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Sunday, December 10, 2017

Doing the Brexit shuffle
It bugs
They dance
She cats
He dogs

Envelopes are sealed
Throats are frogged
Bins are maggoted

The Welsh are in fits
The English are stroking
The Cornish have a clavicle

So many merry men
And soldiers skipping lightly
Clink the trophy jars

Incoming Incoming
Rearrange flowers
Lobster lips in sticky clench

Viewer blocked
Hearts made to dangle
Liver me timbres

Enoch is not enough
Amen in the corner
Ghastly fish bowl reflection

Biffer Bacon
We slipped off the log
The goats are free

Look here
Amazing grace
Sung in an igloo

Pieces of after eight
Voodoo Vikings
A whiff of Roman oyster

Merry Christmas Jennifer Lawrence
Mines a Tenko Truck
You put a sock in it

We are where we are
You be won the win
Albion the other side

sketched by dweller at 5:29 pm
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Wednesday, March 08, 2017

Me or You
Me or you, 
The emptiness of my stomach 
After decades
Feels like a final wall with no door. 
The maze with no exit. 
But no matter, 
In a jiffy the smell will pass, 
I can get transported by Captain Kirk 
or Spock. Whoever is at home. 
I have taken a liking to streaky bacon. 
Also limes. 
I believe in limes. Squeeze them with your fingers. 
Honest it is like a giver of truth. 
Those green balls of organic acid. 
Get the juice all over. 
Limey limey limey 
hot bathtub baby
little goat watching baaaaaaa
And I check my blood pressure now. 
I have a little chart. 
Bing Bong the heart it still beats mister man mister man oh mister man you is alive. 
But Carrie no she dead mister man. Sorry. 
Yeah and if you ever have a fruitfly problem just leave some wine in a bottle.
They all go in and they love it. 
It's like a fruitfly spa. They get naked, drunk, swim shag. All that. No wonder they never come out. 
Your half rotten bananas are safe!!! 
Yes, that is good. Uneaten fruit. If I'm not going to benefit from the youthful elixir of ten boring blobs a day then no dang recumbent gene little fly that makes no sound is gonna get it neither. 
So where was I. 
Fixing to not die. 
Syd Barrett was photographed in our back garden with a ginger cat. 
Has to be our garden. I reckon some time in the 60s hobvisciouslee before my mum and dad and sister moved in. 
Could be. would explain a lot. 
All my psychedelic dreams. 
The snail farm. 
The action men.
The circus. 
The Spaniards, Greeks, Texans etc.
Explains it all.
And now what do we get?
Curly Kale and couch to 5K.
Don't do it kids!! 
I'm with Arnie - shag the maid. 
May as well.

sketched by dweller at 12:48 am
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Wednesday, February 08, 2017

I gave her the blob

sketched by dweller at 12:06 am
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Tuesday, February 07, 2017

Warrior Heart Pounders

sketched by dweller at 11:53 pm
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Friday, February 03, 2017

House price inflation
House price inflation is not due to lack of supply of housing stock but to do with the dangerously high credit banks are permitted to lend.

sketched by dweller at 10:52 pm
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Sunday, November 27, 2016

People Farming
"It doesn't take a genius to work out what ever-increasing house prices do to an economy. All that money is pissed away on rent or mortgages, with the only winners being the banks (which make a killing off the loans) and those who own more than one property (i.e. the wealthy). Everyone else drowns in debt or struggles to make ends meet, but each penny they spend on housing is a penny that is not spent elsewhere in the economy. More specifically, it is a penny that is not spent in areas of the economy that are actually productive, that actually employ people and that actually produce things.

This situation simply cannot continue. With ever-increasing house prices, employers have to pay higher wages, which in turn makes Britain less competitive on a global level. With no rent controls or restrictions on the numbers of properties people can own, a small number of people can effectively become feudal lords. That's not hyperbole: these people, who had capital to begin with and simply invested it in real estate before house prices got absurd, make millions of pounds simply by sitting on their asses and collecting rent each month. The people they live off actually work, and therefore contribute to society, but the landlords do not need to work - indeed, it is actually more lucrative to give up work altogether."

sketched by dweller at 7:02 pm
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Thursday, February 04, 2016

Ventured to the west and returned by way of the south
Ventured to the west and returned by way of the south,
Damaged the axle of the wagon and she parted with the fight half started,
I called back and sent my echo bouncing off the canyon walls,
Eggnog on Tuesday without the wafers please,
So she came and delivered that fateful morn,
When I thought I woke with a yawn,
Don’t ask me why young inquisitive fawn,
She led me to the gilded palace of early dawn,

Where the range is home and we ride the slipstream in moonlight.

sketched by dweller at 9:24 pm
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Ten tonnes of crystal meth
Ten tonnes of crystal meth,
I couldn’t watch breaking bad because the nylon was too strong,
Instant sweat and bo
Like having a picnic on astroturf
So I got stuck in to game of thrones
Ee by gum,
 Northern  leather clad heroes smashing
 Horrible roman perverts
Sweaty, yes, but smelly no.
All the grit and grime on screen  did not have a whiff of stinky feet.
Same with Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.
No Odour. Pure clean mossy bank waterfall.
 No noxious armpit stench.

But Break Bad, man that hummed. Turn it off I can’t take the smell.
 Dead bodies, chemical labs, tension, surburban living rooms.

So I guess I’m a sucker for sweet smelling grime.

sketched by dweller at 9:22 pm
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videogames sketches
these are just some unfinished trial lines for when I was doing the 
thing inspired by Video Games by Lana Del Rey

Running up the snowflake

Method acting cop show
Putting down the dog bowl

Teacher’s name is Vishnu
Friends in Modadishu
Playing hideous games

Kids in little cages
Being killed by sages

He loves me not

sketched by dweller at 9:20 pm
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This day of fire and woody growth
The birds are woken, the bulbs do stir
I dreamt of clouds all tinged with rainbow
I saw great whales on beaches tremble
Fierce storms of sun fire pulsed through space
And shook our earth’s magnetic cloak
The poles did dance and left their homes
They shifted hearts and minds unwell
Confused the course of mighty mammals
Boats did sink and bodies swelled
Some pink faced men did shout in shame
Blamed others for themselves to gain
Yet beyond this fight for oil and god
The sun fires flares as if to say
I’ve all the energy you need right here
I am your creator let’s make that clear
Many of us feel deep inside
The power of the moon and tide
Yet the ball of fire we know so well
We miss what it is trying to tell
And as I awoke on Imbolc morn
This message in my mind was born
I’ll write it down and read it out
And share it with a friendly crowd.

sketched by dweller at 9:10 pm
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Heaven knows I’m chip shovelling now
Heaven knows I’m chip shovelling now.
Dream on stiff granny chops!
Lanky William and his dandruff dandelion gerbil.
Gladys said never and I thought she meant harlequin baby.
Murmuring bushbabies in the dark night air terrified by Art Garfunkel’s vampire grimace.

Tether the hedgehog to the mainframe and sharpen your lawnmower blade.

sketched by dweller at 9:08 pm
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