Monday 23 December 2013

Less Skeleton Than Soul

Less Skeleton Than Soul

Living so slowly
It's hard to accept peace in your life
Like a pool collecting
Where once was a torrent of strife

You'll fit through the keyhole
Now you're less skeleton than soul
And what you see in that chamber
Looks so dead and old

Dying is easy
All you need is the money for beer
Your disappearance
Will let your conscience walk away clear

You'll fit through the keyhole
Now you're less skeleton than soul
And what you see in that chamber
Looks so dead and old

But I'm still drinking
I'm still drinking
I'm still drinking
I'm still drinking



Wednesday 18 December 2013

Ending Age

Ending Age

The chances that I had are gone
The sheep are sheared
The hair's bleached blonde
And what have I left to do
But mould a moody shade of blue
A culture teaming with the spawn
The planning application's drawn
And what have I left to wish
That we shoal peacefully as fish
The boat has docked
The hold unloads
If I could write a pretty ode
I would join this ending age
And close the old book's final page

Thursday 12 December 2013

We Ordered Weed From Canada

We Ordered Weed From Canada

Before the cryptohackers came
And made the deal secure
When we were only teenagers
We were really poor

We were poor but only needed
One thing to get by
When the days were glistening
We wanted to get high

It's easy to get sick of local
Dealers selling hashish
Even when you get you still want
To escape their leash

It took some time to save the cash
I was still at college
So many weeks of smokeless nights
Were blurred edge to edge

Finally we had the cash
To place upon the net
It felt like we had struck a chord
In our glorious duet

We ordered weed from Canada
Some cheese and skunk and haze
And presently by mail it came
In those glistening days

Wednesday 11 December 2013

You Can't Pay Me Enough To Care

You Can't Pay Me Enough To Care

I'd love to quit and leave my old desk bare
To vacate like I owe you nothing more
I know you can't pay me enough to care

Each morning I sink lower in my chair
And accept the receding sight of shore
I'd love to quit and leave my old desk bare

The neural trap of the working day snare
That starts with twitches and works to my core
So bad you can't pay me enough to care

I used to think that I had something rare
But it's been squeezed till it became a sore
I'd love to quit and leave my old desk bare

The hours are taken and there's none spare
How can a thing be both whirlwind and bore?
It blows but you can't pay me enough to care

The sun presses against the screen its glare
While we're crushed by the never ending roar
I'd love to quit and leave my old desk bare
Because you can't pay me enough to care

Tuesday 3 December 2013

My Will To Power Is Dead

My Will To Power Is Dead

The dwarf of gravity's in a thong
The townsfolk left to smoke a bong
That science wasn't gay enough for me
Ultra modern kids unable
To look beyond blood and fable
That is why I am so stupid, see?

My will to power has long past
I'm trapped here in the house of ash
Where everything's as brittle as dried clay
My will to power is long dead
I share this tomb with the godhead
Where life is dust and crumbling decay

Psychology will be the future
Lanzek pills will knit the suture
Prophet's taking classes for his hate
The builders of the house of ash
Were all erased by nuclear flash
The bridge that we once trod is desolate

My will to power has long past
I'm trapped here in the house of ash
Where everything's as brittle as dried clay
My will to power is long dead
I share this tomb with the godhead
Where life is dust and crumbling decay

Thursday 28 November 2013

Rationality Makes Me Sick

Rationality Makes Me Sick

Well you're so fucking organized
Rationality makes me sick
You trust your brain and trust and your eyes
On good days I throw bricks
You're not concerned
About lows and highs
When you're unhappy
The worst you do is cry

Well you're so fucking sensible
Rationality makes me puke
You can break me down in a crucible
Look me up in a book
You're so concerned
About what is right
Without distraction
You march into the light

Well you're so fucking delighted
Rationality makes me vom
It's types like you who get knighted
Types like you lead the prom
You're so concerned
About your prestige
Why don't you make a motion
To produce more grease

Well you're so fucking disciplined
Rationality makes me chunder
I can feel this primal land
Speaking through its thunder
You will never
Embrace the chaos
I follow the prophet
The saint of death and loss
The saint of death and loss
The saint of death and loss!

Wednesday 27 November 2013

The Horde Marches

The Horde Marches

The idea should be
Specific and universal
The syntax should be multiplexed
Using form that suits theme
Felicitous choice of language
Should render meaning apparent
Without need for extraneous verbiage
Character defines tone and tone defines character
Delivery should be unaffected
We march to the pig skin beat
A sound that has echoed for thousands of years
Bouncing off the hills
Then concrete
A superstructure penetrates the mind
Like a mammoth tusk through a brave
And no more can be said
For the trampling of the horde
Each footstep a droplet
Drowns the voice
No one can hear
No one will know
No one.

Wednesday 23 October 2013

Death Will Have Something To Chew

Death Will Have Something To Chew

The cliff that is thrashed by the waves
The rope that holds taut although it has frayed
The fire in the heather that cleanses the land
You were baptised with a knife in your hand


You painted a rhapsody blue
Death will have something to chew

Your vein was torn on that day
Your strong blood was born the caesarean way
A new will flowed out on the ebb of the tide
The red of the sun was glowing inside

You painted a rhapsody blue

Death will have something to chew

You're older than you thought you'd be

Another ring grown in the trunk of the tree

Though you might be wishing for rest
First you'll have to take off that crown and your crest

You painted a rhapsody blue

Death will have something to chew

Wednesday 16 October 2013

In Came A Maudlin Drunk

In Came A Maudlin Drunk

In came a maudlin drunk
Who could see underwater
Once she had sunk
A few drinks and knew what to say
That people are assholes
But they have to stay
Alive somehow living off hate
Like incubi squirming around at the gate
Of hell or womanhood but
Everyone knows that my gate is shut

Tuesday 8 October 2013

Forget Me Genero

Forget Me Genero

The prints in my flat are appalling
My landlord surely has no taste
A sailboat floats by under sunset somewhere
And men nap while they're building the empire state

Genero, Genero
Forget me Genero
'Cus I'll forget you
Once I've packed up my case
I'm going where life is not mediocre
Where I'm struck with meaning
Like lightning from grace
Forget me Genero,
Forget me Genero,
Forget

My songwriting style is banal
I'm a teenager wearing a dress
All I do is moan about the same things
And I'm not even bothered to try to impress

Genero, Genero
Forget me Genero
'Cus I'll forget you
Once I've packed up my case
I'm going where life is not mediocre
Where I'm struck with meaning
Like lightning from grace
Forget me Genero,
Forget me Genero,
Forget

We used to drink so much together

We'd fight all the night until dawn
Now we've been partitioned according to schemes
That the dullest line manager would greet with yawns

Genero, Genero
Forget me Genero
'Cus I'll forget you
Once I've packed up my case
I'm going where life is not mediocre
Where I'm struck with meaning
Like lightning from grace
Forget me Genero,
Forget me Genero,
Forget

Saturday 5 October 2013

Thaw

Thaw

My head's so numb
If I could draw
I'd sketch a bed of untouched snow
And though I'd sleep as soon as blink
I have a drink and start to thaw

I'm melting now
If you could see
You'd say I look almost alive
Yet I've a bottle more to neck
This frozen wreck will soon be free



Shit Or Dirt Or Blood

Shit Or Dirt Or Blood

I was reading Bukowski again
when I noticed a fleck of
shit or dirt
or blood
on the page
and I thought
it fitted there
as good as
any word

My Dick Is Stuck In This Pineapple!

My Dick Is Stuck In This Pineapple!
By Paul Crowe and John Morrice

Hello boys and girls! This is a story about how God can affect our lives in the strangest ways.

Once there was a boy called Percival who had a boil on the end of his dick.

It made him miserable.

First he tried putting on lotion, but that didn't work.

Next he went to the doctor, who said, “Why don't you try putting on lotion?” Percival said he had, but the doctor didn't believe him, and sent him off with a scolding in his ears.

So off he went, feeling very sad. However, on his way home, he passed a fortune teller's shop. An old wise woman sat outside and when she saw Percival looking sad, she beckoned him closer.

“Why so sad, little boy? Has a girl run away with your heart?” she croaked.

No”, said Percival.

“Have your mother and father told you off for being naughty?”

No”, said Percival. Then a gleam came into the old woman's eye.

There is only one other thing that could make you so sad. You must have a boil on your dick!”

Yes I have” said Percival, wincing in pain. “I don't know what to do.”

Come with me, little boy, and I will give you something to cure your boil,” she said.

Percival followed her into the shop and gasped with amazement. The old wise woman's shop was filled with strange and wonderful things.

He saw a wasp stirring a cauldron.

He saw another wasp building a boat.

He saw a stick that knew how to smile.

He saw an electric chair.

He saw a man with tracing paper for skin.

He saw a horse fucking a ghost.

He saw three divers trapped in a fishtank.

He saw one million magic tangerines compressed in a barrel.

And he was impressed.

Over here, little boy”, said the old wise woman, and beckoned him towards a towering fruit bowl. “Take this pineapple and stick your dick in it, for only this can cure your boil.”

Percival grabbed the pineapple and skipped gaily all the way home. Once there, he raised the pineapple above his head and brought it hurtling down on the boil. “Pop” went the pineapple. Almost at once, the pain from the boil faded, but when he tried to remove the pineapple, he found it was stuck.

Help”, said Percival, “My dick is stuck in this pineapple!”

How the fuck did that happen?” said Percival's father, charging into the bathroom. Percival's father pulled with all his might, but the pineapple would not move.

I have an idea” said Percival's mother. She took some twine from under the sink and tied one end around the pineapple, then they tied the other end to the handle of the bathroom door. But no matter how much they slammed the door, the pineapple wouldn't budge.

I'm going to call the fire brigade!” said Percival's mother. When the firemen arrived they measured the pineapple front to back and round and round. Once they had assessed the situation they said “There's no other way. We'll have to cut it off, and your dick too!”

Percival was very sad, but his mother promised to buy him a lolly, so feeling very brave he told the firemen it was okay.

The firemen took their big cutting tool out of their fire engine and placed it against Perical's
pineapple. But when they turned it on, the cutter began to smoke and whine, and no matter how hard they pressed it against the pineapple, it would not cut.

The firemen scratched their heads and wondered, until they got a call about a fire and had to leave poor Percival's dick stuck inside the pineapple.

Next Percival's father said “I'm going to call the army!” who arrived in a great big tank.

“Don't worry!” shouted the general. “There's nothing that can withstand our bombs. So they attached a big explosive to Percival's pineapple. “Kaboom!” went the bomb as it exploded. But when the smoke cleared, although Percival's face was all black and his clothes torn up, the pineapple was still there.

Seeing it was no use, Percival's mother began to cry. “How can we send Percival to school with a pineapple stuck on his dick?”

Well honey”, Percival's father said, “All we can do now is put our faith in God that Percival's pineapple will some day be removed.”

“Let us pray!” cried Percival's mother. And so Percival, and his mother and father, and all the soldiers in their tank began to pray. God heard them and soon an angel appeared, who said:

If you have something on your dick and you try to get it off by putting something else on your dick, you will be damned. But if you put your faith in God, you will be saved.” And just like that the pineapple slid off Percival's dick.

And so children, God speaks to us in many ways, even through genital boils. What Percival learned was that when a woman asks you to penetrate her fruit, it goes against God's will, and you should be content with your painfully throbbing dick.

The Universe Rolls On

The Universe Rolls On

You prayed for time to stop its wheels
As if you knew there were a god
The parts of you I see are of bone and real
But in your mind there's something odd

Something

Hazy, fading
With the moment gone
Conscious surrenders
To the dryad's song
Mystics, physics
Wave the magic wand
Atma forever
The universe rolls on

You stay in bed and close your eyes
Wishing that you'd disappear
Until your flesh breathes out a sigh
And you admit that you're still here

You're still

Hazy, fading
With the moment gone
Conscious surrenders
To the dryad's song
Mystics, physics
Wave the magic wand
Atma forever
The universe rolls on

No matter how deep you hurt
Or how profoundly you feel numb
I'll love this animated dirt
Your being that becomes

Something
Hazy, fading
With the moment gone
Conscious surrenders
To the dryad's song
Mystics, physics
Wave the magic wand
Atma forever
The universe rolls on

Sunday 15 September 2013

Bukowski Loathed

Bukowski Loathed

Leave us Chinaski
Leave us his racing slips and beer.
Leave us your model of what one shouldn't read
Grown amongst the flowers sits
A gnarled and wizened weed.

Oh you love to harp 
About how we should be
Don't you know
We are loathed
Loathed like Bukowski

Leave us with Henry
Leave us his factories and jails
Leave us your model of what one shouldn't do
When the clouds have passed your eyes
The sky will remain blue.

Oh you love to harp 
About how we should be
Don't you know
We are loathed
Loathed like Bukowski

Leave us Bukowski

Leave us Bukowski
Leave us his cigarettes and whores
Leave us your model of what one shouldn't be
The stars are dim, dim at day
But in the night they're free

Oh you love to harp 
About how we should be
Don't you know
We are loathed
Loathed like Bukowski

Tuesday 9 July 2013

The Only Fruit

The Only Fruit

I

When we were young we looked to you
For pleasure and for pride
We tried to climb your blackened limbs
But your thorns stabbed our sides

Older then, we looked again
But now for fuel and frame
And so we thought to cut your trunk
Yet axes bounced back lame

We left without a meaning clear
For we will ever fail
And the dire wind that drove us home
Filled your autumnal sails

The only fruit, those dried up leaves
Blown from your dreary tree
We catch between a string of sighs
And crumbling ennui

II

The village spat until you moved 
To dribble on the town
The mangle of the city clamped shut
Your jaw and you drowned

Friend, you could have been the darling
Light of every shore
But you were chained up on the rocks
Before the sea's cold roar

Yet I'll drink until a mirage
Smiling comes to me
And I'm caught between a string of sighs
And crumbling ennui


The only fruit comes in a glass

That's swallowed with a grin
And the dire gale that drove us here
Blew from within.

Tuesday 25 June 2013

Traction Show

Traction Show

Those old men spend their last days
Working on immobile steam engines:
It is some fucking hobby.


Saturday 15 June 2013

Euphoric Flashback (Take 2)

Euphoric Flashback (Take 2)

 

Dreamlike an astronaut paced like a spirit

The folk in the forest were chasing their hit

How simple the substance made you an ethereal

Being



You're back on the drug that you thought had all drained

And that kid in the photograph swaggers on stage

Those motorbike engines will scream through the trees

Once more



It must be a chemical within my brain

That infinite void where we are the same

I pray in that place that you'll never forget

About me



Dripped from your third eye the horror escaped

You cried laughter the instant your senses were faked

And yet you left the wood to its moans when you aged

Into dread



They said some year soon that you'd have to pay -

Smoke winds through the woods like a veil blown away

You remember a junkie who stared at nothing

At peace



It must be a chemical within my brain

That infinite void where we are the same

I pray in that place that you'll never forget

About me



You're drilling a tunnel back into those days

With your hole of a synapse that still reeks of haze

And your tread remains buoyant in spite of depressant

Effects



You want to describe that far towering sight

But your blood holds the only communion of night

And your words are submerged and you cannot bring them

Into view



It must be a chemical within my brain

That infinite void where we are the same

I pray in that place that you'll never forget

About me

Monday 13 May 2013

My Body Again Disagreed With My Head


My Body Again Disagreed With My Head

I told myself that I'm happy alone
Then dreamt of limbs wrapped together in bed
Thus when I found that I woke on my own
My body again disagreed with my head

In older days it would be a haunting
They'd call the priest in low tones of dread
To silence the devil his daemonic taunting
A crucifix pressed against me till it fled

Crop


Crop

A crop has grown within my brain
The harvest of a neural strain
It bears the rotting of our faith
I pluck the fruit to fill a space
To crowd the horror of the void
That nectar drowns my empty hive -
Pour those weepings in a cup
Drink up, drink up

Here's a drink for every wasted hour
That you spent with me
Lap it up and don't be sober
Drink that crop of misery

I wear my own mammalian skin
It feels like I'm an alien
An insect crawling in the sun
Beneath my conscious light I run
From brightness to the dark alone
To safety in the closing gloam -
Pour your madness in a cup
Drink up, drink up

Here's a drink for every wasted hour
That you spent with me
Lap it up and don't be sober
Drink that crop of misery

That sheaf feels rough held in your hand
You've grown the crop of this bleak land
And though the mill stone grinding is
The only music left for us
We will never leave this hated
Plot dried out emaciated -
Pour your struggle in a cup
Drunk up, drink up

Here's a drink for every wasted hour
That you spent with me
Lap it up and don't be sober
Drink that crop of misery

Sunday 7 April 2013

Napowrimo 3 - Blinker


Blinker

Five hours awake
                                         Scope of my vision
Our needs are met
                                         Healthcare decisions
Professional services
                                         Hiring now
Dribbling milk
                                         Cult of the cow
Thought for the day
                                         Tariff is empty
Charging my mood
                                         Your heat is plenty
Thought would be safer
                                         Bodies are weak
The landslide will settle
                                         Nuzzling cheeks
Like flint in your hand
                                         Scoring a groove
Divined upon bones
                                         On abacus moved
Forever the saint
                                         A small effigy
Electrical lights
                                         Will never be free


Wednesday 3 April 2013

NaPoWriMo 1 - Our Flat

Our flat

When Paul moved in
I unpacked myself
First by droplets
Then whole organs
I'm surrounded by tubs of rotting food
And empty vodka bottles
It's time we did some dishes
Once we get the strength
I'd like to eject the rubbish from my flat
As the phlegm is ejected from my throat
I slither among my things like mucous
Collecting decay and slowing down
I've a copy of Bukowski
Everyone's too embarrassed to read
We've still not unpacked
There is no space
We never did anything there anyway
Our flat is packed with stolen goods
Of value totalling six pounds
Prime among them the Causewayend Code:
We keep our hands to ourselves
And never hurt with words.