V.69

Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

V.68

On the cross he began to mouth
and the women leant closer in
“blood, blood,” he whispered and then out
of his side poured clear. Wondering…

The lord wants us to suffer more
so he may suffer more and for
that be blessed by himself, taking
it upon himself. God is a vampire

God is a masochist. Lying in the bed, God calls her darling, looks into his chest
cavity where his heart lies still and riven
Darling, he says, I care about you.

Now reach in there and squeeze. God loves
every part of you, all your neat quirks
but mostly your soft blood. Because
he made you. He wants to suffer

more so he makes you sin, to feel
the glory of taking you in.
But the greater unknowing cloud
of blood that bore him, is more cruel.

She said I long for you, my god,
as you long for blood. Drink of me
so I may suffer as you do.
Her neck was pierced. The light shone through

V.67 Fainting at the Supermarket Clinic

When I was lying amongst them –
the tubs of biochemical
waste – I had a thought, on the floor
there, under the bright yellow tubs

I cried later, the self-service
checkout beeped and I cried weakly
Julian of Norwich touched me
On the shoulder. She hugged me and

I cried at the gap. The quiet
where visions should have poured outward
was a small grey rock in the dark.
The Wu tang Clan sung me back with

C.R.E.A.M. as my selfhood rebooted.
My heartbeat was slow, I was born
again, from a song I can’t know.
I thought: what has happened? I know

Nothing anymore, just this face
and the other, staring back down
As I lay on the smooth cold floor.
The lady passed by, I sat up

And stood up, slowly. I wandered
from here to there, bought frozen food
and went to the checkout. She had
hollow eyes and she hugged me close

V.66

Short breaks in the lambent parade
of life arrive at the greasy
spoon in the market. The hot oil
soon replaces everything else

with crackling. Money slips and slides
from hand to hand around here, but
in a way somehow comforting,
like a hospital, compared to

a hospice. Rain comes in again,
an intermittent then constant
grey wash to tamp down all the days
into a lead sheet over me.

Words can be used by anyone
at any time, and this fact is
a casket leant in the corner
in a dark dickensian house.

The small bright machine in my hand
clicks and whirs and sells me products.
My low social achievement score
is indicative of distaste

towards crucifixion. I speak
and instantly eyes are on me,
disapprovingly rolling round
and round and round and round and round

V.65

If buildings stand built in the sun
by the oak hill, why must we pay?
when all transactions are known to
release their bonds upon us, why

must we pay? When our lives are short
and end shortly, in the field full
of broken trees, why must we pay?
When skeletons possess estates,

when the dead pile up endlessly
all over the world, and will persist
in doing so until the death
of death itself, one dark moment

is ours, and nothing more, desires
gum up the cogs, they jam, and break,
and we sit amongst the breakage
and stare blankly into it, stare

at the landowner who stares down,
at the wreckage and holds out bones
attached to bones attached to bones,
why must we pay? Why must we pay

when the earth will fall into fire
as its orbital arc decays,
and all long things become shorter
and waste, why then must we pay?

V.64

It is late and I have written
little since the last time. Life goes
on in a pleasant way. Listen;
the far off cliff collapse echoes.

The world is a large onyx slab.
The noise drowns us, the moon crater
is the most fear we’ve ever had.
And a floating baby later.

There is nothing left to say – this
is a machine placing patterns
upon patterns, until we miss
something and the pattern shatters.

Where we’re going, you don’t need eyes
to see that things are going wrong.
The way I stand silent and try
not to move. For fear of the strong

feelings that arise within me
when life moves nowhere. And the brush
I paint with dries out. Can we be
clearer? Perhaps, but there’s no rush.

You can always ask what I mean.
And we will elaborate words
in forces and objects that seem
helpless, and all we’ve ever heard.

V.63

The future doesn’t exist
only the moment exists, and the moment
is the moment of despair that the future does not exist.

There are no hopes
There are only desires and deepest of those
the desire to have hopes.

I ride the bus back from town
having achieved a slight melancholy

and bought things I did not need
when I should have been saving
for the future I do not have.

Love once tore my head open
and everything inside fell on the ground.

Now, I feel no love.
And my head remains empty.
such is time’s slow dripping
and the cloud moves toward the horizon.

Should I be angry? No.
Should I want
Should

Note to this poem: this is not really what I am feeling. In reality the hopes I have are what has led to a situation with an inbuilt lack. But of course, we are fundamentally messed up due to the situation we find ourselves in. Maybe it is that the deepest hopes we have can send us into a jammed cog situation. That our estimations of the world are systematically wrong in a way that functions as an excuse to continue in an equilibrium that leaves us in a bearable situation, even if that situation is dead and jellyfish like. Maybe a moment of decision deferred is like a coagulant.