Sunday, December 07, 2008

baptism riff (poem about a local murder of a random taxi driver)

face fruz in so animate rictus
in ices of grief see him ....................slicked hard
..................................................from Haworth to Keighley
.................[crime shine/ring/eject/spasm/spush
.........[through brass the hedges............shiver of night

there by The Merry Melon


.............man .............under streetlight /sur les pierres/
.............a screwdriver and a hammer /quand le cloche sonnait douze/
.............................................a pound of bananas /les blancs debarquent/
........waiting to choke for a taxi some set of box spanners
........ratchet/drosophila/molehead/cervix


.................................... just so damn dazzling he cries shortly after this
GSOH but frigid and unkempt seeks defining event

[preferably Pakistani
or Bangladeshi]

......................... /in grey wainscot green cctv his hands grow/up it came upon me like TV signal fire of the lambs swaying so the light-cortex of orchidectomy/petals inside wolves/lycanthropes agrasp the

dancing body in a ditch let alone like teeth they flamed drug wars and grooming
........................................ young white girls fucked hare's running
.........................................across car bonnets 240 they bet starters for Spring

.............................amphetamines/paedophilia (rivers
...............................of white blood) nous devons soumettre

.......................battered blind with a hammer tenderised such with sea salt
and rosemary his heart wall punctured balsamic au bapteme
.......................................................................to fluxes of inviability with a slothead
.who violated girls also poisoned sleepy aryan children in rivers and once drowned a dog with his
batchelors even of jism in the air so nascent a corruption how swirl like sex-stuff in a bath solid as stringy semen-soap calorised into aspic of the murder melon he hovers golden as flower boxes

look always this flurry of glissades


................................................................................vindicate with this stuffing

..............................................
of half o clock lies
...................................................is all sweptaway titters of
dead petals for the keeper
.
.
.

15 comments:

wayward woman said...

It's time to stop talking
time to start living
when on the morrow

sun shines on
silver plane wings

in the crush of arrival
only your face

Anonymous said...

I have been visiting this site for many months, always excited to see the bloggers new offerings, how disappointing that this has become a site for indiscreet and not too imaginative ‘hidden’ messages.

Steve said...

It is truly reprehensible behaviour that has forever tainted this inviolate higher field of art.

Steve.

Anonymous said...

Inviolate higher field of art - 'gimme' How curious!

The integrity of this Blog is questionable

Steve said...

Never was any integrity. Nor higher purpose. No alliance of intent here. No integration. Just documenting of moments. Some of these moments are deeply conflicted. Can't help that. Would be nice, I agree. Always thought so myself.

Steve.

bambi said...

Surely one must have a sense of humor about things, or you may as well coil up and suck your thumb!

Steve said...

Dip your thumb in Marmite and Tabasco, then let it dry in the sun. Then sever it from your hand, slice off the fleshy parts and spread them on a baguette with mayonnaise and black pepper and balsamic vinegar (sparingly). It's good, I swear. I've consumed most of my digits this way.

Steve.

nutter said...

Excellent, I'm slicing my digits as I type... oops only got the nose now. Do I cut that off as well?

Steve said...

This is nothing to do with me; it's all about taste. If noses are your thing, then who am I to say different. I'd be inclined to wipe it first, though.

slurpy said...

Erm

best we don't get into favorite bodyparts.

Anonymous said...

such wonderful names and banter, thanks for the larf!!

psycho killer said...

that's what it's all about anon

banter and laughs.

Anonymous said...

Happy to stumble upon this blog.

I haven’t had much time but love how you dance
between literal language and intentional fragmentation.
really pushing the boundaries here.

Steve said...

On the offchance that you're a serious Anon and not one of those darkly frolicking motleys above, thank you for your comments.

Steve.

Steve said...

This poem is almost unreadable, I think. I'm not yet convinced that's a bad thing...