HEBANA MEBANA

MZ

when I speak in Lyrical toung
I spin storys not yet begun
some are new or is it old
try do what you’ve been
told, ————————
screech and scratch, like
a cottage roofed by thatch.
————————————
————————————
————
an itch that spreads like
butter on my leg n
moving north to my
Dench teeth abduction by
——— the un cooth

OP


under the ocean things can shudder sometimes,
and crack, did you know?

Trust me, I do, and be sent apart, and
shatter, and split, even though they are
iridescent, and smooth and nimble

there are, also, I think, waterfalls under the
ocean;

a grain of sand, having many surfaces, reflects
light both this way and that, and this! and that!
way too!
and has meanwhile the vanishing point of
impossible masses in its ridiculous hidden
centre, or, maybe, I imagine, maybe
it doesn’t.

If the cuttlefish, the sea slug and the barely existent plankton, all of whom have tea and
biscuits at four and then kill each other - if they
don’t care, then, I don’t imagine you should either.

TD


salute the gate as the sky
clears your brow

Does that w?isp of
a cloud tell you —
————— to
drag your feet?

tickled by the storm and the way
flies tread on pages
so careful
itching to point out
the flaws and how
best to wipe up
the spilt and the stains
———————————
rumbling strain secretes a honey
that anoints trembling palms

\ all to endure the
finer threads, the
bringers of long days

and fuller evenings
calculate the trickles and it will
give you the form.

HM


Drowned and dangled in ash, white
a stone.
Dressed ready to pour the inches around
the shoulders globed and ankles
pricking eyes dry from so much
liquid.
Run out of soap.
Cleaning the branches. Snow for
Sheep to tread lightly on
and cheese for rich men to
gauge on in marble kitchens
with digital flames warming
the glass and their bones.
My thoughts in your minds.

MSM


SUGAR BUGGER

HE CAME HE SORE A CONKER
NOT SOME PONCE, NO PLONKER
JUST A PLAN OF MAN SPLAYED
PUT PAID TO MY RUBBER MISCHIEF

THE MUSIC DOESN’T ALWAYS HAVE
TO MEAN THERE’S PORTENT IN
PLANT POTS AND HEAVY TOPS —
SO STOP AND HAVE A WEE PIDDLY
STROP

COP A FEEL OF SOMETHING BLUE
AN’ AIRY FROM ME THE
SUGAR BUGGER ( BUT LET
ME TELL YA KIDDA, IT’LL NOT
BE TIDY).

LM


—————————

stones in a stream
ripples kaleidoscopic
time, identity is the breath
that breaks
a cascade collapses
evening. The discontented moon
strangles the wind,
a scarf that billows
refracted echoes, she is jealous
of your name, the shape
of your lips birthing
your hello. She talks and takes —
the furnishing is gone, the lampposts missing
their light, the shape
of your face
in the mirror. Tonight she wears
your dreaming

ME


The little girl
on the plane /

who turned off
her dolls head around /
to look at me

/
J D SALINGER

DG


GANGRENE, ICE CREAM
CHLOROPHORM DAWN.
NO? YOU CRY? NARR,
HERE, FUCKING GO.
CREEPING, CREEPING ROUND THE CLOISTERS OF YOUR MIND.
YOU’LL FIND ME
DANCING ON YOUR CORTEX, STAMPING ON MY VORTEX.
CAN YOU HEAR ME LAUGHING?
HAR
FUCKIN
HAR, ——————
I’LL DISMEMBER YOUR SANITY AND KEEP IT IN JAR
DAR
LING YOU DESERVE THIS
AND I DESERVE SOME FUN
TURN YOUR THOUGHTS TO A FAIRGROUND AND NOT STOP UNTIL I’M DONE
SPINNING GRINNING, TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH?
I’LL KEEP USING YOUR TOKENS TILL YOU VOMIT
SMASHING, GROMIT.
YOU’RE PLASTICINE. —————
I’LL INFECT YOUR DREAMS

VLA


Door Open
Flesh Crawling
Your Hand
My Knife
Curtain Closing
Shadows Calling
GLASS BREAKING
Iced Spine
Coming Closer
You Smile
I … Die

BC


A feeling of nostalgia,
A man who has nothing left,
tip toeing down the marble steps,
His sins lay clearly on his
mind.
a thunder and screech as
the devil taps ones shoulder,
and so this his guardian
angel weeps forever - more,
what a chaotic mess
yet light pours into his
eyes,
and is forgiven for his
ways.
As he takes his last breath.

JS


MARTIAN MAN WONDERS
WHY HE IS HERE,
IS IT FEAR THAT STOPS
HIM HAVING THAT BEER?
WHY IS HE HERE?

SILLY MARTIAN MAN!
HAVE NO FEAR!

I ONLY POISONED
THAT BEER!

BC