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Monday, February 28, 2005

wading through it
the murk,
the grime,
one step takes time,
the cold
the slime
slip and its over big time!!!

no its not,
it never begun
you thought you were having all the fun
eating and shitting, pissing it through
vermin gnawing at the wooly socks
all along reminding you
that the time would come
when it begins to feel real
you didn't join in with us
what you gonna do now huh?
what you gonna do now huh?
you fuck
you fucked it
huh! Huh!

yeah right leave it out
s'all nonsense innit?
You fink I dunno
about the glitzy touch of warmth
the pillows and presents
and pets and darlings
fink I been sitting by
in a spaced out hollow?
need a shake by the scruff?
need a blow from the bellow?
no not me
like the tree branches hazy
I give strength, I give support
yet I grow and keep growing high
all black and dark during winter
long seasons of dread
watching foxes owls squirrels rats
search for a bed.
I give leaves twigs branches hollows
blossom fruit shade bark life
I have ants to scratch my itches
and mould to keep me moist
did I ask you to judge me?
did I ask you to point?
want to tell me I've lost the way
well in a way I have
lost lost lost
with the techno and rhymes
the beats and the jazz
the aching heart and guitar strum
the voice of pain and richness love
singing sounds of the vision
point the finger at the sky
blue sky grey sky cloud
cracks open
point one finger
point one finger
and say no more...

sketched by dweller at 7:46 pm
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Sunday, February 27, 2005

put your ear to my wall
What would you hear?
Me stumbling from room to room
tripping over newspapers and other untidy obstructions.
Plunging the blocked sink over and over again.
Flicking on the tv and watching the odd thing .
Tuning in the radio while I cook or plunge the
fucking sink again.
Turning them off again.
A kettle boiling.
The bleep of a nokia.
Coughing up of flem and me spitting it into the toilet or
a mug chosen to receive the gunk.
Ripping off of a piece of toilet paper and me blowing
my nose into it.

When I wake up in the morning I hear the sounds
of birds singing outside. They always sing beautifully.
No walled-in sick and neurotic coughs and bangs from them.

sketched by dweller at 12:34 am
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Thursday, February 24, 2005

sore throated again
God, my throat is burning burning burning!!!
Still, never mind all that, I am here writing sweet nothings again.
Here at my favourite place, child without an eye.

So much news,
so many things to tell myself
and this page of bytes all lit up as words.
Curly words, straight lines of nothing.
Empty hollows. Odds and evens.
Where to begin?
Where to end?
It will all end in tears, thats a given.
I will swallow on this wretched winter eve.
Throw in a few key words.
Hunter S Thompson.
That cunt from BabyShambles.
The Pope almost on a rope.
Dresden and Auschwitz.

Back to the room.
I do sneeze loudly, sorry neighbours.
A danish croissant or sunburnt crossed bun?
^^^ thats a riddle.

Hot bath, didn't work,
gargle salt water, did'nt work
ginger and garlic, didn't work
fresh clementines, didn't work
vits and cod liver oil, didn't work
They are not meant to,
I subconciously get into these foul viral states
so that I'll sit at this bladerunner screen
and add more entries to this shit trawlers guide
to the the englishxy.

so read 'em and weep.
you want to know about the minutiae of
anothers life?
or do you want to slide around bellystyle on the
frisbee hovercraft xenon slipstream?

stick around as I slowly find out
what the buttons on this craft do

sketched by dweller at 11:32 pm
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Thursday, February 17, 2005

post from bulldog hell
so this dreadful ripoff company calling
themselves bulldog broadband have ensnared me
in the longest wait for an internet setup
I have ever experienced...

I am still updating this blog from an internet cafe.
ah well, serves me right for trying the "too cheap to be true" option.

sketched by dweller at 12:21 pm
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