Showing posts with label professional mad person. Show all posts
Showing posts with label professional mad person. Show all posts

Saturday, 3 July 2010

I started out first as a poet - here are some of my words

Pavement Poem

Do not step here
my dreams have fallen
out of my pocket, and
are hard to find again.
Don’t grind them into the ground
Otherwise I will have to wait
for the rain to run into the cracks
to the feed the daisies
to push them back up again

SPYCHOSIS

let’s go fly a kite &
see wombs reject clouds
I’ve got the hole word in my hand
crucified by candy floss
I throw out the rubbish
and find my dreams
which ones are recyclable, I don’t know.

Second-hand slumber is not so bad,
sleeping in your dreams is good enough
Something must be rested
Do you realise you never look in your diary in dreams
you always know what to do next.

Waking is putting on the body again
I never seem to find one that fits.

The smile is cut out to provide a spyhole
my paranoia gets stuck between my teeth

It’s a grind.
I am hungry now.
I have fallen down a hole
surviving on catatonic toothpaste
till my rescue.

My silent screams have fresh breath.

welcome to my dream
there is no admission fee
and you will leave something behind anyway

Friday, 2 July 2010

the Libel of Sanity

The libel of sanity. Can you prove reality exists in a court of law? Where are the witnesses? Where is the evidence? Except the invented evidence. You build the walls and say reality exists within these walls? Take the walls away and what have you got?
The jury is out. Their heads play games too. Spin doctors with their medication and their chemical concept of truth, their pills of soul kill. They say Heaven is a subsidiary
of a pharmaceutical company
And you ask why people choose to stay in their hell?