Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Mentally Ill

Daksha is not skin
Upanishad is falling and failing and thin and tearing out hair

I said Eeyore
Not E-Whore

I said I said

yer dyed yer hair dead
as is red
as was
will be
just one cheap glass of charlemagne
then a fight fight dumb head
clean and sing
you are a thing

your hobo is on fire

and I 'ave stolen a shot

oh. my blood is bitch

whoring when I pay you,
a boring romantic
no heaviness this time

if deep dead
turns you on

now is

i said

i will play piano
not very well
but one of you may like

i was alive
at 3 in the morning
too many main road car drivers
I disagreed with myself in the light of weakness
snow is falling
each one different

but i fear

only 42 types of brain

Punk Gay Christian was....

bring in the femme
I shall work
for the life

and create anything and everything i like

merci, comprende pas...je suis...


even brawling is boring...
Marlowe stabbed a guy in the eye
It's my turn

believe this is not my true feeling


is a policy

for dividends

hidden in a rembrandt biscuit tin...

Salut!! water water water

(breaking out through poetry 12/27/o5)

daksha is not skin
upanishad is feeling thin and empty and falling and hair pulled out and wandering and nowhere to hide
and daksha is cunning
and could be in the very same area as you...paranoia does fool


hold my heart in
hold my heart in
hold my heart in
hold my heart in

there's no-one here


hold my heart in
the bandage is round my arm
and the man is in black; arms stretched out
i hold my inside to stop it from falling out
don't know what i do
what i see
white ray floated away

like silk
and all my promises broken
and i woke up to another day
got pilled
got mentally
and physically killed

I thought you were dead!

A cat! A cat!

Jump away
Afraid to sink when the stink is around me

Where are you? not physically true
Where are you? not there in front of me speaking or listening

I heard a girl pray from far away
And I prayed with her for my life


How do I................................??????????

Modern 19th Century Girl...British

Musing? How Amusing?!
Let me play with words
to have seen good life
is too
and bad life
you shall suffer know more

to more and to cleanse my head each night
until i exorcise only myself and get screeched backs of real live voices i would have you hear
and convert only a puppy dog tragic tragic
I am appalled if just one day is tragic
until they congregate
i leave my door open for a knock
i take a chance, ha! fool....hahahaha i can ken, i ken laugh.



I have tried to have a thought conversation
yet I was swaying the twitch in his eye too often
it is right and good to give space
drugs and money
smoking all his circles
i forgive
i run
i shoot
and then i regret
was Anne Milton a person ??
or Annabella Milbanke ??
or was the lurid square modernic playzone a ploy for money or real teacher effort
stay me away from childishness
I have the age of 30 in which to semenise myself
excuse the punkish poet
I have cross hits invading each space and i know not which side to take
and there you would have it said
that i take all

but i have asked for nothing as that is the all-being

was 'pull me into a dark room'
silently silently i mean to pray pray gothic old and candles and read me words
bless bless bless

time to celebrate...not regurgitate

choose a good book
steel thyself
reveal your home is the city of Lo
the city the city the city....all cities
ndon and all disappearing vestiges of choleric Bohemia
ah! a screamer...non non non...
avian flu n the takeaway neo

neo gray
neo cement
neo wandering of discontent

reveal your country is the countryside...
walks in the park
and a bicycle instead of a horse
breathe in fully the frosty air
give care

You should be careful

care full care full
meaning, meaning, meaning?
modern replacements

and sense relations
and an end to dishonourment
and an end to their dregs that jump out of their defiled heads with hazy twisted mouths that speak no human language at all...as i have an ear and eye for beauty...

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Being Silly And Crazy And Depressed

It's a Chinese/Arabic/Hebrew/Buddha Elf!!!

Watch T.V
Hope to order a Black Out
Loss Of Mind

I had said the wrong words,
I love tarts...
Hear a voice
Probably Of a large girl and she's dressed in pink and she's full of Christmas
Yet my eyes were averted and I was close to depression, said:
'You're my gay wife...' sitting alone with a cup of milky tea, about to 34th my cigarette intake
Next Year In Paris...says:


It makes me laugh for at least 45 minutes on the anniversary of Jesus' birth...
I want dances and jigs
I do not wish to punish by getting lost in the fog and in alleys
As he had scowled and ordered me to get his coat...
But the five of men's hearts is upside down
I listened to that guy...

So we left the pub
And I got high on music and very angry
no black out

and no GAY WIFE

But a mystery text message wishing me everything good...
And helping another girl who must have wanted to get lost in alleys too...

And I love Christmas
I do...
cept I'm a moo...*wink
And I didn't ask for inanimate
I won't tell you what I asked for
But I have a silver necklace and an angel cherubim pendant...

And I can't find my bible
but church tonight...*shhhhh

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Odysseus and The Swineherd

sleep by the fire
under blankets and your coat
if the fire is not burning
move yourself
to make sure
it will watch over you in the night
Eumaeus is a stranger that gives a hand in one spilt second, be careful not to miss the comfort...

Thoas threw his cloak from this century to that
to the One and all and for you
Do as Thoas would do...
...leap up and volunteer...

And He fought for me with words in time which is past which is present
In time I will hear the trumpet blown
I sleep alone




And my men were long dead
And my men are still alive

And the wrong move is made in a second
And beware of confusion
The swine might have money but not remembrance,
Could be in each ignored you room

I am only here for a while

Speak to me

And forget him not...

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

The Djinns

I hear water grumble at me ferociously as I flush the toilet,
a white leaf sinks there on which I have wiped my hands free,

I walk the same town
In circles
In which he had once driven me round
From Anne Bolynn Crescent
To a dead end village
And I always try to jump out of the passenger door
Because as I do not drive
They do not know how to stop...

I hear someone on the radio
I know I should keep away
But England is a flat country

And a dynasty is dying??

I hear them bully myself
Until I see myself on the television

And tonight I played the piano
After wandering from door to door
Chords and light middle notes
And a procession of colour
That forgets how to speak to me...

It must be time I left the country
I am here and there
Which means in truth I am nowhere...

And my head fell and hit the keys
On a low tone...

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Too Scared

I was too scared to hold on to
the ones
I knew
and the ones I didn't
ran away too...

And the ones I knew
You know I didn't think I was good enough too...

I've left them all
even when I meet them for the first time...

It's called meek...

Remember dolphins are social animals...
Tigers get too bold and look down when you beat their face...

Monday, December 19, 2005


answer the phone
wake up on time
wash your hair
make some food


I am not gay!
I am not gay!
I am not happy...


she bit my neck 'to fuck'
but the rest was not bad


differences are mirrored
in reflection of
argued opposites

Home On Time (haha)

He called on time!
Will he be home on time?
I do not know
Because I did not get to the phone on time


Never wear a push-up bra in hospital, or in airport near a danke dyke
the underwire affects the equipment.


Say Amen, when you forget to say anything else.

Say Sorry

Shaking Like Saints
Say It!




(you don't know the time scale)

you weren't even shouting inside, then
you don't like to scream
you were crying
and thinking of buying him
'sarcasm' and 'socialise'
a dictionary
to give him meaning
we all know
what the word threaten means
stop tailing the liar
let him sleep
let you dream
don't die
'don't lie!'
because I might and mighty
and foolish.

The Strand


I am so far removed,
I am not sure of my Romanticism
I am sure I am young...
perhaps memory should move a future
perhaps resting on good pasts
twists me into sorrow
where recklessness
and the future is solid...
and worries make me forget
the right moves
and loneliness makes me forget strength
and myself and platitudes
and the outside and peaceful words...
and i have become something else
and someone else is talking to me
but you forget i am right here,
and you forget yourself,
and you make large which is small
and you make bigger when they fall,
and you remember
that you forget others
when you forget there
is no-one who wishes
to hear a problem,
yet perhaps they
need real honesty
and perhaps you need a real you...


this first door
painted blue
the mother of two
this second door
painted red
bows and arrows to your head.

this other door
locked and shaken,
this next door
covered in rainbows.

this black door were
where no-one is able,
to unlock or open the stable...

white door, white door,
is a canvas
for your paint on the table,
show your card,
reveal your business,
hedonism was merely dizziness,
hedonism a door,
with numbered rules,
breaking it's frame is for fools
golden hair, golden hair,
clever sense in hedonism is so so fair!


the voice was your voice
is their mind their own?
as questions were answers
a quiz show for the presidental
ones that stay on mountains
give not spies away in
the frazzle of disconnected hope
and when all the noise was turned up
i believed i was not my own
and when war was set with headphones
my dress was reality
poverty, humble forgiveness
and theatre was the crux
and cries for help
cries for help

give not a tarry
of one channel to the next
the Lord is vexed
and the ladies need a vet
count me out
as the number of your toes
count me in
as soon as the feeling goes

16th December 2005

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Notebook Words For No-one and Everyone...

White lillies atwixt her breast
Noble words (longed for)
And unrest,
Naked trees hibernating
And two queens alone, where is the king?
As though they jest.
No word can he give to her of immediate death,
it is there above this floor,
it is there walking the frosty ground,

It is Love betrayed by a thousand shadows amongst a thousand fools.
It is Love, a ghost far sure
of it's chosen place,
And only sometimes walking through it's door.
It is Love, hurting it's own weakness, forgetting it's own strength
turning itself round to use the sword,
It is Love, that lays down it's weapons and pounds it's face with fiery fists.
It is Love, that defames it's own name,
and denies,
It is Love, that is taught by a shadow to fear itself and bow down it's head beneath the blows of an axe.
It is Love, that jumps the heart and keeps a steady wrist, to calm a held out arm and a softened palm.
It is Love, that says come join us!
And Fear that resists.
If Love is scared, life is half lived,
If Love is not spoken, then lovers have gone deaf...

Aniseed Moon

Invisible, on the edge of the moon,
Crickles and crackles
Cardboard and wheat,
Dinner, break, fast, lunch...

Day calling soon
But I miss the time

White light echoes on silver steel as I move,
Soft pink and white teatowel
a thick texture,
to the touch,
to touch,
to light and breathe in scented sweets,

I think of aniseed,
And how it might have chipped my teeth,
And turned my lips blood red,
How I would dribble it down the corner of my mouth to pretend I'm a vampire,

And when you get to the centre of the Ball in this room, it is hard and tasteless,
Like coming back from a journey to receive another scheduled dis-appointment...

And now, Night is almost Morning
and this is a closed store.

The Wife Poet

she does sleep (during the day)
she calms him...
now she has climbed out of the mould,
yet it is only right for him to scold,
and it is the night that makes her old.

Another Late Nighter

I should never write of that shadow well again,
beauty affixed, prothesis, plasticides,
the models on the screen are like insecticide,
stealing a little of my feeling...

I should never write of a horror house again,
I have a fail safe, safety is always taken,
when your fragility at least accepts,
asides and momentary distractions,
all my smashed glass feelings
would be called lies,
if I was not sure,
that their safety hastens their complacency.

I will never be able to keep these promises,
until a clean swish slash of burden,
is dropped into a basket
and left at the correct feet,
the feet of a noble man,
the feet of a strong woman,

purity, purity
and pure sexual being,

Of her little kisses on all my little fingers...

And I'll be sure of a safe promise of beauty.

Vengeful Words

I only posted love letters to Afghanistan
"you were in the midst of it, so was I"
The bombs,
The dumbs
Were nothing to do with me,
I wrote about your veils
In a little green book
I imagined
While I made tea and toast
That I loved you,
And you brought it back to me,
But I was selfish

And blamed it on a side-effect of Ecstasy.


the parrot rape brains are blockades
they got a mental block,
yet they indulged in it.
I smash through them
And whaccybaccy goes my head.
I think about breaking. YOU!
this is-------something for You,
So, I think about breaking them when their mouths are stuck on repeat,
And when they sleep downstairs in my man's home,
I throw water on their lazy heads...

Flying Over Africa

(The Ulam Spiral Phenomenon, like looking through the windows in the hospital rooms)

Words come to me
One killer song
Many of Babylon
You See Them
Only who they are,
Behind their eyes
Colours, many shades
the brightest was the whirlwind
the darkest was the whitest
the one with The Book in the hand;
dreads in his locks
no dread in his eyes
a holy insane surprise
the poorest peylocks
originates from living in dirty places,
leaving footprints in cement,
red and gold in the garden,
in his cap,
in his grin,
in the tinsel on the tree
Waved to me, every day,
(and there is the Mad Zion)
And I waved, every day through the cage,
you know it was only a cage of thick glass,

you know that by now.
He read to me, found my fear,
finding every daughter of Babylon
taking their turn...
men, the men she's...

And some were short-sighted
but not blind.

I remember the bath in Africa, I fly the entire continent in one square building

I heard their voices,
I heard their song.
I shut myself off in the midst of a cage, and didn't.
I enquired, I shouted, I nearly screamed.

Voodoo herb
And Mohammads love
A halo queen.

Who and what kind do they let work here? (one is bouncing in his glassed office, syringe in hand, tall and broad, shaking his chest with both hands at the sight of my breasts)
(And there is the Babylon)
All we all just shades of skin?
Am I the burning extreme?
Do the black ones taunt? (and women gathered at my door, braiding their hair)
(And there is Zion)
Do the white ones sing? (A kind bespectacled man leaves a newspaper with Prince Williams number in a little corner of the page, but I have surprise shock, something stuck up my nose and I am too ill to use the phone)
(And there is the Zion)
What a torment to be drowning in sin.

I ran away with her,
was so gone, I was more child-like,
than their baby,
We sat together in a taxi,
Wide-eyed at the sunshine,
No suspicion, no worry,
thinking of freedom,
And remembering that African perfume,
that Nigerian sweat scent,
Mirrored small hands clutching lightly.
A driver in front and two of us, no idea where the girl was taking us.
I still have her paisley black and white bandana,
I still have a little memory...

"Your eyes are green!"

My eyes had gone green, in the sunlight,
My eyes had gone green, in the sunlight...

I wrote to a president once,
My sister, my cousin and I drew pictures of elephants on the envelope,
Never got a reply...

Islam Islam Aslan Zee-on
Ulam Olam Hebron