I am not interested in the niceties

I am not interested in the bullshit

I am not interested in the games

I am not interested in hegemonically coded vistas of social interaction

I just want to say my piece…

let love rule

let us be open, direct and honest in our business

let trust enter the building

let us fuck in the streets

and let the streets never give a fuck

let us hammer drums and chant nonsense syllables

let us dine together

let us plot schemes speeding

let us dance

let us live

let spirituality be liberated from the shackles of institution

and let it be woven into the fabric of everyday life

let love rule



It is about doing incredibly fast head maths

and never showing yr workings out

instead biro sketching sunflowers and angels in the margins

drawings in the margins of everything

In the Capri Sun world where we suck lemons

in the database economy where algorithms dictate culture


book two weeks off work

do a large grocery shop

buy a large quantity of hash

buy a large quantity of Diazepam

smoke the hash every day

do yoga every day as soon as you wake up

for the first five days take 4mg Diazepam as needed up to three times per day

eat pizza, drink tea

play videogames

watch French New Wave films

walk in the park

develop an interest in fast paced crime fiction thrillers

don’t smoke cigarettes



Dandelion blown, the pieces settle slowly and softly

I sift through the rubble and pick them up one by one

Rebuild the plant w/ Pritt Stick and good intentions

Leaving out the weak bits, aiming for a perfect fiction

then a pretty girl walked up to me and said

what kind of crazy bastard reconstructs a dandelion?

Let them rot or let them grow!”

I lit a cigarette and got on with the rest of my life


we come in clusters

sharing taxis driven by men who sailed oceans to escape the squallor

but we love the whiff of death and seek an absence of hygiene

because we are sterile and the chemicals on our lettuces make us soft and pale

we are nothing more than subcultural revivalists

replacing self-awareness w/ enthusiasm and narcotics

climbing through the lights

skeletons in the forest

idealistic signage

lost in so many ways

I asked a man for directions

and he stammered in reply

he looked terrified

I think he was Algerian

3 AM

orgasms under canvas

then, days later…

job money

sleep lack

5 AM


while next door’s cat takes a shit in our seed trays


They see themselves through the eyes of a lover

I see myself through the eyes of a crazy old man

who yells abuse at thunderstorms

because they keep him awake all night

Thunderstorms which rumble like a gang of infants on the floor above

Thunderstorms which hate the old man and hate me

Thunderstorms which hate the rich

Thunderstorms which hate yr prize cheekbones

Thunderstorms without agency

Thunderstorms without ‘Shoulds’

Samsaric thunderstorms

Wordless thunderstorms

Nihilistic thunderstorms

Loving thunderstorms

Thunderstorms which know that life equals death

Thunderstorms which don’t give a single fuck about yr good night’s sleep

Thunderstorms which gunge up yr arteries

Thunderstorms which free you from yr skin

Thunderstorms of ecstacy

Thunderstorms of mental rubble




Of nothing