Void Voices is out with Hesterglock Press on Monday 15th October.
Void Voices is a nightmare in 34 parts.
Void Voices is a fly-blown cacophony.
Void Voices is a love letter from a cyborg.
Void Voices is a nasty feast.
Void Voices is salt on a slug,
Void Voices is a black and red machine that overwrites your memories.
Void Voices is a dumping ground for defective literary devices and other amusements.
Void Voices is a white silhouette on a white background.
Void Voices is a thorn in your eye.
Void Voices is a communion with an undead poet.
Void Voices is a symphony for violins, down-tuned electric guitars, broken synthesisers and wolves.
Void Voices is a glitch in Donald Trump’s face.
Void Voices is an advert for the life you already lead.
Void Voices is a flooded utopia.
Void Voices is a song inside a song.
Void Voices is the Bird King’s doppelgänger.
Void Voices is damp laughter.
Void Voices is #EndTimesPizza
Brexit Fable 1
Mr Cthulhu: Who here wants tentacles? Much better than human limbs.
Sleepwalkers: We do! Gimme tentacles!
Mr Cthulhu eviscerates them
Sleepwalkers: WTF! Our guts are hanging out!
Mr Cthulhu: Nah, that’s tentacles.
Sleepwalkers die in agony
Brexit Fable 2
Taxi Driver: Where to?
Passenger: Paradise, mate.
Driver: This YouTube video shows that Paradise is actually Hell. Stay put?
Passenger: Just take me to Paradise.
Driver: But you’ll burn forever.
Passenger: DON’T CARE. TAKE ME TO PARADISE!
Brexit Fable 3
Mr Phuq: Let’s build a house together! I’ve got enough bricks for a wall.
The people: Yes, let’s!
Mr Phuq: I feel stifled by this house you’ve subjected me to. I’m off.
Mr Phuq removes his wall & uses the bricks to build himself a kennel.
Brexit Fable 4
The Bird King: You should stab yourself in the face with these scissors.
The Bird King: To show the “experts” who’s boss! The experts who tell you that stabbing yourself in the face with these scissors will harm you. Be a man!
Bloke: Oh, Ok then.
Brexit Fable 5
Goat Man: Yay! Let’s eat this beef. ALL OF IT!
Sheep Boy: Ok. Hang on, it looks kinda rank. Is it supposed to be green? Also, it stinks.
Goat Man: We said we’d eat it, so we’ll eat it.
Sheep Boy: OK.
They devour the rotten meat and die in agony.
Brexit Fable 6
Maggot: We must push our planet out of the sun’s orbit if we are to free ourselves of its bureaucratic, unelected tyranny!
Masses: YES! Deep Space, not Deep State!
One: Won’t that destroy life on earth?
Maggot: Your point is…?
One: Nothing. Let’s do it!
Brexit Fable 7
Imbecile: Hey, who wants to shoot themselves in the face?
52%: WE DO!
Imbecile: Great! That means you all have to, btw.
52%: Pass me the gun!
Brexit Fable 8
Fucker: Hey, if you eat this tablet I’ll plant a money tree in your garden.
Credulous bloke: Oh, OK. What’s in the tablet, btw?
Fucker: Don’t worry about it. Cyanide. Nothing much.
Credulous bloke: I like money trees. (Eats cyanide pill.)
let me be clear BrickShit means BrickShit means BrickShit means BrickShit bra-caaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww
well um I couldn’t possibly piffle and wotsit and so on and so forth and letterboxes and piles of piffle and wotsit and what-not and so on and so forth a jolly good future leader future Pimm’s o’clock and what-not Prime o’clock piffle Minister and so forth
a return to the perfectly simple arrangements made during the Troubles whereby divisions were maintained exacerbated inflamed and security forces were able to carry out their very simple duties such as exchanging gunfire suppressing riots disposing of bombs all perfectly simple and sensible
and there was a kid there a fifteen-year-old with a generic Ramones t-shirt you know the one the one they all wear nowadays the generic one with white on black and the circle and crest the Ramones t-shirt you’ve seen a million times on kids everywhere they’re all wearing the same one from Primark or Tesco or wherever no bloody imagination the same Ramones t-shirt and of course none of them even like the Ramones probably none of them have even heard of the Ramones let alone bought their albums gone to their gigs they’ve all trotted off to Primark or Tesco and bought the same fucking Ramones t-shirt without knowing the first thing about the Ramones and what they stood for without knowing the first thing about punk rock these kids shuffling around in generic Ramones t-shirts they got from supermarkets or their mums got them from supermarkets when they don’t know the story behind the t-shirt don’t know the story of the band or the music Christ they’d have a heart attack if they heard the music they have no idea it’s not exactly Justin Bieber is it not exactly Taylor fucking Swift they have no idea what the Ramones represent the music they made what the music meant it’s like when everyone was running around in colourful Che Guevara t-shirts remember that everyone was running around in Che Guevara t-shirts grown men and women not just kids though admittedly it was mostly the young crowd that were into it running around in their generic Che Guevara t-shirts they’d bought in The Gap or Next or Top Shop or wherever thinking it was really cool not having the slightest fucking idea the tinniest fucking idea who the fuck Che Guevara was or what the fuck he stood for it wasn’t like everyone was suddenly reading Trotsky and plotting the overthrow of the bourgeoisie far from it they were nipping into Starbucks in their Che Guevara t-shirts and slurping lattes before sauntering down to House of Fraser and Debenhams and buying overpriced home furnishings not a thought for the oppressed masses the needy the disadvantaged Che Guevara meant nothing to them his image was just cool they probably didn’t even know his fucking name or if they did they had some dim feeling that he may have been a screen icon after all wasn’t he in that film what was it you know the one about touring South America on a motorbike what a cool thing to do that’s all his face meant to them cool just cool nothing else there was no other story behind it and they didn’t crave another story the one the fashion retailers had sold them was fine Che Guevara was cool as fuck and now his face had been co-opted by capitalism any alternative to that economic system was unthinkable the bourgeoisie had won and it’s the same now exactly the same now with the Ramones it’s like punk never happened everything is just image and entertainment
are you having a fucking laugh the Ramones were not entertainment punk was not an image it was an attitude a lifestyle a revolt against the social cultural political economic musical status quo the Sex Pistols had everyone in the Establishment shitting themselves they nearly brought down the monarchy they pissed all over the economy they destroyed the UK Top 40 and nothing was the same ever again are you fucking joking a Sex Pistols t-shirt is a symbol of insurrection a Ramones t-shirt is a symbol of insurrection everyone should be shitting themselves when someone comes down the street in a Ramones t-shirt are you trying to wind me up they weren’t just a band it wasn’t just music they destroyed everything that had gone before their first album killed half the people that heard it the songs were like poison to the old farts thousands were admitted to hospitals across the USA and Britain complaining of extreme nausea and existential dread so don’t tell me it was just music it was a revolution and these fucking kids today should leave it alone it’s not theirs it’s mine it’s ours it means nothing to them why do they even think Ramones t-shirts are cool they were never meant to be cool they were meant to be dangerous they think their generic Ramones t-shirts are cool because they’re told to think that by their corporate masters at Primark and Tesco the white on black the circle and crest have been neutered punk’s been neutered it’s had its bollocks chopped off punk’s bollocks were chopped off in a boardroom but never mind the bollocks here’s a generic t-shirt
Already made of blood largely of blood more blood than imagination desire ambition conscience memory
I am a readymade in red
In a sequestered corner of the gallery (Do not touch)
Wet, salty, warm
Don’t hold up a mirror to my shameful shapeless face
I’ll probably faint
When I was nine years old I passed out at school
Because of words:
and dashed their brains out on the rocks
Words have held horrors for me ever since
I worry that people will say brains, stab and most of all blood
These words can flip my switch, trip me, slip me over into nothing
Most of all blood
Bl spews from the tongue, ood lands heavily
A corpse sound
My favourite Shakespeare play is Macbeth
I don’t like seeing what I’m made of
Or thinking about it
I remade myself in teeth / out of teeth / from teeth / my teeth / who else’s / they were mine / my dental record was unique / my dental record was my blueprint / you could make me / fake me / bake me / delicious / from just that / just that dental record / worse than DNA / a worse betrayal than DNA / so I remade myself using my teeth as the sole medium / I was a self-sculptor / a red-handed god / a slave to myself / it took ages / the teeth didn’t always want to stick together / the teeth didn’t ever want to do anything / sometimes resisting / sometimes falling for gravity / falling to the floor / enamoured of the ground / grinding themselves into the ground / grinding teeth / grounded teeth / still I persisted / I fought on / clacking teeth together like sharp white Lego / never letting go of the picture lodged behind my eyes / my selfie / my self image / my imagined self / left foot bigger than right / handsome-ugly asymmetrical face / lower right jaw down and out / in surrealist Paris and hot hell London / hands gesturing grandiloquently / signifying nothing / man-chest / boy-arms / I didn’t dare give myself a cock / let alone a dick / a willy / a penis / a manhood / anything short of hyperbole would have been risible
My off-white near-totality
Needed a good brush
I hadn’t flossed in years
(The lies with which I have plied my smiling dentist!)
But it was good enough for now
Nearly good enough
a cloud of tiny water droplets suspended in the atmosphere
a cloud of tiny teeth suspended in the atmosphere
a cloud of white blood cells suspended in the atmosphere
a cloud of neurones suspended in the atmosphere
a cloud of thoughts suspended in the atmosphere
clouded thoughts suspended in the left hemisphere
crowded thoughts upended in the right hemisphere
rowdy thoughts ended in the noosphere
randy thoughts in bed
rancid doubts embedded
nom nom meth
stock characters at best
sick characters in vests
slick characters undressed
Cyrillic characters going to press
lyric characters flowing East to West
lyric poems feverish with beasts and nests
lyric poems feverish with ceasefires and peaceful tears
ridiculous poems farting yeast and treacle years
ridiculous thoughts imparting blighted bleak creaking fears
cribbed thoughts impounded in the tight biosphere
crow thoughts upended in the right hemisphere
clouded thoughts dead-ended in the left hemisphere
a cloud of thoughts depending on the atmosphere
a crown of thorns descending on the lost seer
a cloud of neurones ending in beer
a cloud of white blood cells suspected of murder
a cloud of white teeth suspended in the mouth
a crowd of witches suspended in the moon
a can of worms suspended in your room
a can-can kicking rage
a clown kicking against age
a cloud of words on the page
a blank page
a blank face
a bank phase
a banned phrase
a bad phrase