of Napoleon.a profusion of spiders.“we’re like caged animals, beating our heads against the walls, waiting for the skull to crack.”featherless birds. a lone security guard gazes out over a vast empty lobby.“we smeared the flowers with superglue and laughed to see the fat little bees struggle to free themselves.” in the garden the plants are growing. if you are quiet you can hear them.stupefied with excess.sickness.false intentions.it’s all over now.“all meaning has been drained from the world. never again will myth inflame our minds.”to all intents and purposes we are dead. our hearts stilled and our flesh cold. “little bubbles of spittle emerge at the corners of his mouth whenever he speaks. he disgusts me to be perfectly honest with you.”we see no pressing reason to remain here but we lack the courage to leave.“he’s not very friendly is he?”late one night Brian takes a piss in a jeweller’s doorway. the stream of urine trickles between his feet and down into the gutter. when was the last time you enjoyed yourself? teenage girls puke in their shoes.a wealthy entrepreneur was giving a lecture to a group of recent graduates. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here.I don’t want to be here. a young accountant strangles his girlfriend over a minor disagreement. she didn’t die but she wasn’t far off. we shouldn’t be here. why is everything so sad. I don’t like it here.maybe we don’t want to be bullies and maybe we don’t want to be victims. what then?persian bugs. morbid constitustion. stitched into our skins. trapped.“take away my body, I have no use for it.”he’s begins to get hysterical...“TAKE IT AWAY”_________________________________________-----next!
buoyant. balloon. billowing.brandishing. bottling. brooding. bleeding.beetling. braising. buttering. breeding. brunt.domestic words. wild words. cupola. cornea. cornucopia.eloheim.skin becomes landscape, pores open out, become craters...a woman’s spirit takes posession of him, he squeals with delight, writhes, moans...wraiths gather outside the off-license, seethe at the threshold.borders. boundaries.sanctums. sanctuaries.the shepherd gestures to us, he leads us to a meadow where the lion sleeps with the lamb.a match burns without being consumed.shells.
In an arrangement thought to be the first of its kind, the National Trust have entered into a 3-year sponsorship deal with Tesco. In exchange for an undisclosed sum of money, paid in monthly installments, the National Trust are to rename the Pennines, the Tesco Alps.Governments of developing countries are thought to be especially interested in this kind of partnership as the only way to make conservation profitable. Sega and Nintenda are said to be vying for the right to brand the Gobi desert.police cordons. canker. choral.semblance.rivulets.______________________________------
barracuda. breathe.selves break off, like islands break off the mainland, drift out to sea, like newborn spiders, blown in all directions by the wind, find independence.different personaities struggle for control of the body, the face twitches, switches from grin to grimace, growls, spits, drools...spirits sweep in on the wind, wipe words from the page, extinguish candles.space colony. rockets refuel.molotov. aperitif. populist.crowded aether. umbra. umbrage. ox-bridge.the guardian cerberi.lupine.on the hill, when all had melted, from mistwhite dogs, tall and strong, run past us. one stays behind when the rest have vanished.his initial friendliness changes to hostility, snarls, bares teeth, and we panic.the sigh.stuck in time loops, a moebius strip, round and round...previous incarnations flash through the soul, hiss like a lizardlives upon lives, all amounting to a great ennui, drunk on lotuschemical stew. a rising tide of fear.green laser light strafes the skystarscrapers, black glass towers, satellites in orbit.spiritguides speak through other mouths, answer questions we were never aware of asking.the mind travels. billowing. fulsome flame.men behind glass panels observe the night. cockatrice. plated.spy satellites. data nets. secret operatives.words form their own realities, hallucinations, dreamstates.fulsome guppy. harpsichord. bovine. bauxite.murderous spiel. cannibalise the soul. devilgrass. Saladin. querellous tombs.a sight so wonderful I thought I might never speak again.________________________________-----next!