Animals in Suits
by
moon paw prant*
Cover character drawings: Jack Lyon Murphy Tessier.
Collage/photography/gif artwork: moon paw prant*
Collage/photography/gif artwork: moon paw prant*
A satire of a satire.
chapters_ C L I C K THEM
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- Carl Gustav Jung,
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He’s got tricks up his sleeve, like no one would believe
Depth posing as surface.
THE AUDIO CHAPTERS,
“Free-form”
Don’t read the introduction, staying sober is
fine
Alternating ways, repeatedly
Altruistic, back-bent
For rewards they’ll never know
Caution with the commotion
The smoked back room cloaks stained and tethered to uptown,
Upscale,
folks
Escaping in their droves to the Copacabana
Plotting on,
What is next to know?
Old ways, return on an odd day
Unchartered
Invitation to play
Life gets strange and
Time:
Its flies to fruit,
Feasting into the sweetness of you
Devouring your every scent
Pomace in a bladder press
Distils
Aroma
Tickles the nose
Before the red takes over
Fabio Capello—
England's Strangest Manager
A white canvas with little paint
An imperial team
The banding of two nations
Beckoning echoes from their ancestors
Misused but trusted directions on how to seize
A popular cultural exchange,
Inundated and buried in harsh cacophony
Regurgitated existence with a few more buttons at your disposal than the last
Every given resource unfolds its own trap before jokingly revealing facade:
It’s indecision,
When every direction is a permissible journey
Only now the art of standing perfectly still is appealing
Only now—the jester seems like the wisest owl of all on this midnight tree,
The brush of colour and the absence of distain to frolic
The absurdity embodied, unapologetically, personified, but etched on the outside
Of the glass,
Entrapped in it or out skirted
Go to the sea, they won’t have you in this fishbowl much longer
Taste the salt of purity before exploring its darkened depths
Venture to the intriguing, one hand in the cosmic glove,
Reverse the receding—backpedal to keep the light bulb on
Pounding feet on the infinity treadmill of experiences
Tiring now,
Moving forth with a rope tied to the tracing promise of rejuvenation
Pulled to the end, every whim depleted throughout, cataclysms ushered in by the grand stage manager of life
You dance your way through hot stones and take prolonged breaks by the rivers to dip your feet and learn how to forget
Much is said now that the silence has been killed,
Revealed the illusion it didn’t exist in the first place, and revelled in your imaginations ability to breathe life into it,
Upholding the frame for its spectacle to take place
Where silence was once reserved for moments devoid of chaos, now the world alarms with disharmony, fluctuations impossible to shut out
Disillusionment gives way to questions that don’t require an answer, nor should be sought after
The knife’s edge of realisation
Eventually comes splintering in
stubbornness wins
Years on the run from the self will grant you respites, but prove futile
The long way round running back
Years churned in cycles with fleeting glimpses of contentment
Always slipping, diverting the fundamentals
Laying new bricks, learning new tricks to tell the same old stories
Finding new ways to excite the synapses
Starting to run out
Inspiration trickles down the stream for someone else to wield
Taking a slice out of everything to upholster, collage a life appearing well-lived,
Well-constructed, your contribution to the primordial jigsaw
The slot some fill with jagged edges,
The imperfect pieces, inhabiting times they are needed most yet unable to see
As if their bare presence may be enough to sway the tides of change
Taper out
Alternating ways, repeatedly
Altruistic, back-bent
For rewards they’ll never know
Caution with the commotion
The smoked back room cloaks stained and tethered to uptown,
Upscale,
folks
Escaping in their droves to the Copacabana
Plotting on,
What is next to know?
Old ways, return on an odd day
Unchartered
Invitation to play
Life gets strange and
Time:
Its flies to fruit,
Feasting into the sweetness of you
Devouring your every scent
Pomace in a bladder press
Distils
Aroma
Tickles the nose
Before the red takes over
Fabio Capello—
England's Strangest Manager
A white canvas with little paint
An imperial team
The banding of two nations
Beckoning echoes from their ancestors
Misused but trusted directions on how to seize
A popular cultural exchange,
Inundated and buried in harsh cacophony
Regurgitated existence with a few more buttons at your disposal than the last
Every given resource unfolds its own trap before jokingly revealing facade:
It’s indecision,
When every direction is a permissible journey
Only now the art of standing perfectly still is appealing
Only now—the jester seems like the wisest owl of all on this midnight tree,
The brush of colour and the absence of distain to frolic
The absurdity embodied, unapologetically, personified, but etched on the outside
Of the glass,
Entrapped in it or out skirted
Go to the sea, they won’t have you in this fishbowl much longer
Taste the salt of purity before exploring its darkened depths
Venture to the intriguing, one hand in the cosmic glove,
Reverse the receding—backpedal to keep the light bulb on
Pounding feet on the infinity treadmill of experiences
Tiring now,
Moving forth with a rope tied to the tracing promise of rejuvenation
Pulled to the end, every whim depleted throughout, cataclysms ushered in by the grand stage manager of life
You dance your way through hot stones and take prolonged breaks by the rivers to dip your feet and learn how to forget
Much is said now that the silence has been killed,
Revealed the illusion it didn’t exist in the first place, and revelled in your imaginations ability to breathe life into it,
Upholding the frame for its spectacle to take place
Where silence was once reserved for moments devoid of chaos, now the world alarms with disharmony, fluctuations impossible to shut out
Disillusionment gives way to questions that don’t require an answer, nor should be sought after
The knife’s edge of realisation
Eventually comes splintering in
stubbornness wins
Years on the run from the self will grant you respites, but prove futile
The long way round running back
Years churned in cycles with fleeting glimpses of contentment
Always slipping, diverting the fundamentals
Laying new bricks, learning new tricks to tell the same old stories
Finding new ways to excite the synapses
Starting to run out
Inspiration trickles down the stream for someone else to wield
Taking a slice out of everything to upholster, collage a life appearing well-lived,
Well-constructed, your contribution to the primordial jigsaw
The slot some fill with jagged edges,
The imperfect pieces, inhabiting times they are needed most yet unable to see
As if their bare presence may be enough to sway the tides of change
Taper out
What could feel better than
Pissing out the sins of yesterday?
A wo/man is only made out of clay
Moulded under the impression they are a needle in the hay
Peculiarities are here to stay
Cinematic cigarette cops you’re greeted in foreign bays
Flicking through visas with headaches
Pass you on by,
Is every calibre bullet made without care of what it will graze and where it will go to penetrate?
Twisted crows, grudge harbouring judges and internet trolls taking meaningless polls with full purpose, intent
Take a toll if the eyes are still open not swole nor closed by the smoke
The bloke in the pub who just wants to tell you a joke his life dreams hanging with his coat
You don’t know where to start to console
You meet his only mate in the bathroom doing coke
You let it go, the escapist assembles ladders over walls, mental traumatic prisons of old
Just to be sober by the morn’
It wasn’t like you haven’t been warned
The scorn that gets us all when standing tall
Eventually you prepare for the fall
With a rope at your ankle
Every week they allocate you fourty-five minutes to feel alive before the feeling wears off
Memories of cartoons bloom
and spring into mind
Your mother's wooden spoon
Spun round the pasta
Steam rising
Everything is tinged fluorescent
Dance with the lighting
Skip into squares just don’t touch the lines
Rainy day puddles
your curiosity birthed colours to move and saturate the greyscale
Dash through the fair
Over there
Get your shoes muddied
Hurry!
Sports day whistle
Cross country run to the beat of Billy Jean and kick through the thistle’s
Piss on the lands they don’t see
Water the plants
Now you’re but a silhouette in a soliloquy
Occasional escapades to evergreens
The place where you truly cherish things
Cold cherries in the heat of summer
Dripping
Helped you get over that blunder
Plundering your way forward through
Good and bad omens
Risk it, break for atonement
But it’s never a dull moment
Latch to routines, suiting
Loose footing
Rookies
At the bookies
Vitamin C Sukie
Keep the lights on for a chronic gambler
In the end it was never the money they were after when they started
But the feeling—anticipation into transfiguration
A false sense of healing
Rats in the cut, no squealing
Walls are peeling, ceiling fan doesn’t work had plans to put a noose but it just ripped the skirting
Spot the loan sharks
Walk brisk in tracksuits
Dip behind thick oaks in meadow parks
Paranoid mind antennas
Dosing of to soft boat ride delusions of Venice
Retirement tennis
Raise another Dennis the menace, serious sally
In the U.K. we all serve a sentence
Not in prison but the mind’s peace is distant
Psychological warfare, 20 deck of Mayfair’s
May fair,
Stay there. Stay here, right where they want you to be
but does the bourgeoisie play fair?
Or are we just amusements in their play fair?
Just puppets on their strings
Muppets on their leash
They gave us beer and football to distract us from all the things they do above us as we sing
In collective harmonious choirs to a king
Overdraft the bank
Mortgage trickling to tanks
Give all thanks, a night to Guy Fawkes
Because he couldn’t really do what he thought
Working class last
Lick the rust of scrapyard
Crushed tins of Heinz
Celebrate the failure in the rusk
Sunken land diazepam punks
And such
But there’s never a dull moment
Pissing out the sins of yesterday?
A wo/man is only made out of clay
Moulded under the impression they are a needle in the hay
Peculiarities are here to stay
Cinematic cigarette cops you’re greeted in foreign bays
Flicking through visas with headaches
Pass you on by,
Is every calibre bullet made without care of what it will graze and where it will go to penetrate?
Twisted crows, grudge harbouring judges and internet trolls taking meaningless polls with full purpose, intent
Take a toll if the eyes are still open not swole nor closed by the smoke
The bloke in the pub who just wants to tell you a joke his life dreams hanging with his coat
You don’t know where to start to console
You meet his only mate in the bathroom doing coke
You let it go, the escapist assembles ladders over walls, mental traumatic prisons of old
Just to be sober by the morn’
It wasn’t like you haven’t been warned
The scorn that gets us all when standing tall
Eventually you prepare for the fall
With a rope at your ankle
Every week they allocate you fourty-five minutes to feel alive before the feeling wears off
Memories of cartoons bloom
and spring into mind
Your mother's wooden spoon
Spun round the pasta
Steam rising
Everything is tinged fluorescent
Dance with the lighting
Skip into squares just don’t touch the lines
Rainy day puddles
your curiosity birthed colours to move and saturate the greyscale
Dash through the fair
Over there
Get your shoes muddied
Hurry!
Sports day whistle
Cross country run to the beat of Billy Jean and kick through the thistle’s
Piss on the lands they don’t see
Water the plants
Now you’re but a silhouette in a soliloquy
Occasional escapades to evergreens
The place where you truly cherish things
Cold cherries in the heat of summer
Dripping
Helped you get over that blunder
Plundering your way forward through
Good and bad omens
Risk it, break for atonement
But it’s never a dull moment
Latch to routines, suiting
Loose footing
Rookies
At the bookies
Vitamin C Sukie
Keep the lights on for a chronic gambler
In the end it was never the money they were after when they started
But the feeling—anticipation into transfiguration
A false sense of healing
Rats in the cut, no squealing
Walls are peeling, ceiling fan doesn’t work had plans to put a noose but it just ripped the skirting
Spot the loan sharks
Walk brisk in tracksuits
Dip behind thick oaks in meadow parks
Paranoid mind antennas
Dosing of to soft boat ride delusions of Venice
Retirement tennis
Raise another Dennis the menace, serious sally
In the U.K. we all serve a sentence
Not in prison but the mind’s peace is distant
Psychological warfare, 20 deck of Mayfair’s
May fair,
Stay there. Stay here, right where they want you to be
but does the bourgeoisie play fair?
Or are we just amusements in their play fair?
Just puppets on their strings
Muppets on their leash
They gave us beer and football to distract us from all the things they do above us as we sing
In collective harmonious choirs to a king
Overdraft the bank
Mortgage trickling to tanks
Give all thanks, a night to Guy Fawkes
Because he couldn’t really do what he thought
Working class last
Lick the rust of scrapyard
Crushed tins of Heinz
Celebrate the failure in the rusk
Sunken land diazepam punks
And such
But there’s never a dull moment
Pleasure is not whisped at the glory of the Olmpic torch victory in the Moscow snow
No,
It is felt the moment you are slightly tripping in the corridor and no one knows
Tree of life, Belfast
I got labels
To peel
off from dealings we both made it out,
I'm glad we found the gap in the ceiling
in the corner of my eye there is an itch I can’t quite scratch so I
flinch my eye so many times look close, see the trees blow much like they are
people taking a breath awake to the weight on your chest
dishevelled unrest, or some ego maniacal magical mania fest
seen through the monocle of a Monica Lewinsky politician rearin' gearin' his Sundays best
that takes patience at best to understand
the weight on your chest
people projectin'
shadows
onto
you
not
knowing
it is a
mirror
they
hold
into
their
own
soul
_________________________________________________________________
silence is the key
famines and war stories, frightening defeat, miraculous glory
intangible conceit to self-conscious self delete
the damage is deep so it seeps to the
roots
we make an effort, we all deserve to feel
everyday, piece the puzzle together
face the all consuming confusion that laced us with actively loosing
within the illusion of choice conditions so old like wooden floorboards
it is a pleasure to unscrew. Belfast, every time we have the same old talk
it's nothing new dreamin' your same old dreams new shirt but you wear the same old jeans
Belfast you are not a well-oiled machine devoid of the trauma you string
from the past, I still see the beauty in your crooked eye
I find myself grateful that it will last Belfast, Buckfast, thank you for putting us through the
true depths of hell and heaven
One lesson, we can teach to the world:
how to put down a weapon
I got labels
To peel
off from dealings we both made it out,
I'm glad we found the gap in the ceiling
in the corner of my eye there is an itch I can’t quite scratch so I
flinch my eye so many times look close, see the trees blow much like they are
people taking a breath awake to the weight on your chest
dishevelled unrest, or some ego maniacal magical mania fest
seen through the monocle of a Monica Lewinsky politician rearin' gearin' his Sundays best
that takes patience at best to understand
the weight on your chest
people projectin'
shadows
onto
you
not
knowing
it is a
mirror
they
hold
into
their
own
soul
_________________________________________________________________
silence is the key
famines and war stories, frightening defeat, miraculous glory
intangible conceit to self-conscious self delete
the damage is deep so it seeps to the
roots
we make an effort, we all deserve to feel
everyday, piece the puzzle together
face the all consuming confusion that laced us with actively loosing
within the illusion of choice conditions so old like wooden floorboards
it is a pleasure to unscrew. Belfast, every time we have the same old talk
it's nothing new dreamin' your same old dreams new shirt but you wear the same old jeans
Belfast you are not a well-oiled machine devoid of the trauma you string
from the past, I still see the beauty in your crooked eye
I find myself grateful that it will last Belfast, Buckfast, thank you for putting us through the
true depths of hell and heaven
One lesson, we can teach to the world:
how to put down a weapon
I feel the weight of everything pile pressure onto my skull
Moving with the momentum of a vortex
Content on erasing me from the earth in which I stand
But have you ever starved? Made a Tesco reduced meal a Michelin star?
Obliterated into fragments, a disingenuous mirror into the wee small hours
Cracked and casts reflections of this demon tethered
Devouring all vitality, leaching
Bleeding now,
bleeding out
There is no form of help in this system but the act of endurance
Circumvent the rules to see death isn’t real
But I can’t just feel
A thing
I am one with the homeless, I am one with the rich
i am one with the broken, i am one with the fixed
I am one with the healer, I am one with the killer
I am one with the balanced, I am one with the addict
I am one with the teacher, I am one with the student
i am nothing at all, i am everything
Could it be this
Could it be that?
Is everything still in it, still intact?
How many feelings mismatch?
The feeling is black
To the point
Paint the walls and fill in the cracks
The catch is caught, the match is off
Mismatched yet it’s odd
The line tingles between taig and prod
Staged and taught the factory line walk
a̸n̷d̶ ̷h̷o̵w̷ ̸w̸a̴s̷ ̵t̷h̶e̸ ̷f̵a̶l̷l̷?̶
Up out of it
Is it quite scary?
Music for a job
So is feeling like a fraud
Mismatched yet it’s odd
- Taken from 82’ Social Interaction verse
And the question still stands: If you saw an alien, would you continue to ball?
moon paw print
moon paw prant*
moon paw prance
moon paw lance
moon paw vice city vance
never saw moon paw dance
moon paw pants
never had a moon paw chance
moon paw sans
never made moon paw plans
make moon paw adsense
moon paw pence
moon paw can
but what if moon paw can’t?
moon paw man
moon paw wolf
moon paw
moon pa
moon p
moon
moo
mo
m
nn
n
Van Helsing
Footprints I left in foreign sands
Peace to them in the distance
Nobody knows who I am
Wind blowing particles away
Mountains climbed with no sleight of hand
But they don’t see where I stand
Summit ᵤᵖ
Surfed the waves of a love that could never be had
Culture gets blocked to feel a buzz
word,
you know it’s never enough
Equates to a sliver of a touch
Your left in the dust
Left in the brink
blink of an eye
Sighs of the new sight of blue sky in a world run arye
Adrift
And they wonder why it loops
A carnival of troops sent in trained jumping through hoops
The hoopla catchers suppose your symposiums are never egregious
Thing
I heard the angels sing as the bells just rang
Then novella’s spring
By the fall of the evening
Vampire attacks
I’m Van Helsing
The worlds melting
Couldn’t be normal get a 9-to-5 hell thing
Rather spend it fencing
The clattering of swords a healthy outlook when my vision wasn’t sure
Suspended in terror by the wars
Can you believe the time? Nobody was sure
& Time it trickles fast thankfully past Thatchers grasp but didn’t dodge the 1984 hallmark pass
Yet it catches us all to make a carcass that won’t last
Footprints I left in foreign sands
Peace to them in the distance
Nobody knows who I am
Wind blowing particles away
Mountains climbed with no sleight of hand
But they don’t see where I stand
Summit ᵤᵖ
Surfed the waves of a love that could never be had
Culture gets blocked to feel a buzz
word,
you know it’s never enough
Equates to a sliver of a touch
Your left in the dust
Left in the brink
blink of an eye
Sighs of the new sight of blue sky in a world run arye
Adrift
And they wonder why it loops
A carnival of troops sent in trained jumping through hoops
The hoopla catchers suppose your symposiums are never egregious
Thing
I heard the angels sing as the bells just rang
Then novella’s spring
By the fall of the evening
Vampire attacks
I’m Van Helsing
The worlds melting
Couldn’t be normal get a 9-to-5 hell thing
Rather spend it fencing
The clattering of swords a healthy outlook when my vision wasn’t sure
Suspended in terror by the wars
Can you believe the time? Nobody was sure
& Time it trickles fast thankfully past Thatchers grasp but didn’t dodge the 1984 hallmark pass
Yet it catches us all to make a carcass that won’t last
The Human Template
Examine the face, inch your finger between the lines of the unseen between you and me
Symbols and archetypes
___________ ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
_Lines are drawn___________________________A net we use to attempt to catch the jubilant tail of consciousness____________________________________
____ _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Yet it always escapes
Outwitting every move as communication falters
Dances off, sometimes awkward
The moment of magic or is it madness?
Sometimes flicks within the glitter of its eyes
Always a-livening
Illumininating the inbounds of youth
In part ways even when it’s dying
A contradiction.
Split in two
into
Eternal star
Bon voyage
Exit A, B, C and D, E and F, G,
H, I,
J, K,
Only past the basis
No one has saw it just yet
The skipped step
To
The other side
The sudden moves grew malformed in discontent
A withered flower pumped up by acid
A stark, revised view
Being carried by the unknown
Relinquishing everything for a currant
Embracing the rhythm of it’s pull
Examine the face, inch your finger between the lines of the unseen between you and me
Symbols and archetypes
___________ ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
_Lines are drawn___________________________A net we use to attempt to catch the jubilant tail of consciousness____________________________________
____ _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Yet it always escapes
Outwitting every move as communication falters
Dances off, sometimes awkward
The moment of magic or is it madness?
Sometimes flicks within the glitter of its eyes
Always a-livening
Illumininating the inbounds of youth
In part ways even when it’s dying
A contradiction.
Split in two
into
Eternal star
Bon voyage
Exit A, B, C and D, E and F, G,
H, I,
J, K,
Only past the basis
No one has saw it just yet
The skipped step
To
The other side
The sudden moves grew malformed in discontent
A withered flower pumped up by acid
A stark, revised view
Being carried by the unknown
Relinquishing everything for a currant
Embracing the rhythm of it’s pull
Tell me where one goes
When your wise enough to know that crying is futile
Unless from the eyes of a child
And your prayers orbit around and then out of the bullshit you find yourself in the midst of
Only to be unheard and perhaps scoffed at by an omnipresent being you currently believe 41.02% to exist
You tire of the fences humans construct in the game of normality,
Animals in a suit and tie
Hair transplant and a fake smile to convince you of their value and status quo in the great facade
Unaware of the paradox they’ve become
The greedy bastards most of you work for but never seem to question
Poem 4001
What if everything you dreamed of wasn’t at all what you wanted or needed?
Begged and pleaded pulling manifestations out of the air until all viable energy depleted
A young man with broken vision asking for a life worth living just might have missed it
Vanish into the back alleys
cloaked mist in the district
The demons that surround might have found the one place the soul was hidden
Every idea half heartedly dispersed
You want to disappear
Again
But this is no longer the earth in which you fear but the shadow attentively clinging to your every word
I thought I was smart, dodging corporate 70k comes with a mental breakdown on Glassdoor
But I’ve been dying under this glass ceiling
Scraping at a dream buying into delusions that won’t come into fruition
It ain’t for lack of best intention
&
No one is promised ascension,
doesn’t look how you’d think and irreverence is often in sentiment
Help me from pacing, misplacing every part
In need of a factory restart,
Catastrophising,
sliding,
the silver lining
What has grown of my diligent decoys? I see it and recoil
I only feel it in free fall
Slamming into this brick wall,
fist to the jigsaw
Split into pieces, break again facetious
Clocks tick—time slips, blown out the window
Nails into the hands in the room my innocence was snatched
When I was on their list
I said
“it was a cry for help”
Inside,
nice guy
Struggling with the cards that had been dealt
From working class days, Belfast, observing violence and the faint echos of parades
Helicopters overhead
Emotions always shift, just pass by on this conveyer belt
Zombefied diazepam to artificially feel the calm
Instilled,
and still
The body has long lost its way, strayed from the ignorant mind that once kept me safe
Black tracksuit nightfall leave without a trace
Toxic slurs at a pub handing over my worth moulding with folks like the ones who abandoned their goals
Snap the plank of pain in the smoking area reveal my secrets where my Bic lighter is the opposite of a fire fighter
Sorry I helped bring cancer to your lungs, tsunami boards I fought against who I wasn’t supposed to become
but the currant overcomes
Excuses to run, breathe in the whispers and wisdoms of the trees
See me, float with some weed steadily down a street
Incomplete
Night lights,
Search again for the missing piece
For fuck sake
Begged and pleaded pulling manifestations out of the air until all viable energy depleted
A young man with broken vision asking for a life worth living just might have missed it
Vanish into the back alleys
cloaked mist in the district
The demons that surround might have found the one place the soul was hidden
Every idea half heartedly dispersed
You want to disappear
Again
But this is no longer the earth in which you fear but the shadow attentively clinging to your every word
I thought I was smart, dodging corporate 70k comes with a mental breakdown on Glassdoor
But I’ve been dying under this glass ceiling
Scraping at a dream buying into delusions that won’t come into fruition
It ain’t for lack of best intention
&
No one is promised ascension,
doesn’t look how you’d think and irreverence is often in sentiment
Help me from pacing, misplacing every part
In need of a factory restart,
Catastrophising,
sliding,
the silver lining
What has grown of my diligent decoys? I see it and recoil
I only feel it in free fall
Slamming into this brick wall,
fist to the jigsaw
Split into pieces, break again facetious
Clocks tick—time slips, blown out the window
Nails into the hands in the room my innocence was snatched
When I was on their list
I said
Inside,
nice guy
Struggling with the cards that had been dealt
From working class days, Belfast, observing violence and the faint echos of parades
Helicopters overhead
Emotions always shift, just pass by on this conveyer belt
Zombefied diazepam to artificially feel the calm
Instilled,
and still
The body has long lost its way, strayed from the ignorant mind that once kept me safe
Black tracksuit nightfall leave without a trace
Toxic slurs at a pub handing over my worth moulding with folks like the ones who abandoned their goals
Snap the plank of pain in the smoking area reveal my secrets where my Bic lighter is the opposite of a fire fighter
Sorry I helped bring cancer to your lungs, tsunami boards I fought against who I wasn’t supposed to become
but the currant overcomes
Excuses to run, breathe in the whispers and wisdoms of the trees
See me, float with some weed steadily down a street
Incomplete
Night lights,
Search again for the missing piece
For fuck sake
Repel pastels
Long for bludgeoning reds
A high tech castle for a place to call home
Bloodhounds to roam the grounds, which poor corpse is next to be fed?
Goose fat, white marble floor
No doors
Full sprint
Skull shatter, kitchen sink
In the blink of an eye
Empath?
Impaled
Won’t last
Lookwarm
Blood bath
Immortalised
Holy grail
Both wrists
nailed
No doors
Full sprint
Skull shatter, kitchen sink
In the blink of an eye
Empath?
Impaled
Won’t last
Lookwarm
Blood bath
Immortalised
Holy grail
Both wrists
nailed
Poem: Respite
I stand and smell your scent on my shirt
A beautiful reminder
The summer dissipates
Better than the last
A bit of Bossa Nova
A bit of album making
The walks through the rounded hills, echos of the local football game chants
Ket is the weirdest ever in a good way
Before you know it, you’re high at the bus station
Traversing to the airport
Going somewhere new
////////////////////////////////////////////////
I feel you on my skin as the colourful evening draws to a close
We retreat to our individual solitude
I try to contain the lingering smell before it dissipates and I am left with my own
As the modern opponents grow stronger I continue to pace the floors—
knowing God can’t always be the complector and sometimes the cold is the greatest lesson
God, I can feel you tonight and I thank you for returning to me
Tonight’s warmth was something I haven’t felt for a long time,
4 AM was a magnificent hour.
We danced through realms and dripped through the floorboards
Culture is ever-shifting
The source of thought
“You’re not as dead as you seem”
I have this flawed way
In which I work with
At times, run from
To the times that are outdone
How to erase?
The strong hand,
Still an empty palm
A coat of arms
Deep in the farmland:
Reflections of society
The hubris
The concave
To convex
Inflection point.
Facing symbols
Work it out over your lifetime
The source of thought
“You’re not as dead as you seem”
I have this flawed way
In which I work with
At times, run from
To the times that are outdone
How to erase?
The strong hand,
Still an empty palm
A coat of arms
Deep in the farmland:
Reflections of society
The hubris
The concave
To convex
Inflection point.
Facing symbols
Work it out over your lifetime
The wild
goose chase
The politicians
The pompey
A Renaissance
Irreverence
The politicians
The pompey
A Renaissance
Irreverence
Post-product production
Chocolate without fat
Coffee without caffeine
Bread without gluten
Alcohol with no alcohol
Chocolate without fat
Coffee without caffeine
Bread without gluten
Alcohol with no alcohol
Post creation for the sake of doing something
Metamorphosis birthed in boredom
Multiplicity growing over the vacant
Metamorphosis birthed in boredom
Multiplicity growing over the vacant
The consumers at large don’t value art, onto the next glimpse of the conveyer belt.
Abyss
reversing through time
the futile chase for fame
the cannibals in the Hollywood hills
have all but had their thrill,
they're going in for the kill
Throw me into the abyss
when this heart is left adrift
stored above the fridge
thawed emotions
entrenched commotion replaying in my head
when this heart is left adrift
stored above the fridge
thawed emotions
entrenched commotion replaying in my head
allow me to be dead without causing any pain
the estranged better version of me I hope sees the light
deserving,
the estranged better version of me I hope sees the light
deserving,
reversing through time
the soldier marches on the bank for a country
the personified glory; a sea of people yet
we never get the individual story
the personified glory; a sea of people yet
we never get the individual story
falling from stories
with their stress from mortgage
the mortician doesn't turn the page
just props up the frame
with their stress from mortgage
the mortician doesn't turn the page
just props up the frame
the futile chase for fame
the cannibals in the Hollywood hills
have all but had their thrill,
they're going in for the kill
Spooky
Kraków first night, approaching midnight
Dander to a side street square beside neon sign building “KS Korona”
Woman pulling at her hair
Alone
“This is a prison!” She screeches then resumes Polish,
Once she noticed I noticed
Gave her a nod of approval
At my feet, something creeps
Giant rat
Runs into a pipe
Once she noticed I noticed
Gave her a nod of approval
At my feet, something creeps
Giant rat
Runs into a pipe
When you talk inside
Does inside talk back?
Or is inside so incomprehensibly black?
Shuttered in darkness driven remote on its track to seemingly nowhere without a thought to retract?
Or does it talk back?
The moonlit bossa,
beside first date plaza
the late romancer
the second chancer who already knew his answer
Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, France, 14 December 1503 birthed the Nostradamus
It isn't related to the poem but it rhymed and in the nature of being honest
this is the glimpse into the mind you'll find the not so linear split-tinear platoon of thoughts that on occasion consume
manifest and bloom projectin' the deepest of hues blue sonnets into my views
it isn't new though no longer appealing
deep inside every memory is a yellow wall just sittin' there peelin'
it may follow you as it did for me from Mississippi to New Orleans mm the stuff of dreams,
into UK scenes pirated radio garage beat tobacco weed
Who him!?
He rolls at spectacular speeds imagine what we could be, if we didn't get high as we pleased
Then they had to duck it was the Palermo police who feast and dine in New Ho King and look like a new regime of Hulk Hogan KFC bargain bucket soaken molten melting plastic
fuck it
I've had a Jurassic of a week looking at Donald Rump and Kam-ala Haggis on a feed
I said if this is my feed then I choose not to eat deleted the app and went to sleep this is quite peacefully fasting even though it's Geronimo slow up-up-upper social mobility—
I hope that mobility is everlasting where it goes 'cause the busting of arses in masses just to cash enough to get by if it's a pie they are getting two crumbs and a sigh displeased at the request of a third dispensed
it's a downer a clown with a frown arranged by a friend who swore he's sound that's life, the clown might stab you, you might be alright life in the middle class... it's a'ight
The world is but a living room, for me, for you.
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moon paw print , moon paw prant* incorporated
“The final”