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ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL
Meditate-E.T.A,
it-dem-ension, deep
Focus, brain fuel
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| morpho-genetic |
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A CULL-AGE OF WORDS
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I’M NOT IN YOUR GANG
Are we going to put up
With U.S.A.U.K-RAIN
Double standards.
I haven’t voted in years
and still, you make me
feel dirty and corrupted.
You’re taking away my
Human rights I am not
A black op’s sabotage.
I am not in your gang,
My mother used to say
Honesty is the best policy.
Leave my policy alone please,
don’t be sleazy. I have standards
you have none, we are letting
These people drag
us through the dirt.
MICK-MUCK
For Michael
I served up
a bowl
Of bile to
my care-
Giver wheeze,
rattle
Free cool,
he said
as only a
caregiver would.
My air
waves hadn’t been
That free in
twenty years.
No wonder I
was turning
Muck to gold,
I was carrying
Around that
muck for 20-
Years. I wheezed
words out
And rattled
down my food
chocking
everyday making
me sick. I told
them for years
that I couldn’t get it up, only
now am I on
their script.
morpho-
FIRST AND
LAST
My room
smelt like
a Maternity
ward
Infantile
blues woke
up this
morning with
dummy-tit
trans-
parency bard-o.
Sucking up
to no-one
but me to
be woke up
with a
childhood rattle-
beat rattling
like death
in my
throat.
VICE-
This is
getting out of the big hands
Of 20:20,
am I being hacked like Liz?
I have not
a thing to hide, poetry like
Sunshine is
free, I’ve got the infan-
Tile blues a
wee man syndrome.
Nonchalantly
I lie here bedbound like
A shadow of
my former SELf self.
A lower
case of being but being BIG
AND BOLD,
my words will follow me
Under ground
or vice-versa. Gripped
By the
divided mind over matter.
This is all
that matters, locked-in
@21:12.
