[This short story was written around summer 2001 while i was living in London and is heavily indebted to all the jack kerouac i was imbibing at the time..] It started with another stinky tube ride. Everyone was loaded up with bags, sleepy and mongy, we caught the nasty-o northern line, half empty that Saturday … Read more
I hang out on debateanatheist on reddit, trying to be satisfied, but something’s just missing y’know? i can’t tell when i lost the ability to be satisfied by logic. Now i need some crazy to feel like life has a meaning. I’m hooked on the mystery like a drug. Sure i love physics, but even … Read more
Another mind splinter seems to have gone in.. after half a bottle of wine.. i wake with a black hole of chlorodyne forgetfulness. Dreaming of hospital beds, cancer, this could be only ten years away. I am calm about it – what’s to fear? The unravelling is a great peace. There is a sudden weakness … Read more
A sudden plosm creates echoes. Later i exhume the body of an old pet, and notice that the chickens are all gone. So now is the time for wine and music… the blood on my fingers.. picking up the guitar the snow begins to fall, cooling my mind like a song. Several days at home … Read more
Taken some new portraits of me as a poetaster, and making images as part of general renovations to the ‘poem library’ and other parts of this site. Tortured or disgruntled? On the red chair in the blue room. With books. Do I look poetry enough? Too Lord Byron?
new poems.. like new leaves on trees soon to be felled. the darkness the darkness.. what is the simplest path now? the straightest path leads into emptiness .. the vast gasp of new verbiage heaping onto blogs, spilling from pages into vacant minds, pictures pouring into eyes. the heart like a tickertape machine, printing painful … Read more
If opium were more widely available, I would take that rather than red wine on some nights (I have a glass of red by my hand as I write this). Michael Dransfield I suppose was of the same opinion. Coleridge, Hafiz; – it is recognisably a poet’s addiction. The few poems I have written under … Read more
I have daydreamd through the year. Here we are at the end again. war i find accumulating knowledge only confuses things. peace somehow there is a rock in the centre of my life which keeps us safe. but i dream of travel and madness again like old days. war a shaft of cold air in … Read more
ooh what a contradictory mess. bjm + fart + bandwagon + idiot wine + corck + bagawan at 6 to midnight. what about the water pissstol? i think there is a sort of revolution about to happen. I always think this. bulle and pull the titoff. methodrone strange juxtposition. i refuse to agree that i … Read more
It occurs to me that the question ‘why do i feel?’ is answered through an exploration of that feeling, through an indulgence in the substrate of that question. To unrestrainedly debauch oneself in abeyance to the ultimate ‘why?’ is the path of the true seeker of love and of sorrow. Only through complete immersion in … Read more