Monthly Archives: April 2005
Insecurities are a pulse that proves existence
The dead love you
You see a boy get knocked off his bike. He dies in your arms. The accident wasn’t your fault. You can’t explain what happens afterward. The dead are visiting the living. The dead love the living. Even if they don’t love you. They want to cling on. Take an influence in your life. Complete the trials of their earthly life, or repeat challenges that they believe they have failed. And one of them wants you, innocent you, who held him as he died.
“Remember me?”
Surprised, I turned around, and saw my reflection beckoning from the mirror into which I”d just stared. The eyes were more red than a moment ago, and it seemed as if my reflection had suffered even less sleep than I had recently. But this wasn’t really much of a concern, and as my eyes made contact with themselves my legs made it clear that they wanted no part in this reunion.
“You can’t reun, you know. How can you possibly avoid your own reflection?”
Dogs worry sheep by telling them that the grass is stale
It was saturday morning, and once again the kids were playing with the gas mains. Mother was out, shopping, whilst father had only just returned from a busy night at the pub. Martin and Jerry sat in the basement cellar, with only a torch to guide them, and attempted once again the connection to the meter. It was no good. Either the meter would require a hole, or the pipe would have to be ruptured. A tough choice, but they knew that really it was no choice at all. One swift blow with the axe, and the gas would be able to fill the space. The brothers were excited.
A poem I found, written by my friend Si. Reproduced without his permission in case it provokes him into getting into contact. Bwa ha ha.
My docs
My docs were too tight.
I bought them last week
and thought they were right.
But I had to stand less
‘Cos when I tried walking
I felt my toes press
Up hard at the end.
They’d have to break in
Or buckle or bend
I kidded myself.
Those doc’s were too small
They were bad for my health.
So I took a sharp knife
And cut off my toes.
My docs feel alright
But my feet are killing me.
November 1995
Woo hoo! I’m off to Utrecht! I shall have to make a film about it…
self awareness
strip away
the skin and fat
inside, you’ll see
I’m still a twat