Dog shit for the brain

depression session # 009


Just patpathethic

The two chameleons

Double trouble

mountains to move

Vast tyranny

And a few goodies in the bad

Praying harder nowadays

Sleeping better than waking

My double is eager to please

Seeds of love and the gossip of growth

mount baldly

I get lazy in the mornings
Nothing new
I get up to let out the two guests
They aren’t budging
Don’t you want to piss I think
No budge
It’s6.50, I piss
I roll back for more sleep or dreams
It’s evening
The sky is a painting
My eyes say it’s postmodernism
I don’t even know what that is
I don’t argue
The two guests
Our master is out
But watching


I just notice it
How her house looks so angelic
The walls
Spanish plastered white
Her skin
Smooth White
The bed sheets
Crisp white
She’s not here
I lie in her bed reading her books
Everything is perfect
She is protected


Why she likes red so much

Gossip in the pub (S.B)

He’s turning all the heads
That young fella from the east
Even Mary’s? taken to applying lipstick again
She hasn’t done that in years
But isn’t it happy for her?

The teacher wan should know better
With her middle class values and aspirations….
Ah sure what harm is it anyway…only a bit of fun…as long as no one gets hurt….
No one will get hurt…
They’re all too cute for that ….
Especially the teacher.



Poem about vicarious lifesaver

Are you really leaving university
Are you really getting your masters
A are you afraid to graduate
No map
Never was
You believe
Not I
Eyesockets jaws envisioning

Way past the finish line

Kept walking
It was safer
Shell forms after birth
Irony is cheap here
Youl get used to it
I did
The smell of your company
As you wish
Geni grows too
Dont leave him in so long
His shell is unknown
The limits of gods mercy is unknown
Cliche and lovin it
Lonely and blue just for you
Intellect is the new shotgun
Shouting together now
Bang bang rosie

Eroticas cave in the sky
We are all
or whistleblowers make the biggest cry
whose Intellectual property
an email and im the delivery boy…
so a nice old western should start off at a cemetry  then crash land future cemetery flash drive
life save….coder…no need for material here…
.you are immortals on hard disk…what  am I sayin….u are immortal in cloud?

more junk mail

the feminine is the ……oooops I forgot…..

a record of our lifes………? wha



what….pressure cookers…..

a poem at least….

I got synge…im not Rich am I now?

still the mob is ugly,has its nasties….getting there i am

poor people poor feeraris

hows about you

feelin it

feeling the pull

the always something deeper

the way we avoid in life

snake men and tattoos piersed people

we find our clubs…our…not theres

we dont cross paths nor use same bathrooms

we shock and awe at them

thoses selves in the souls with da sparkly eyes


Second hand


Too clever me monkey 


Our love is like a sick child

More holes than swiss cheese

More draughts than an abondoned crow infested house

Our love is like a sick child

Not yet dying…not yet dead

Clinging on….hanging…by a thread..

Our love is like a sick child

It needs love….ironic! WhAt!

What are you talking about ironic..whose writing…whose reading…why are you writing this dribble

Throw in a cumshot why dont you

Theres always one in a room

Mostly they stay silent…cuz actually they is more than one,but…well alphas are more numerous than it seems..only well okay move on

Our love is like a sick child

We feed it shit and pretend were doing our best…fancy a shag…no but yes

Will we put it to bed….our child is sick…what will we do

I’l Cry later

How and when, i do not know

we couldn’t can’t

not together

you cry now, il cry later

they’ve been swallowed so long now they are very lonely

things meet through loneliness

 A pint glass and a hand

A branch on the cliff edge

A boy needs his scout badge

Mossys gone quare!

who does read a poet

Number 8

you limped in here with your suitcase and your rusted old crown

you sang us tales of madness of missions and of song

you built up dreams of castles, of open skys and fields so green

Now that king has become a Villian, his castle not his own

now the waiting staff must dethrone their crown a tinfoil hat

No army came to beat us , only friends and foes from yorn

A drama loves a sequel, but act two will be ours alone

Though the king was mad his lips gave not a word

passing traders were left with nothing but a glance

the fall of man around us our conversation from the start

And so it ends to how it began

A misery inside no cure from outside shall find

the gold will only shine at the death of you and me

Jet Fuel Love

A love

Not fit for most vehicles

this love has an added touch

the sole of the shoe

a touch down each stride

cylindrical love

turbo love

steel love


3 seconds love

crazy love

van the man scissors kick love

honest love

corrupt love

who knows love

freaky love

chakra love

painful in the rear love

waterfall in throat

whats to say

what to say


Sweet on the spot

My whispering love, are you still waiting

Does you still hear that silent deafening reverb

Are you on that rock or have you moved on

why they say one side rules is a cash game im sure

No card for unrequited love

But alas this is not unrequieted

Its whispered far off in the lottery hoping love listens after all

Cold heart thawing after all these years

A cold night can now make it glow and a wind whips it to dance

you still listening my love, still got that glow

maybe 30 years it crossed our path

Bucket and sand pureness of heart

waiting on now holding this seed

an unheralded victory in itself , loves immortal whisper

these deep swallowed words like a pen grip too tight

force one to repeat unforgiving trite

Release all this stiffness and let pain find its way

to the whispering end of the start of the night

Its funny how that ship sailed too

loved to hang out over the edge

and gaze at crashing tyrants and icy waters

broken mirrors and death still vastness

but those masts and ropes were limp by themselves

it was nice in the cabin to rest and eat

and with candles and ocean we rocked our way through

its funny how I cant look at you now without thinking one too

that our first night as shipmates we were blasted , thourally through and through

rarley stopping to pick up hand mates or crew

baffled by natures other great land

a swimming mass of darkness or blinding eye food

now the hands of the ship are none to be seen

it rolls round the coasts only ghosts see it too

a rhyme might be simple and fun

but a ship needs a captain

or without it, its through

A Skin for dancing in

those precious white tears run down your face

they leave crevasses that you dont see, waht you see is blinding light

can i borrow your hand one more time, a last dance…last…always one more last dance

it takes too long now and instruction has killed the hand of death..

Mosarts now on keypads and screens , great strength now being transferred back

Back…imagination is worldly wisardry…graduation in middle age from our old foe if we are lucky

That old ego is a twisted friend….hard to drop…hard to get to know..and thats language for the ward

The cosmic dance calls us out to loosen up…we dont need q cards…we needs what we got not what we not

can you do a drum roll with your fingers and toes and just for a moment relinquish those foes

Athe computer



early retirement



your going to recycle me arent you mr. turing


Best fucking haiku

The drunk forgot his name

Full Stop

Our own Darjeeling limited

danced in storms

did limbo in our own streams of piss

saw eachother in own dreams

in our rare handwriting, our not so secret notes

forever was the force and twas will that made us move

until will it was again that bound us part

like convergence of the spheres

our own focus does remain

To die a death beside your lover

and to wake fresh from slumber

The old and decayed thunder

the inherited death fright from



infinite eternity

aging        and some fool says you’ve got another year…older

you feel older, i feel closer

and some worker says i’ve got more saved …youve got more saved,, ive got more days

and your hips hardened, my hips hardened,….the soft hips

pretension works a treat but is much too cold for winter

joyce rancid chewed but not swallowed in rooms with AC

imagine, like a master showing the students ,the sniggering students

their hard limbs and crooked lines

and the master like boiled spaghetti slapped against the wall


and the gray day comes with whines and up electric heat turns

and the fire warms ALL

words as wells

deep beautiful

refreshing reverberating

dried up

better stay here

jobs seem it

words cannot explain

beautiful words for thirsty traveller

like my own face i never saw them

just something……..

Passport Renewal


Don’t smile

wonder why

(tears unlike blood)

Shouldn’t we be storing
Deep tears beneath your years
Underground rivers
The drill is constantly going
Laughter or the price of laughter has hit rock bottom
But we love anyway

The Laughing girls

Ah, they did crosswords on the train

listening to lEONard cohen

plugs in my ears hearing the hyenas

they might have been wanna be lovers

on way to dublin most

I a can of cider lunch

the litter far and getting farther away

walking through the streets

the trash is decreasing

and so is the speech

you’l be a phoenix i say

another will cry

words now mean very much

the silence came like Thor and a hard on

Couldnt join in

the intense pleasure was there

right there

you saw the happiness

you or I

He wasnt there

that was the beauty of it

showing the sacred door swung open

he moved that kitchen floor


something too strong to hold

couldnt join in

Maybe you saw it years later

Maybe not

Too strong to join in too much to contain

Black hole now travelling up your neck

It is too much to contain or too stong to hold

Couldnt join in

Shall it be this way

I Says

i says to you, whats going on in the world

Sure same ol’ same ol’

its crazy

it sure is

i says, tis going to get worse


Sure the bible says so

Thats mad

Sure is

I says, fancy a pint

Grand job

Instant scoop

how come you took so long

was your battery power gone

had you no wifi today

how are you


you probably have no credit

hey, you missed two calls from me

are you alright

are you alive

how are you

instant society

just forget it

like a fast car

mouth gaped

oh you little shithead in the corner

not that gaped


how fast was that

where was I


destruction by relativity

keys on auto

old friends coming though like beacons


they all know now

Manic depression is so in

its a homeopathic remedy

what the fuck are you talking about says he

we suffer for the beauty of art

oh come on,what are you smoking says he

and whos this ‘we’ shit

x-factor doesnt make me suffer

i guess your right says i

lucky prick

my [self] in the way


Stands in the way – i do

but not of thou


language for where no language exists

invisible bridge

visible blackness

whole life built on supporting the structure

burning man comes too late

or too soon by inquisition

nevermind you, nevermind me

before is the new now

The world is not yet ready or pass the torch

I sat for about 20 something lectures

listening to mostly sounds of laptop keys

notebooks being open, wroten on

bags…bags….more bags….open,close


note taking

then the lecturers voice, talking about so and so

all past, all under many layers of everything in the world

we are passing the torch people , are we not

who are the mad men, the saints, the sinners, the inventors

stand up


sit there and continue on your way

where do we put the full stop?

I’m signing out of this one


just before the fall of winter

what is autum telling us

these beautiful colours

decay is beautiful it says?

my neighbour is decaying

sitting over there in his little room

i in this one

no mortician could change the face of Fall

Winter is coming and it paints us its final vision

before it dies and will come again with new stories and leaves, one more time

Gods and Kangaroos

the more destructive ego is the one that limits creation

it supports structures such as

oh,  Spakespeare will never be equaled

i just have to send a twitter

im sorry, you can’t sit there sir

Sir – a dead word now used for the poor

it doesnt allow free thought

there is not even a free thought in there in many bodies

everything was signed up for or downloaded

scared people sometimes of great strength , but now its either more dormant than an aging virgin priests cock or lying in wait, like a man in a cave with the apocoylpse outside

Limiting creating is now hard to see, always was not like this

it will not continue to be like this, the circles are very close in joining another dance

the tumor of today is kids under 10 years of age having done more dance lessons

tennis lessons, kickboxing , birthday parties ,tore about so many gifts that they cannot even see what it is

they are trying to open , only another smile or frown for mammy and daddy,their powerful , really only card in the deck

“that has so been done before” is only made less visible  by the youths who say it

tanned and toned and looking pretty, in gothic type beauty

its no different from nursing homes and crabby old people surrounded by even crabbier younger people cleaning the slop from there ass and mouth

The unseen fabric of creativity now continues underground

and it weaves , always weaves

its lovely to be even a strand

Anti social spreads its wings like the beautiful crow watched by a begger

The tide is coming in now

we always in time have played in this tide

letting it wash over our feet

and we danced

yea, in Ceaser’s time, there were rules

one pays 50 now to see a trival sports game, just so as to brush against another mans arm and make believe you are brothers with him

one payed probably little more than nothing or nothing to see loins tear good and bad men apart in the  Colluseem

The tide now is making each uncomfortable

dancing now well up to our neck

theres is nowhere to go because the land is on fire, the beach a desolation of misrery

walking on now or staying put will lead to the same outcome

walking back will not

odd shaped things in her vagina

anger over a shiny object spinning with lights and proprioceptive pleasure
the mushroom i took made the object,my subjective symbology blow out
she came and i loaded on another carcass
only 7 years later to drop off
sitting by the window,windy rainy day, curtains 90 % closed
warm fire on
body looseing up
i still yank my chain though
mind is stiffer than body truth be told
i was an odd shaped thing for her vagina
what imprint did i make in there

Less a home

We are all homeless

If i cannot look you in the eyes, its my unspeakable

Im just lucky , clever enough, or put up with or get put up with to have a place to call home

Your personality made you sleep outside

One good luck story cannot be made mainstream

Yes your hardluck is pretty shitty i know

Its kind of brutal really

your mortgage is bitter disillusionment and you pay on time every time

No interest in Chosen Subject 



It would be a heck of a Shot

Its supposed to spark interest

KEys! Lights! Graphics! USB!

Fora moment anyway

But then the caveman is always there

Pulling his plonker

that’s enough

He makes me wonder,more than the computers

Look away from the screen

Up, Tilt back

Infinite Suns , just for your eyes

Full stops! Commas, Fuck you’s

Technology has tamed us too much

the caveman is now well and truly sick

The eyes dazzled like endless credits

Still no Creditor

Trying too hard, a style

Everything is wound up, to click sooner or later

some things go rusty and just spring, years after you thought

others go like clockwork

Too hard they say, oh thats no style

Shes a try hard

In a glass bubble

but you, who hold that hammer can set her free

only you don’t want to

That will mean joining in a little

Most like it served on a platter

tickets Please!

Act first think later fucked up

Arseways – Out of control mindfulless

Very aware – Painfully aware

Haiku, reading them out my Hole


Body Twisted Copies Mind


A day to come like no other

I might laugh and not look back at all

unless to laugh

Made in 


Im living more and more in china than Anywhere else

not like a book anymore,not taking up space

More like a page in a web

A complex forgotten obituary

I open my computer , china

I pull a string out of my jumper , china

I jerk off , china

i eat bad nian gao , china

i talk to girls , china ,  99% maybe

i hand my friend a little gift , china

I am twinned with china


My whole god dam life is a forge

Hammering out moments like a blind black smith

Shoes that will never fit

creating noise

yes,il have those documents tomorrow

Fancy a Coffee

i couldnt say fancy a fuck

pros and cons of being disabled/Abled

People lightly to laugh at you, even you

more of a chance of being mugged

could have a great disabled/abled friend or a prick

People find pleasure in helping you

more of a chance to get laid with more erotic fetishes these days

heaps of benefits

fewer steps these days, more pavement

A little MOre

Oh that was a nice dinner

Just one more helping

is there only 2 episodes in your hand

i thought you got the boxset

Is that the final count for the party

Send another Group text

Got lovely shoes yesterday in Penneys, so cheap!

Il go back tomorrow and pick up another 2 pairs

gosh I’m Full after that

Fancy having desert?

Its beautiful weather today isn’t it?

yes, wish it would stay like this all year

How old was he when he died?

Oh sure, that was too young to go

Fancy making love>

Only if we can use all the strap-ons

Just a little more…..

The Pervert

The Dutch women really got him – chinese yellow fever was healed – forgotten about- the dutch were his new favourite – A tall race of women , the beauty came on at an early age. The looks began to flow and once that ass became bicycle seat bearing age , the hips , the magical doors opened up a little enough to squeeze through god knows what fuck objects, he didn’t talk about sex with women, he spoke little to other guys, he kept it tom himself, mostly, the internet was his postcards. He would regularly send to himself to gratify the serpent that would like a pig for years frustrate his ass muscles or as sense he could remember. the dutch women really burned his loins, he would want to experiment with them, to feel there skin. rub their bellies with his beard, even the younger ones, left open to the imagination , of course…a couple of 16-17 years olds , he would imagine tickling them, to feel their vibrating bellies ,, like rugs of ‘soft silk dancing for him…the dutch women were his new favorite, his new love, forever until the mother in them came out. anything not to remind him of the mother, and he wondered what strong love he had for his mother. It was a preying mantis- he was waiting for something – always waiting–just putting down time- a pervert??????????????

Constantly two at one

ON the phone driving down the freeway

on the toilet and texting

eating dinner and watching the soaps

thinking about that secetry as you ride your wife

answering the kids while daydreaming about your dreadful life

doing nothing when you can do something

throwing good money after bad

calling in sick when you want to call it quits

saying hello when you want to ask her out

rolling the dice when you could roll home

Constantly 2 at one


the Claws were sharp as razors

they needed to be

the flesh and hide was the barrier though to deaths little laugh

another round in the bardos

and then the nail salon

the mirco graffiti on their talons

the poor blokes would see at least a graphic slash to the juggler

a final flash of romance before being clawed

always clawed

the men and orangutans learned from each other

but their lesson was not a wise one

forcing the will even for gratification is weakness

but the talons were sharp

sharp as hell

DollyMOunt Strand

He roared on that Tractor like he never roared before. He could hear his father in his mind, laughing about some presenter on rte wailing on dollymount strand roaring and swearing ,throwing fucks into the sky.
“and there coming down the outside, dali lama on the last hundred yards followed closely by Buddha Dharma and again followed by Jeasus Christ” the tractor was stationary, just sitting on the yard. turned on yes, he was not at the stage where he didn’t give a fuck yet.That was what he wanted more than anything. to not give a flying fuck.

The voice was going so weak, as he was shouting about the riders taking each other on on the last hundred yards, even with funny names like Jesus and Buddha dharma, he had time to think about how he never roared these days,since school was over , you stopped roaring. maybe some poor sons of bitches did off in the alleys after dark and the tough sons of bitches who went off to join the policeforce or the army. that’s why they went there maybe,poor sons of bitches didn’t care if they ended up on a surgeons table decorated  in lead or dead in the field as long as they could roar.

ANd here was this misfortune, a soldier,maybe, but in an a category all to himself. Roaring away in a Zetor 3366, roaring away about an infamous day at the track and seeing that he had gone this far he finished out the race in style…tomorrow there would be another day at the track or there would be another slow decay,he looked forward to the track. at least it gave him 10 minutes every morning…when his mother was gone to work,turn the zetor on and 10 glorious minutes where the god damn psyche didn’t have a clue which way to look…the racetrack death scream.

And the Dali Lama wins it by a hairs breath!

Plastic Cadaver

China will have big questions to answer
big molded conveyer belt questions
toys will scatter the seas and planet
smog will hang around to see another epoch
micro chips will be eaten by fish for years
oil will spew from the gills of sea creatures
oil will be harvested from humans
china will have many questions to answer
china will not exist one day
the place formally known as china will be free of this burden of
toy shop of the world
plastic wrapped and bubble packaged answers by the new land and fogive them of their ignorance
the new humans will be a mix of puny and heroically strong
the puny will live outside in the cold and the heroic will have gold beds                                                                             china will not have to answer for its shrink wrapping of the dolphins
the usa will no longer exist
it will be a state of super heroes with vast lands and waste land
the earth will be tapped for heat and its temperature will keep the
heroes sedated
the puny will feel its wrath and some prophets will say rightly so
the puny had it coming and maybe they created it eons before
China will be forgiven all its tragediennes once earth is left
new lands and space awaits far off with the heroes beating their chest in anticipation                                                        there will be no use with the puny coming to the new places far out                                                                                      nor will they be invited, but once the heroes will no doubt carry forth the puny prodege and some day in some far off cosmic vista the puny will pretend to rise and tragically fall once more the Dna that was bought all that time ago will be sold at a loss and neither man nor beast nor neo human will know if the game is rigged to fall

White Hot Hurt

White hot hurt was what he felt

every time he would go there or either she,

always fueled by some old new mistake or by booze

etched into them real deep,more like an underground river by now

layers had grown over and time had forgotten all about that gushing water

rushing its way through the land

It was a beautiful water if only they could have been alive

Time now was confusing to him,it seemed to play tricks on him,going backwards and forwards. he could not keep track of it anymore.

He would be in a moment and past future and either all unpleasantness or something nice would be there

He couldn’t remember birthdays or things like that..never really only his own

He liked dance music now,never had really…real driving grooves like the chemical brothers, they at least kept good time

it was while he was writing these words that he stopped typing..

only to start again,on another page

Too much like a child 

Strictly speaking , Attention seeking

wasn’t very funny in with my time keepng

it kept me full of folly , without just Christmas holly

365 days a year ,some just think im queer

skipping the steps or skimming the pond

your sure to see people laughing out loud

i strolled Kenya and brought my keeper

a big barreled woman with a star-sign completein

my interest in wine and a fair bottomed swine

For she took more of my money

that all my previous honies

and laughed like a cat while she

kicked dust on me mat

and strolled off by

with a fuck you in her eyes and


Cunning Lip Service
she said she knew what he would say
he said he knew she would say that
he licked his lips twice and she smiled
you full of shit she said
i am full of shit, you not?
are you coming with me or not?
yes, she said..Im coming
Pink ELephant

Oh, the pink elephant

who rotted through the floor,
left nought behind but stench and smell
less body did eyes find.
The abominable presence
like pink should titter man
a wee too hue for a puffed out muscle
a puffed out just keeps itself stew
lest it be forgotten
that it all vanquished unknown
the pink elephant smiles
from each nostril whens drew .
Home Again
Back home again
walking the fields of the farm
animals come to see me
its winter,its getting harder for them
its getting easier for me,or so it should be
i light the fire,hang some clothes,wash some dishes
a dream life,for somebody digging through trash or dying in a gutter
a new beginning in an old place
Truth can be seen through more than one pair of eyes
a reference thats never quite right
some day there will be no more eulogies
some day thee be only one motion 
like dying starlight,
A memory can blind you,
it feels new now
Sloth Cafe
sitting in the sloth cafe
after two morning beers and meeting aa bartender from the night before going for  haircut
i come to the sloth cafe or it comes to me as a sign that i have become a sloth
lazy,sleepy,lusting for a rebirth to a higher dimension
the rules of life no longer keep me bound
but send me trailblaising like a dying star in the cosmos
in the sloth cafe i wonder about waht i shall be the next misson
shall i ever want tio change from being a sloth
its warm and comfortable
welcome to the sloth cafe
Paradise and Bukowski
I guess it could be the severity of the present moment
i guess it could be the beautiful snooze
like little extionions of our loved ones passed
we are never better than the saints thast have just passed
i guess we could hope for sweet saliva to wash us up
on a shore thats as soft as a womens breast while she weeps
sweet life ontop of her baby and lets him suckle the juice of life
oh why must poetry be contrived and tried
and why must we buy breast milk in a tin
oh dont ask why
oh dont ask why
What would happen

what would happen if love hit

would it knock you over or turn you sour
would it chisel you into a weapon of fire
and melt others hearts when you found them
what would happen if love hit
would you think its your last chance or would you
beilieve it was love at all
what would happen if love passed you by
you wouldn’t let that happen would You
Poem for 3 Brownies 

As we stroll on these dusty roads

paved with gold and death
we ponder.
the hedgerows of conforminty the briars of wild desire
the yearning for something else that gives us a lighted seed deep inside
The animals are now looking at us
like Crystal gems giving and recience the same water that flows though us
and with the same light that which glints in our eyes
we have never been so close to the cookie jar
and yet, What will our Eve do this time?
blinding magnetism
the connection was strong tonight
walking up a dark road to see the only neighbour i chat with these days
people dont talk with him, he is an outsider 
then again its tough work talking with him 
he does not like adding sentences
it made me angry tonight and i feared it at the time
i guess i wanted to prove something to him
i proved to myself that the mirror was looking back with a different face
i saw the eyes gleaming, the unknown, the hopeless of trying to know
getting pulled by the magnatism is grand but getting stuck in a deadend is powerful
if you feel the priest coming out in you, the messiah, the gospel
make sure the crowd sees you standing tall 
its better to be on your legs because one can always run away
Many questoins go unanswered with this man
he talks and talks and talks, never stops talking really
I have introduced him to peopl i have met to show him
to make sure that they knew this man existed
talking talkng talking
the shelters in boston and the blacks and the white fighting
he strumms like a machine and a dylan possesed just to play for me
he is a signpost, a great big signpost for me, a billboard for change
tonight i passed up on the whiskey in his house
the temptation was so strong,booze/pills/prozac
who would find themselves in a house like this in the countryside
A man wallowing away like a blunt knife that saves from being thrown 
those watching the box and laughing at gameshows wouldnt find this gameshow funny at all
the cold house with the cold reality of life,not a frame too fast or too slow
yet many want to miss each glimpse

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