blackpool flat towers

apeggios

peacock feathered eyes
bells chasing each other
limbs suspended
cradled in deep heavy blue

lights silently slowly pulsing
guiding airplanes
to the edge of the earth
in to the hands of the
deux es machina(god of machines)

hit the bottom
the motorway still slightly breathing
spin in circles
tears roll out my eyes
like being poked with a needle

my bones sink
my eyes drop
i am a ghost again
dust
gas
sweet release

bleeding bellies of Europe

im not one to brag but...i took this

the end of Pax Americana

the end of Pax Americana
our global stranglehold
our corvette love
waning in power
with foots in our mouths
we bow to the east

the wind ominously wisps
while koreans train to cheat death
the Nigerian young man
prophesys destruction
foreseeing what i foresaw
years ago
how little miss USA
is the reincarnation
of little miss Rome
when historians write about this time
what will they document?
The American Industrialised Empire
television authorities
internet watchdogs
thought police
the uncle sam staring contest
red, black and blue
the scars and strippers
overlord underdog
one nation under minding
poor sweet baby
the baseball game of the season
the box office hit
making love with the
south
east
and north
In US We Trust

Woe to Blackpool

noble english sage
speaking of beauty lost
and gypsies
tearing through blackpool
american air force
with their cash
perverting
this town
is a
black neon rainbow
keep it behind
closed doors
anglo-saxon tribe
story teller
mayhem
stags and hens
making blight in this city
north shore
arcades
central
bused to be raped
south shore
pleasure beach
illuminations
flashing lights
caberet girls
carbon characters
God Still Loves Us
suicide alley
i weep for her
i weep for her
with my hands in the air
tears in my eyes
im coming out
im coming out
i weep for her
blackpool
dark queen of the north
i weep for her

humming wet glass

powerstation smokestacks alined with
broken bleeding pigs
falling off the cliffs in imaculate sycronisation

tribal warfare accompanied by
native drum claps on paint cans and car doors
the fourth reich
the third world war
apocolypse is the new neon

turn me now kid
get yourself going
watch the mirror
youre the sound of glass huming
under wet fingertips

spiders with legs perched behind lace
have no business in our bedsheets
weve got to make it to the sunrise
steam comes over the rooftops

the engines will roar

teeth on the curb
blood on the chassis
skin on the tarmac
petrol on the qur'an
spit on the martyr
end of the day
all out the speaker
drawn, hanged, and quartered
battersea gallows alight
when the bastards feet drop
burn the witch
sound the stereos, the car horns as well
die motoren werden brullen(the engines will roar)
wenn die fauste in die luft schlagen(as the fists hit the air)

do the tendon twitch

my mind racing
decernment out the window
thoughts come as fast as they go
as clumsy and shaken as this frame of a man
my blood hammering relentlessly at the walls of my weathered veins
my lily whites outlining her hills and valleys
my shivering nerves only magnify my insecurities
but she needs me now all the same
theres nowhere safer
than burying your cheeks in strangers beds
trust was never the issue
dependancy on the other hand
its the hardest thing ive learned to do
throwing yourself into the flickering blue light
tearing away your hearts hands after the fact
the point is to not get attached
its a perverse expectation
none the less
wet dream catcher
the movements of her mouth
the things she mutters
puncture my factories
making the forbidden fruit in my throat jump
a kamikaze attempt to murder me
committed by the natural enemy of the tight rope walker