like a patient etherised upon a table

Smoking Victory

2012-01-31T12:26:00.000-08:00

Smoking Victory

Anxiety is undeniably present in this state of mind

Where a deliberate preoccupation has replaced the nation’s occupations.

There’s a totalitarian government regime, and, us, we’re part of a larger machine

Working,

Walking,

Watching,

Waiting –

For the order to be passed down the line

And it will happen in time.

Because, there will be time,

But nor for tea or toast

Or anything of that kind.

Our malevolent masters look on from afar

Sit back, relax, and puff on their Cuban cigars

As we stand smoking Victory

And, that my friends, is what sickens me.

Institutionalised beliefs have been put under the cosh and scrutinised,

They have been weighed, measure and found more than lacking.

There’s more that a few oligarchs at the top in need of sacking

But, their daddies had a direct debit to the same place as David’s daddy

So nobody’s going anywhere – Bullingdon - there all “pally pally”.

And the NHS has a much value as LOL or OMG

Just another meaningless acronym used by you and me

To show our apathy, but actually

We feign our disregard for the powers that be

Because when the sirens sound

We fall in line

And that, my friends, is the most terrifying sign.

Our protests are useless

Because in this world our opinions are used less.

Democracy has played into the hands of the capitalist.

I think the end starts like this.

Bin Day

2012-01-24T08:35:00.000-08:00

It was the second Tuesday of the month, in the morning,
and you never forget that’s your day to take out the bins.
I walked down the stairs like a chick hatching, yawning,
at the pains of last nights much repented disgraceful sins,
the sickening smell of stale sweat slowly rose up
from the sea of empty wrappers and beer cans.
I turned on the tap, let the water run, filled the cup.
I sipped my drink, wondered a bit, and then tripped on the pans
so tidied round the kitchen ever so slightly, a bit,
Shouted your name, "sorry", knocked on the spare room
expectantly. Nothing. On the floor, a strand of your hair.
Melancholy, I stopped, stared and thought, and it hit.
It hurt, it was hard, much more than a sense of impending doom.
That was the moment I realised the bins were still there.

The Artist

2012-01-06T17:03:00.000-08:00

he sat down at his desk and took out a pen
got a few pieces of paper and started to draw the same image again and again
it was a woman, side portrait view, with symbols floating around.
that was it. finished
he stood up from his chair folded them and put them in his pocket.

those drawings were his life his most prized possession and he guarded them
he took them everywhere they were never out of sight.

Then he lost track of whats good and whats right,
he was corrupt half were gone, out of sight.
mental breakdown ensued he threw it all away,
threw some in the fire and some on the floor, but not in the bin,
not him, that was not his job he didn't clean up

no he never cleaned that was not for him
it was for that pretty little foreign thing with cheaply dyed hair
and the bright green eyes that radiate jealousy when she's around.
green the colour of jealousy, of envy.
her left to clean up his mess.

what he threw away wasn't his, no he was commissioned,
to make it, use it wisely and safe guard it,
it wasn't his to throw but he did and far,
he messed it all up and did his usual routine

fucked off and left someone else to clean.

A Toast To You

2011-11-15T14:32:00.001-08:00

Spreading eloquence across the surface,
Shimmering like foil at sunrise in a magpies nest.
Soft and strong, enough of each to notice,
The strength and weakness, better than the rest.

Delving down to the depths of the box,
Scraping in corners, getting the lot.
Danger always lurks at the door, it knocks
From time to time, soft then strong then not.

Fit for two purposes, for multi-tasking.
Running deep through blood and butter,
Which one? I'm not asking.
The baker, the butcher, which one's the nutter.

The tool of two trades,
Found in kitchens, homes,
Amidst police raids
And in war zones.

A toast to you
A weapon, a tool.
A toast to you
A tradesman, a fool.

Books on a Train

2011-11-10T10:00:00.000-08:00

Trains are like spaceships
push buttons open doors
to new worlds
full of new beings
malevolently contrived to
disturb
your reading

trains are like spaceships
that are stuck on one track
to nostalgic old worlds
where nobody cares
about
your reading

trains are like spaceships
full of old dinosuars
munching and crunching on
everything in sight.

No use reading.

The Revilement

2011-11-08T15:29:00.000-08:00

The Revilement

May your life always be
ever so slightly worse than mine ,
to comfort me.

May you fail where I succeed.
May you walk in my shadow and
ask me to pity you.

May you run like the wind
when I run like usain,
fast.

May you not get tickets to see The Stone Roses
and me get four and sell two,
not to you, to spite you.

May you get a blackberry
when I've got an iPhone
and resent me.

May you be eternally shackled to a boring old woman
when I'm off galavanting with a young new thing,
a model of some kind.

May you have four gig
When I've got six
and an i5.

May you eternally ponder the question of life
when I have answered it
many times.

May you always be
that little bit worse than me,
so I sleep well at night.

MMXI

2011-10-23T10:49:00.001-07:00

Like a shadow at night

you left my side

-but not like a shadow

shadows come back.

It was April

cold and miserable

but shadows remained

small delicate shadows

where passion once moved.

The morning rain

was wet and cold

its vague dirty nostalgia

hit me square in the face

and curdled, melancholy.

In the corner of the room

an empty bed

nobody there

an empty bed.

Superfluous evocations of dirty nightmares

plagued the surrounding objects, inanimate

yet exulting displeasure

at the putrid…

To exult displeasure

what a wonderful feeling.

The adequate poppies bedraggled.

There was a man in the corner

malevolently twisting his hair.

Beauty had once sat with him

but left like the shadow in the night.

Meaning ceased, to him, to mean.

In the corner of the room

an empty bed

nobody there

an empty bed.

Thievery violence order.

Snobbery aptitude chaos.

A paradigm in itself

created by powers that no longer be

but govern

and tell you how to live,

live in vast self-deprecating nostalgia

dreaming of the shadows that once occupied your life.

In the corner of the room

an empty bed

nobody there

an empty bed.

Rejoice

2011-10-22T09:58:00.000-07:00

Delve into the depths of your ethereal wisdom,
And pluck,
Pluck beautiful evocative images.
Rejoice.

@Misanthrope14

2011-10-17T13:08:00.000-07:00

@Misanthrope14

@Misanthrope14 How was I supposed to know this was just a short tweet thing, I didn’t want it to end. And now you’re gone. 140 characters

23:21 pm 10/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 just aren’t enough to say the things we need to say. All I ask is that you re-tweet, maybe follow. Is a direct message too

23:23 pm 10/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 much to ask for? Don’t I come up on your who to follow? I click browse interests and we share the same things. On the right

23:25 pm 10/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 your top of my recently viewed. I look back at our past tweets, there’s only a few. But I know that they mean something

23:27 pm 10/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 you tweet with eloquence and your words are gorgeous. I’m tired now, going to sleep #DreamingOfYou

23:29 pm 10/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 Morning Beautiful. Tweet me back…

09:07 am 11/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 I’m taking an e-lunch, join me??

13:23 pm 11/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 #missingyou

17:42 pm 11/05/2011

@Misanthrope14 OK I get the message, you don’t want to tweet me. I’ll leave you be.

ERROR 1571: WE ARE UNABLE TO SEND YOUR MESSAGE. THE ACCOUNT MISANTHROPE14 IS UNAVAILABLE.

Dear World

2011-10-16T03:39:00.000-07:00

Dear World

Dear world,
I don't wanna stay no more,
Because I've had it up to here,
With your lack of regard,
For morals, decency and other such things.
The way the life spirals down
And just gets a lot worse
Really really just depresses me
And I don't think I can take anymore.
There's no point in being heard in a world that doesn't listen,
So don't judge me if i swim in my misery,
'Cause if I told you my story you'd only hear.
So ill just sit here in this comfy chair
And ill moan and ill groan and into the abyss of life I'll stare.
But don't worry,
I wont do anything about it.
I'm just like you.

Poem's Can be Catholic Too!

2011-10-10T06:09:00.000-07:00

Poem's Can Be Catholic Too!

Forgive me Father
For I have sinned.

I repent, but I know
I'm bad, bad to the meter.

In line one
I enticed them in.
They were gripped -
Hook, line and sinker.

Line two I dropped the cliche bomb.
Bang!
I'm sorry Father, I stole from Will.
I'm no great thinker.

I try you see.

Lines three through eight were great,
Well, that's in my humble opinion.

But then, line nine and ten,
Hmphh, I went bad again.

***

I thought I was really good,
I guess I was pretty wrong.

***

11, 12, 13 - I'm sorry again.
It's just, well I could smell the fame.
"He's the new Hughes", they shouted.

Line 14 I went in again.
Finished in there, made it a sonnet,
Thought, "That'll make people want it".

I'm sorry, again,
But that's not the worst of it,
No, it's far from it Father.

You see, they put it in a magazine,
There for all to see,
Again, I am so so sorry.

To show my repentance Father,
I give you this gift,
Here, take my pen,
Now I cannot sin again.

Imagine

2011-09-05T10:19:00.005-07:00

Imagine

Imagine if I woke up and you weren’t there,

Went downstairs and you were nowhere to be seen,

Go outside,

Still no you, just me.

Walk down the street take a right turn,

No you just me.

Left, left right then straight thirty yards,

Stop off at the shop to see if your there.

Your not, just me and that guy that looks funny at us.

Right, up the hill, then down a little bit,

Bus to town,

No you…

Walk around for a while –

round and round.

No you just me.

Oh- I forgot – you left….

Imagine that

My World, Your World, Our World

2011-08-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

I look down at this world so queer.
A world we made.
Grandiose decadence,
Base, lawless, malevolence.
Such strong feelings strife amongst us.

Top hats, ties and cigars,
Baseball caps, bandanas and marijuana,
United by love, hate, and so much more.

Oh- this, my shameless world,
Cowers to no man, poor nor rich.

Still,
Grandiose malevolence,
Base, lawless decadence.

Queer queer world.
So similar, yet so different.

The Impotence of Importance. No Importance of Impotence.

2011-07-27T07:31:00.000-07:00

The Impotence of Importance. No Importance of Impotence.
I was once going about with a girl named kelly,
Then things got serious and she grew a big belly.

I ran off and she chased me with a gun,
Now it three years later, I'm stuck with her and three kids, and yeah, it aint fun!!

Love is the Worst Kind of Music

2011-07-27T07:20:00.001-07:00

Love is the Worst Kind of Music

All the musics been wrote
and all the songs sung.

All that remains is...

Is notes of what used to be,
sickly twanging at the strings of my heart.

Aspire

2011-07-25T12:10:00.000-07:00

Aspire

I can be what I wanna be
if I put my mind to it,
Do what I wanna do
if I work hard for it,
Take what I wanna take
well, if I pay for it,
And go where I wanna go,
if I can be bothered with it.

But that aint me.

Whispers of Mortality

2011-07-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

Whispers of Mortality

There is sin in your creation darling.

Eyes so vibrant, glowing when tearful.

-Ah- tropical waterfalls.

Such enviable lips, enticing a kiss -

Embrace me my truculent temptress.

Oh, how my love for you grows still

When I thought all my love was already given you.

I can give you no more but myself.

But still whispers of mortality curse us both,

Eternity can never be ours.

You, the steadfast rock beneath me,

My foundation,

Remain strong.

The End

2011-07-20T13:54:00.001-07:00

The End

We come to the end

And we question, regret,

And all the bad things we can’t forget

Come rushing to our minds –

Our joys, our woes.

We mock our mutual melancholy.

We ponder our perpetual pessimism.

And question,

Question.

Think Of Me When The Lights Have Gone Out At Night, When You Can’t Sleep And Don’t Know What To Do Anymore.

2011-07-20T13:53:00.000-07:00

Think Of Me When The Lights Have Gone Out At Night, When You Can’t Sleep And Don’t Know What To Do Anymore.

Think of me then.

Pathways

2011-07-20T13:52:00.000-07:00

Pathways

So we turn back,

Back to the paths we once ignored

To the tedious contemplation

Of events that we can no longer truly remember.

Because guess what? They weren’t that important.

Bumble Bees and Honey Pots

2011-07-20T04:24:00.000-07:00

This poem previously appeared on my first blog

bumble bees and honey pots

the single Black Rose that lies on her bare stomach

the single White Lilly on the coffin top

the way that you trip when you walk up the stairs

the way that you work out things unknown

the smell of the morning that rises from bellow

the light of the night that lets you see more

the tiny pitter-patter of the baby’s small feet

the loud chimes of your grandfather’s clock

all this and so much more

means nothing when the honeys all gone and the bees stop buzzing.