Rooms

The little plastic hula girl is swaying side to side and looks at me

Her solar powered movements are so simple but they bring great joy to me

The rows of white fluorescent lights set within the pockmarked ceiling tiles

Are no match for the light she brings when she dances, when she glances, when she smiles

Fuchsia and purple, and snow is white

Aqua and slate, and black is midnight

Orange and forest and plum and sky

And then there is sunset, where time goes to die

Languages

Tap tap chatter chatter laugh laugh ring ring chatter chatter tap tap cough cough

The chatter and the noise from the girls and from the boys

The self-important talking the posturing of the walking

Stoney faced, forward facing

Important walking, determined pacing

Hollowed out and followed out

Punch the little piggy's snout

Filled with food to lighten the mood

Hollow again, now time to brood

A violin ensemble playing sul ponticello

An uneasy rain of sticks on hardwood

That’s the sound inside our head

That we’re trying to drown out with others instead

A vehicle feverishly scampers by with its sirens wailing and its lights all flailing.

The burning glare of the reds and blues

A gleeful smear against the dusky hues

Of the city’s early evening in the Autumn

I think I used to believe in more

But now I’m just a f—king bore

A monumental hypocrite

And I try to reason that I’m proud of it

Now spotted and dotted about the town

We walk about with faces down

And we pray:

For the time that passed us by, just as our kith and kin

For the time that is to come, with all of its rancour and din

For the time that hangs around us now, and holds us tightly in

We both thank and curse the Lord in equal parts

Amen

Screens on walls

Cascading waterfalls

Of numbers and words

Of symbols and blurbs

Of jpegs and gifs

New world hieroglyphs

Too fast for reading

The pixels are bleeding

As long as it looks like I’m watching I can appear informed

"The innocence of youth

Combined with an ignorance to truth

A pair of wide eyes

That welcome in the targeted lies"

Be passionate about today’s movement!

Yell! Charge! March! Protest!

Create a banner/poster/t-shirt/etc.!

Write letters! Spray paint walls! Vandalise!

Form groups! Write songs! Organise!

Scandalise! Antagonise! Brutalise! Demonise!

Oh look!

Those new shoes you wanted are on sale!

F—k the cause! Go and get those wonderful f—king shoes!

Telling the masses of asses to combine

Get in line, and align, and to move in time

He-haw! He-haw!

File through the door

The same door, the lame door, every time

"We are identically unique!

We demand that our individuality be collectively recognised!

Organised!

Systematically categorised!

We stand unanimously polarised!"

"Just wait

And many of them will back down

Just wait

And many of them will quieten down

Just wait

And the fire will burn out and not re-ignite

Just wait

Their sense of responsibility for others will do the job

Just wait

And the taste of finer things will conflict and/or distract them… it’s far easier to fight the fight when you have less to lose

Just wait

They may not fall in line

But they will, at least, shut up"

I’ve Not Seen It Happen Like This Before

The moon lifts itself in scarlet anger above the lip of the near horizon

Larger than the town that it scrutinises, peering inside all that it lays its eyes on

Inside every window, inside each soul, It counts against us each of our sins

Pushing up above the hills, then standing staunchly, just before its rise begins

solvitur ambulando

A leisurely walk through this magnificent woodland at least once a day is a must. Rain or shine, to not take the opportunity to wander, not so much aimlessly, but rather curiously, is a terrible waste. At this time of year the days are quite some bit longer and so the chance to wander lingers for longer and so there really is no excuse for not getting about when the day's work is done, even if you had yourself a small wander after finishing off your lunch earlier in the day. Now when we say that the day is longer, obviously we realise that the day itself is the same length of time as every other time of year, but you know what we mean. Perhaps this was unnecessary, but we know that some folk are quite particular, or let's say finicky, about many a range of matters. They are precisely the same sort of people that don't go for walks and so have more time to spend on trifles and issues of little to no importance. It can happen to any of us, so be warned. Get out, get about, and most of all, don't become finicky.

Screen

There she is

Her nuances – fascinating

All others on my film are interesting enough, but she is

 Different… so…

Consuming

Turn

Turn again

Allow the breeze to catch your hair

You’re so extraordinary

I know you recognised me yesterday in the street

Didn’t you?

You can fathom something more

When you study from afar

Our learned ones aren’t smart

They’re just not emotionally involved

A smear distorts the image and morphs beauty into distaste

Need to keep the image clear, clean, and wholesome

Just for now I’ll float on by

Watch the film of you roll by

Meandering throughout the plain

Of vastness deep and without name

No more consumed, now I’m free

Translucent sights beguiling me

No delusions of clarity

Just the way truth’s meant to be

Vaguely now this world of yours is made known by its semaphores

No longer bound by my room’s four walls, together now, I’m truly yours

Species

Seminal elite

The great meet and greet

To hold private witness to worth

Eradicate, delete

Those with heavy feet

It’s just some well earned mirth

Several spectacular specimens from the selected sample of the homo sapien species sit and slither serpentinely on seats of smooth steel, sipping seductively on goblets of silver, smiling to their spectacular selves.

Severed hand, messy hand, this one in another land

Blown away, while I sway, wind and breeze now falls away

Breezy breeze, make them freeze, another call, another tease

Fairly new, then he threw, all the worlds both old and new

Tickle, fickle, snicker, bicker, don't hold down the muster pack

The muster pack, with hairy back, throws it in and cuts the slack

Follow, fallow, fall away

The reds, the oranges, blacks, and blues

Sprawling wide, the many hues

The deep blood of the red land

Spilled

Covered up

Swallowed up

Then used to paint the land

The walls

This hive and that hive

Every busy noisy bee inside this hive will stay alive

Send them in, send them in, send them in and sacrifice the lot

Send them in while the poster grins They don't care as long as the heaving mass will rot

Send the germs in, send the germs in, send the germs in and lay to waste the lot

A smile on a dying face as the earthly cares finally amount to naught

Tilled fields

Rolling fields

Narrow roads all wet

The horizon the steeples

The invisible peoples

The ones we never met

Bronzed eyes are staring back

Hairy four-legged king

Be-stilled but wary of attack

But all the while we sing

My squeaky shoe sounds like a laugh

Maybe

Hello?

Hey

Oh hey. Yeah, look, I'm sorry that I lied. I'm sorry that I laughed when you got hurt. I'm sorry that I made you cry. I'm sorry that I tore my shirt. I'm sorry that I thought unkind thoughts about that guy over there. I'm sorry that I swore. I'm sorry that I took the last biscuit. I'm sorry i'm a bore. I'm sorry that I scolded the cat and then kicked it. I'm sorry that when I lost at cards I said you didn't play fair. I'm sorry that I chew noisily. I'm sorry that I laugh annoyingly. I'm sorry I read your email. I'm sorry you had a bad day. I'm sorry I don't like the same things you do. Im sorry I missed the bus. I'm sorry you missed the bus. I'm sorry I don't make a fuss. I'm sorry that I make a fuss. I'm sorry that you hurt yourself even though I wasn't there. I'm sorry that your pet died, your friend died, your favourite celebrity died. I'm sorry for world hunger, for racism, for the famine, for the pestilence, the black plague. I'm sorry for sectarian violence, for religion in general and disease.

Maybe I should laugh

Maybe I should scowl

Maybe I should seem non-fussed

Maybe I should howl

Maybe I should be sarcastic

Maybe I should cry

Maybe I should seem distant

Maybe I should sigh

Maybe I should just get up and take myself away

Maybe I should do it discreetly I don't want to offend anyone

Maybe I shouldn't care

Of course I should, though

Maybe

I think

Maybe

I don't know

I might just sit somewhere and look busy for a while

Alright, I’ve got to go. Okay, seeya. Bye.

Kilenzick

Everything is bright

Smithton is here Mr. Armstrong

I am Smithton

A southern cross star

A pentagram

A Star of David

A communist star

A star is a ball of flame

But the flame is the point, not the shape

The fire that burns within when we connect the image with the meaning

This is Smithton

We are here

Please refer to me as “Kilenzick of the fields” for the time being.

Zip lock bags, writing books, pictures, videos

We are afraid to forget

Or not wanting to let go

Or wanting an escape always at our fingertips.

Though sometimes we want to remember things the way that we want to

Not necessarily the way the way they happened

Actually

We definitely only ever remember things the way we want to

Even if we don’t realise it

It’s human nature

Our reality is what we believe it is

A person who believes they are someone else

Say an historical figure

Who are we to say that they aren’t?

If they firmly believe it, does it make it true?

Can we escape what is considered ‘reality’ for something else?

If we firmly and honestly believe it, we aren’t crazy

We have achieved it

“I am Gutenberg!”

Okay, sure.

Everything is dark now

But that’s alright

Sometimes that’s alright

Sometimes we just need to sit in the dark

senex

Old Mr Bowler

Grown up and bolder

Groaning old soldier

Sewn up shoulder

Everything

In store now!

Unbelievable savings across our entire range!

50% off storewide!

Everything must go!

All colours, all shapes, all sizes

 ALL 50% off!

Come in store to take home a bargain!

You’ve never seen prices like these before, and you’ll never see prices like these again!

That’s right, 50% off storewide!

Absolutely everything must go!

Locks the kids in the car!

You won’t want any distractions from these amazing savings!

Hurry, hurry hurry!

Bring you friends!

Spread the word!

There are massive savings in store now for everybody!

But only for a strictly limited time!

So come in store now!

Hurry, hurry, hurry for savings, savings, savings!

50% off storewide!

Everything MUST go!

Pulling and Pushing

Elvis pushed me in the chest once

Or maybe it was a punch, I can't remember.

Elvis was in the yellow house

I was in the red house

I pushed him back

Or punched him back

I can't remember

I was made to sweep the leaves behind the homes

The girls by the stream watched

They waved

I danced with the broom

They liked it when I danced with the broom

I didn't like Elvis

But I enjoyed dancing with the broom for the girls by the stream

Elvis pushed me in the chest once

Or maybe it was a punch, I can't remember

Elvis was in the yellow house

I was in the red house

I danced better than Elvis

The Bay

There are two men that walk with each other just about every lunch time. They argue. They are arguing with each other every time I pass them out there. I don't get it. Is it an enjoyable relationship between the two of them? Do they choose to interact this way? Is it something they decided between the two of them? That they would use their lunch times as an opportunity to debate various topics with each other? It seems tedious. Though perhaps they consider themselves to be philosophical giants carrying on with the noble art of philosophical debate and the search for truth. I just think they're loud obnoxious and annoying. Its all in the delivery I guess.

Wales

Taking in the beauty

At 100 miles per hour

If you take it any slower

Does the sweet become sour?

The diminishing power

Of each yawning flower

If you're going to collide, you may as well make sure you'll die

———

The steam and the horses will fuel the commute

James Bailey will fuel the folk

And every piece of history needs a paid car park of tar

With its falling metal fences

So fall all the pretences

But I guess its a few blocks away