Thursday, 28 October 2010

Poem : SSRI

Gravity, gravity, gravity
I love you
because you always
pull me down
you boundless swine of humility
you unfathomable pancake
I swear
that if I did not know you
I would certainly
want to marry you.

Poem : MM

and the city is breathing slowly.
The body travels on the mind's parisomony
and buses turn into synapses
slowly turning on the introspcetive lights of neurons
that try ardently to be self aware
of oncoming traffic.

A strange ear drives past
A bell rings

The mechaninc hum of space
A tissue
Soft eye lids.

My teeth feel like expensive fur coats.

Buildings resemble the unfamiliar tusks
of a walrus, resplendent
with a premeture twilight.

The odd eye twitches.

The backs of the seats are
a very charming blue.

The underneath of shadows are
a very charming blue.

The inside of my mouth is
a very charming blue.

Thursday, 21 October 2010

Poem : Nomenclature

Nomenclature: the infinite principle perspective that holds the wax of lyrical lampshades that instruct you to look into the shadows of transparency.

Nomenclature: the insects wing that's stapled to the hat which often plagues my shoulder with cold thoughts.

Nomenclature: the burning foot of the elephant, the man who smoked a cigarette and placed his nose on a bloated lemon, made from a million drawn lines.

Nomenclature: the action of creating a seehorse with the head of an envelope.

Nomenclature: Jesus fucking christ! the romantacising of semantics that construct these futile icecreams.

Nomenclature: a universe of nonsense that we categorise in fur, as we slide apathetically down the glass stomach of an angel.

Nomenclature: Barbara Streisand, you are being unreasonable.

Nomenclature: let's get this party started and satiate our hedonistic head-on-shit-stick.

Nomenclature: socks and knees

Nomenclature: sans without sans

Nomenclature: the knife without a shower, the fork without a blade. A chair for the idle.
A means to make my moustache ring.

Nomenclature: a catalyst to make the telephone tickle my lips.

Nomenclature: a circle with squareness. A sparkling contradiction.

Nomenclature: not being able to sleep. Excessive sleepiness.
Keep moving, jewellery box.

Nomenclature: no men can hear,
moment of seeding,
no mention of lecture,
gnome in a reflection,
a Roman clutching his ear.

Nomenclature: The novelty of the theatre with women encircling the churches.
The memory of the acute,
the collapsing cylinder,
the comfort of a clue
and to know the front from the rear.

Nomenclature: what are you doing? your eyes awake for the duvet as the sun buries itself beneath you.

Nomenclature: and there it is, the indefinite principle, the skin that alludes me, the abundance of sardonic circles that resemble their inhibitions when confronted with the flame of the thumb!

Nomenclature: you have become autobiographical without ever raising a dimension of reason.

Monday, 18 October 2010

Rebel : Issue 6

Ventral interview in issue 6 of Californian arts magazine Rebel.
A great arts and music publication.

Sunday, 17 October 2010

Peripheral Liquid Sumo

Commissioned art works

Poem : Gluten and Mustard

The most ordinary of men
are made entirely out of steps
leading to a concrete singularity
sitting effortlessly out of reach.

We engage in an exchange,
unfathomable faces of Icelandic rooms
and three layers of gravel.

The mindlessness of stars are born into the adoration of the body.

A verbose queen with twice as many noses,
sifts through these failing advances.
The creator laments from an apartment in the trees
as his muscular discs contract
with gravitational shift.
Two moons orbit his jawline.

I don't trust anyone who take out their eyes before laughing.

Poem : Untitled

The thoughts of a battery allude me
metallic intelligence
with intangible indifference.

As the upside down pyramid
floats in the history of heads
the species perpetuates
with apple juice logic.

Poem : Parsimonial pathways

The blind dog
looked at me today
via the eyes of her nose
with orbits of white contemplation
and beautiful mechanisms.

The walls remained untouched,
and her world

Poem : Eleve times Eleven

The bee falls into a prism
and reflects the spectrum of the unconscious flower,
a Euclidean flavour of the tongue
that recurs in the eyes of table legs.

The tree collapses into a cube
as we steal a handful of dreaming spheres repeating.

The boy who wishes he was parallel
is held rigid between the concept of breathing.

The pretense of brain cells creates magnificent waves,
leaves twitch like muscles,
before a ravishing complexity of vibrations arrive
and your cheekbones lift.