25 May
CHEMICALIA by Michelle Connolly
03 May 2009 at 15:42
“Mum, can I die please?” Is all she can say; she’s Benedrine-laced
A perfect thought from a hypnotist that ought to save her defaced
With blue misery she prostrates before the porno
‘Want it like that again baby?’ She said she swore no
“Burn me in some see-thru crematorium; you’ll see what will flame faster
After that in memoriam you can erect some altar from alabaster
And use it as an ashtray, decorate it with stubbed Golden Vag and consecrate it please
With empty ‘I love you’s, photos of my faded tattoos
And my shitty drawing of poor Kitty Genovese”
A perfect thought from a hypnotist that ought to save her defaced
With blue misery she prostrates before the porno
‘Want it like that again baby?’ She said she swore no
“Burn me in some see-thru crematorium; you’ll see what will flame faster
After that in memoriam you can erect some altar from alabaster
And use it as an ashtray, decorate it with stubbed Golden Vag and consecrate it please
With empty ‘I love you’s, photos of my faded tattoos
And my shitty drawing of poor Kitty Genovese”
14 Jan
THE DAY WHEN UNCLE WROTE THE DREAM
In my book I wrote a dream
that grew, projected on a screen
I dipped my brush in ink and drew
a little world, in green and blue.
I wrote a song for them to sing
in counterpoint, my men of string
with matchstick oars: they kept the time
in animation, line by line.
I salvaged them a land of gold
near-mint / as-new / as good as sold
(I built their country out of stones
upon a bed of tiny bones).
I taught them life! I gave them laws!
and in each headpiece – filled with straw –
I moulded minds out of the air
to bear a little thought, and prayer.
Again! I stabbed my pen and drew
banners of crimson streams and blue.
I flagged the trails. I ground the rocks
to clad the skyline building blocks
(for nephews, nieces, ever green,
who pledged allegiance to the screen)
The coins that in my pockets rolled
flattened their eyes and arched their souls:
the metal slid through slots of steel
to drive the motors and the wheels
which raised the towering walls of light
(to seize the day and free the night)
with tangled wires
I dammed the flood
of fear which shook my flesh and blood –
my nephews, nieces, ever green,
who lived to polish the machine;
to raise the stakes, insure the gain,
revere the lady with the flame
(that matchbox emblem “LIBERTY”
from antique realms across the sea) –
the lights went down.
I almost laughed
till canvas sank across my path
the colours ran corroding through
the frame that sheared the strings in two
the counterpoint became a shout
as shining cogs exploded out
destroyed the pristine marble floor
laid bare my world’s vibrating core
a howling cistern filled with flies
the blackened lungs the sunken eyes
choked out – at once – a thousand cries.
Yet, still the author of their trust,
on silent blanket plains of dust,
with heavy lids I faced the night
and, with my tears, began to write.
11/9/02
14 Dec
FOR MNH (after SPiRiTUAL SANTAE)
it’s four in the morning
lest it fall, let it
fall to
rest
let it fall
then to
rest
as & when
it falls
28 Nov
ALPHA SHALLOWS
Laura Marling, Scala, Kings Cross.
Text message, never sent: “The atmos here is incredible. Wish you were here to feel it. The support were stunning- packed out crowd gave enormous applause for songs’ first airings. Now waiting for Marling to take the stage”
And when she did, the “atmos” was such that my addled mind was exhausted of superlatives and eventually decided it best to switch off all phoney & photographic gadgets, and just to stand at the back and soak it all up.
I did get the video clip, though.
