Clocking on an off
The trouble is
You can go anywhere now
Up an owl’s beak
Landrove the hedgerow
Mummy is a bag of mice
Sugar bloat the scarecrow
Up to the ears in blood sick wound waves
Coming over rugged
The hills and fjords
The rocket tramp railways
Coming over tunnel bound
Like the ghost of storytime -
Wrapping us in silk
You are all invisible
Silent like a flower
Emulsify my soul...
What is the soul - She is a word
Wasn’t it the word which began the shabbang
The big shabbang which leads to nothing
Via the gameshow
The news
And an in depth interview
With a bag of giblets?
Why do the government sanctify you?
Why do the factories knock you out?
Why do the scientists sanitise you?
Why do the lonely turn you on?
Out spews the dead fruit
Crash bang bomb blast
Moon rust cannibal
Monkey in a wet suit
Burying his valuables
Don’t adjust the contrast
Candidate the pitch
Let the dead change channels
Without the aid of a switch
Go to the jungle in your vest
Slit your goat on a turtles nest
I’d have her waxed
But it would reflect badly
She can be at rest under the coffee table
Whilst i eat my self like curry
Let dostoevsky paint with erudition
Let the priestette stroke his dove
My wife died of malnutrition
I’m engorged on a glow-worm’s love.
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