'appy 'appy 'appy :)
La Sortie
Parachute! Parachute!
Time to, time to act!
Let the upright nanny come and she can take me back.
Don’t find kites amusing, just an escape route
Fire exits: not a last resort, but a way to commute.
Take note of every trapdoor, bookcase hides the stairs,
Pull out those dusty pages and see you in the Spring.
Hibernation with a back door, sleep with a sling
Shot.
Glass revolving door:
Oh you pretty, pretty, pretty, thing
A toy for a table top,
But no good for a flight risk, no, no good at all.
So eject button, taxi, and the elevator shaft!
Take me here, take me anywhere,
Let me steal a car.
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
Monday, 19 April 2010
drei.
And now for something completely different. Some very strange sensations doing the rounds por lo momento. It's all very new. I'm not sure I deserve this brand of technicolour, and I'm not sure it's reciprocated...in fact I'm sure it's not. I wonder how many times 'sure' is used with 'not'. I wish I could be wrapped up by a stork and carried away to a clearer time c:
On fire today. throwing up more volcanic ash than ANYONE can:
This time the atlas is pressing on my back;
Each vertebra is prone to moan.
A prehistoric spine, primeval telephone pole,
Fold down the glossiest pages:
I haven’t been anywhere and
I don’t know where to go.
These dog-ears tell you so.
Cartographers tyrannise with their contour line lassoes
Trapped inside them when the landscape no longer matches
Anything.
And we want new landscapes
We want the sea on the ceiling and sand between our teeth
A monsoon in the desert and a deckchair on the reef.
Allow us to breathe in that rebellious air and travel the anarchic waves
Watch us walk, almost twenty, to the sea with buckets and spades.
Give us our Jupiter drops and Arctic shots,
Wave a white cloth and see us off.
AND AND:
(inspired by my second favourite scandanavian export, Ikea...first favourite kopparberg, third naturally abba)
That Swedish flat pack furniture will be
The blue print of
How we lived our lives from A to B.
good grief. good god, mercy me
we’re made to order from ads on tv.
We need blankets with sleeves
No one keeps us warm
The only way we get dates
Is by using chloroform.
And it’s a good thing our telephones are becoming our limbs
We can’t walk anyway because we’re too engorged
That didn’t rhyme
See what I mean
Discord
Disjointed
Dis dis dis
So much worse than any other prefix.
We get by, we’ll get by in our thimble boats
And match stick oars
Maybe we should just revert
To walking on all fours…
On fire today. throwing up more volcanic ash than ANYONE can:
This time the atlas is pressing on my back;
Each vertebra is prone to moan.
A prehistoric spine, primeval telephone pole,
Fold down the glossiest pages:
I haven’t been anywhere and
I don’t know where to go.
These dog-ears tell you so.
Cartographers tyrannise with their contour line lassoes
Trapped inside them when the landscape no longer matches
Anything.
And we want new landscapes
We want the sea on the ceiling and sand between our teeth
A monsoon in the desert and a deckchair on the reef.
Allow us to breathe in that rebellious air and travel the anarchic waves
Watch us walk, almost twenty, to the sea with buckets and spades.
Give us our Jupiter drops and Arctic shots,
Wave a white cloth and see us off.
AND AND:
(inspired by my second favourite scandanavian export, Ikea...first favourite kopparberg, third naturally abba)
That Swedish flat pack furniture will be
The blue print of
How we lived our lives from A to B.
good grief. good god, mercy me
we’re made to order from ads on tv.
We need blankets with sleeves
No one keeps us warm
The only way we get dates
Is by using chloroform.
And it’s a good thing our telephones are becoming our limbs
We can’t walk anyway because we’re too engorged
That didn’t rhyme
See what I mean
Discord
Disjointed
Dis dis dis
So much worse than any other prefix.
We get by, we’ll get by in our thimble boats
And match stick oars
Maybe we should just revert
To walking on all fours…
deux.
15 minutes well spent
or spent minutes for nothing
who knows :)
Lazarus Love
Handlebars are monkey bars
When nails are bitten and sighs heaved fit for
Romantics and drunks and travellers and liars.
The road wants soles not souls, not tears but tyres.
So hang off your handlebars and keep starting fires
And strip the plastic off milk vans and buses
Like industrial dancers, vehicles shedding skeins of bruising.
Tarmac is wine dark but it is not the sea, it is so much the shore,
The Rubicon cannot bisect it, but a cheekbone can.
And there’s the rub, the friction, the smashing plate tectonics:
A clavicle and a hip are junctions of destruction.
Amateur, amateur, amateur cartography combustion
We sit with our steering wheels, lives full of punctures.
Ballard says we can marry technology,
But I just want a home that’s homely.
Frankenstein has raised tradition from the dead
A Lazarus love, plus bandages, plus baggage
Plus barely know each other.
or spent minutes for nothing
who knows :)
Lazarus Love
Handlebars are monkey bars
When nails are bitten and sighs heaved fit for
Romantics and drunks and travellers and liars.
The road wants soles not souls, not tears but tyres.
So hang off your handlebars and keep starting fires
And strip the plastic off milk vans and buses
Like industrial dancers, vehicles shedding skeins of bruising.
Tarmac is wine dark but it is not the sea, it is so much the shore,
The Rubicon cannot bisect it, but a cheekbone can.
And there’s the rub, the friction, the smashing plate tectonics:
A clavicle and a hip are junctions of destruction.
Amateur, amateur, amateur cartography combustion
We sit with our steering wheels, lives full of punctures.
Ballard says we can marry technology,
But I just want a home that’s homely.
Frankenstein has raised tradition from the dead
A Lazarus love, plus bandages, plus baggage
Plus barely know each other.
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