Friday, 30 July 2010

Lord Knows

Bricks tied to your
Ankles tongue

Pulled out eyeballs
In some tramp's coat

Pocket kidney's sold
To a millionaire

Your left ear's a keyring
Stray dogs chew the fingers

Cut by pliers
Brain in brine

They dipped your penis
In gold and

Threw your balls
To Trafalgar Square

On a Saturday

Wednesday, 28 July 2010

Breakfast on Blvd Haussman

I just stopped by Marcel's
For a chat
Over oeufs
à la creme
And croissants

Comme d'habitude
He ate in bed
And didn't get up

His servante let me out
When he gave in to
Relentless fatigue

I can see his curtains
From a bench
In Square Louis XVI

Where Marcel and I
Used to smoke

Tuesday, 27 July 2010

Flying Colours

This été
Was well managed
A decent mood

The atmosphere
Kept constant

My last shot

The 20's
Ended heir
In your city

And with these notes
Scribbled on
Familiar rue's

Thank you

Monday, 26 July 2010

Dog House

Temporary lovers sneered at my past

They poked fun
Pissed on my merits
My distinctions

It is only what they were used to
That their judgement was measured

Those bare women
Laughed when another gave me
A number

They spat when they
Smelt other perfumes
On the bedsheets

They deleted my texts
Threw their poems out

The window when it was
Wet and windy

Gave my albums away
To charity
Pretended they didn't smear
Their lipstick on
My stick

Acted like they never
Danced with me and learnt
Fuck all 'bout movies and food

As if I didn't exist

Thursday, 22 July 2010


Note = Read this out loud G.S

Think and drink
Pour, sip, refill

Frozen water
Clink glass stained lung
Spit out
Bathroom sink
Vomit crusted bowl

Rinse, gargle, pink
Veins in the whites
Of your eyes
One other kink
You stopped popping gink o
Biloba and got pissed at the ice rink
She slid over
Our blades clinked
High C
Cutting the sleeve
Of her shrink mothers mink

Just a thin slice
Open on her arm
Weeping warm zinc

That's the link
In my ink

Sunday, 18 July 2010

Wax Fruit Pool Party

Blow jobbing bimbos
Arrive once the topless DJ
Throws worrying shapes
From his poolside pulpit

Sunday afternoon
In Geneva and this fuck is mixing
As if he's on a Spanish Island
At climax

No one here is pilling or buzzed
Yet he dances to the soundtrack
As we drink kirs à la pêche

There's a tempting fruit bowl
On the table next to popcorn
Salad leaves and Ice Tea

Girls of all ages and women
Change into swimwear and I
Eat seedless grapes

T-shirtless dudes with tanned abs
And low body fat
Throw frisbees and push each other
Into the cool pool

Before the Dick Jockey plays
His next mistake
A grape from my hand
Hits the back of his throat
And the arms he waved to tunes
As he tries to cough
It out

The song ends
And another one doesn't start
'till another amateur sunkissed
Brainless DJ takes over

Saturday, 17 July 2010

Vagina Mind

On $ale at 9 a.m tomorrow
Tickets for Vagina Mind's
Spectacular magical
Wet walls

Circus blood

Also featuring : The invisible clitoris,
Hidden orgasms and
Titties bigger than beanbags

Roll up
Roll up

Get your gold ticket
To Bartholin's glands river

Play in the Pubic Jardin

Throw hoops at the hood
And win cash prizes

The Vagina Mind
Running for one week only

Thursday, 15 July 2010

For Nate

Your name is Nathaniel and in twenty
You'll be shaving and dicking women

At house parties you'll start conversations
And stay awake 'till the end
Strangers will warm to you

Nathaniel, you'll be raised
In harmonious settings
And be educated in language

You'll cook and box
Give spare time to charities
And help your grandparents
With the herb garden

Your body will be shaped
By vitamins, a variated diet
And a refusal of the three sins:
Class A's, booze and fags

Your name is Nathaniel
And I'm the one
Who gave you life

Wednesday, 14 July 2010

Dinner Time

Here the lapin jumps over
Pots of boiling vegetables

Bites a vein on a chef's arm
And darts through the service door

He pisses on a waiter's shoe
And passes sous la table
Where the president enjoys tête de veau

This skinned rabbit
Looks up the first lady's skirt
While nibbling at crumbs

Some customers who've finished their coffee
And paid l'addition
Get up from their seats

And the man who trades as a lawyer
But paints his dead daughters portrait
Each week
Holds the door
For those he's just lunched with

The cold rabbit surges out the door
Onto Rue de Beaujolais and joins

A dozen snails, half a cow's head
And several frogs on their way
To a safe haven

Tuesday, 13 July 2010


White and sandaled
Some Greek treasure
Not yet

Picked and pruned
Still to be

That'll come enough
To be called

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

When you least expect it

It can come any time
A hot iron up the ass
A belly stuffed of Lamprey’s

Ruptured bladder
A fuck up transfusion
A tennis ball

Poison poured in the ear
A chicken
Before the juices run clear

Getting lost in a forest
Unearthed microphones

Watch yourself
It can come at any time

Monday, 5 July 2010

Young 'un

Mothers salt and foremilk
The first born boy

Cartilige and membranes
Form and glue
In nature's

Sunday, 4 July 2010

The crosseyed flamenco guitarist Vargas
Only picked the thing up and sang
After fighting
With his Gitano girlfriend

These women know how to
What to cut with

They read Lorca's Romancero Gitano
They bite and squeese

As Vargas tried to play the fandango
She'd tap a Zambra
And throw roasted corn
At his strings

Saturday, 3 July 2010

La mañana

Mornings in Spain are good for empty headed men with notebooks.

With a chocolate milk cure
and a smoke
On Calle de Atocha

This polka dot dress belleza
Eyed me at the parada
De autobús

She walked over and asked
For one

I pulled out the pack
Dropped my pen
Then my sunglasses

And mentioned
'No habla Español'

She lit and with ease
And that dress she smiled
and said
'Enjoy your breakfast.'

I did.

Friday, 2 July 2010

Is it?

Written a few weeks ago in Parque del Buen Retiro: "The lungs of Madrid".

A capital bear chasing a fish
Giant fingernails and a waistcoat
A beer glass
Toilet roll

Mickey Mouse eating a banana
A miami wig
Ice cubes

A heeled shoe
An oven glove
Pig's legs
A lunch tongue

Sesos with teethmarks
Decapitated cabeza's
A bottom lip
Three tits

A baseball bat
A sausage gun
A hand with three digits

Thursday, 1 July 2010

Such As

Dedicated to you know who

Nature has a dumb gift
But suceeds in dissolute beauties
Such as you

Chemistry of mind and body
Baffle this battered
and bewildered

Prick with a pen