Waster

Waster

Waste shoots down municipal tunnels

Gargles through holes

Is stirred with chemicals till sterile
Then pumped into the waters

I dwell on the thought that my molecules

Will return pristine to the biosphere
The recycling gives me comfort

I will become waste too

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

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!

Traction Show

Traction Show

Those old men spend their last days

Working on immobile steam engines:

It is some fucking hobby.

Planet

Planet

Islands sink and sailors drink and

Land flows into the sea

As rigs explode, the set is closed

Around the river and me

I try to write yet it drips life

From depths I'll never beat

A pattern sewn by Earth alone

My stitching cannot pleat

From cycled waves of maelstrom graves

For bodies overboard

Come insect young, born on the tongues

Of heads that wash ashore

I can't begin to comprehend

The rules that spawned this hell

My thoughts wear down and circle round

Like convicts in their cells

We scuttle on this astral skull

Before our solar Ra

But human lips will never kiss

The tongue of the enigma

Our planet sets its hunting nets
Of time and patient pace

As one who floats among the suns

And far from human grace

Solstice

Solstice

When there's singing, loud and bright,

In a major key,

You're alive;

The weather's light;

We're sipping by the sea.

When I'm hooked on a buzzing,

Drunken symphony,

You're alive

And this warm night

We're all here

And happy.

Your skin is paper for the wind,

Your papers have been kept.

Your ash spelled out a final word,

And all your friends have wept.

We listened to the watchers pace,

We heard their dull steps fall.

Once more, they lit your blackened oil,

As it spluttered in its bowl.

Again, until the lamp had died,

And we blinked within the gloom;

Until the draining of the tide,

And the setting of the moon.

How this year was made so wide,

By the season of your doom.

Now faint, the solstice sun aligns

With the doorway of your tomb.

Wheeze

Without a sigh, or mournful speech, you left

me drowning, pickled with sweetest drink,

fallen, wheezing evaporating breath.

I'm familiar with that terminal rest;

you don't need to hope, or to heal, or think.

Without a sigh, or mournful speech, you left.

I lodge on a friend's couch, totally wrecked,

survivor of this damned horrific stink

fallen, wheezing evaporating breath.

Those who ripped me from their brains in wrath

send me no hate-mail penned with anthrax ink;

without a sigh, or mournful speech, you left.

And those gone, dependent on lines of meth,

I sympathise with the way that you think;

fallen, wheezing evaporating breath.

But you who left me for the whims of death,

who knew that booze could be such a foul jinx?

Without a sigh, or mournful speech, you left,

fallen, wheezing evaporated breath.

Drunken Poem

Drunken Poem

gleaming shards form
polished lines upon sheets sewn
with hazy mist
dark raingathers
awaiting purpose:
the tumult
slashes, flows
slips the realisation.
the storm
blasts apart humanity
denying their grip on meaning
like a confused kid
with a razor blade
praying to the deity
for creation's end

Speyicide

I first sang this song at fourteen years old

Skipping class, to free my head, and walking home alone
Stood upon the bridge of Spey, imagined how I'd drown
I wanted free of life and pain, so I wrote this down:

I want to get fucked and jump in the Spey
I want to get fucked and be dragged away
I want to get fucked and float to the moon
I want to get fucked and drown in the monsoon
But dying would solve nothing
So I might as well just live
The world is my afterlife
Life is my abyss

Felt my life was worth nothing, and wanted it stopped
Was a cog turning in an - unintelligible clock
Wished I could escape to a realm beyond my breath
Though I hadn't realised what it meant to accept death

I want to get fucked and jump in the Spey
I want to get fucked and be dragged away
I want to get fucked and float to the moon
I want to get fucked and drown in the monsoon
But dying would solve nothing
So I might as well just live
The world is my afterlife
Life is my abyss
But dying would solve nothing
So I might as well just live
The world is my afterlife
Life is my abyss

Now I'm old, cantankerous, broken, shredded, torn
When I've truly wished for death, I don't regret being born
And all that remains of my nihilistic teenage gloom
Is a fourteen year old little me, trapped in that catchy tune

I want to get fucked and jump in the Spey
I want to get fucked and be dragged away
I want to get fucked and float to the moon
I want to get fucked and drown in the monsoon
But dying would solve nothing
So I might as well just live
The world is my afterlife
Life is my abyss
But dying would solve nothing
So I might as well just live
The world is my afterlife
Life is my abyss

ZEN

The failure of pop philosophy to engage with problems facing some real people.

ZEN

Embraced, as one,
a meek self-loathing.
Still never come
amid driven down clothing.

Bending yet still;
still tonguing your Zen.
Stroking the drill
amid driven, drunk, young men.

Nocturne solemn.
Watched sparks on asphalt:
zapping coulombs,
amid driven spray and salt.

Endless squalor;
precipitous ridge.
Phobic, and poor,
amid driven carriages.

Reincarnate:
sweet old madrigal,
send me a fate
amid driven animals.