Talkin' 'Bout My Generation
these days i get me pills from the NHS
these days i play it loud 'cos i'm going deaf
these days i gob 'cos of too much phlegm
these days i fall over 'cos me knees give way
these days i dye me hair to hide the grey
these days will soon come to an end
f-f-f-f-fucking amen
Trapped in Kathy Acker's Blood and Guts
so there i was imagining
kathy acker's gash
but once inside i got lost
without a torch
i slipped on the darkness
almost drowned in sylvia plath's
menstrual blood
but i clambered onto a clot
found an ariel
and managed to send out
morse code messages
using emily dickinson's dots and dashes
i went with the flow
eventually seeing the light of day
there was stevie smith
standing on the top of
kathy's white thighs waving
i knew that i was saved
but i don't think i'll be imagining
kathy acker's gash again
T.V. Fix
unfolding a wrap is like getting a love letter
it says i miss you and drools sexuality
even in the geometrically correct
corners where we serenade with spoons
then there's the penetration
we become sunshine
only to absorb the hit watching
a tv game show who wants to be a junkie?
confusing glowing with happiness
but i'm not taking any cut chances
i can double my prize fund with a special
bonus question
where's the next hit coming from?
wearing his very best television
smile the host watches
a bead of sweat
escape from the gulag of my upper lip
can i phone a dealer?
so he hands me the receiver
get a score sorted in under thirty seconds
never known an audience of de-culture
savages to roar so loud
screaming methadone baby jesus and buzz
lightyear
discuss
through the medium of modern dance
my next hit presently being cooked by the cripple
inside me convexly conversing
with the bones of dead warriors
who also wondered
what's the point of it all
and for whom the last question was
where's the next hit coming from?
The Lion Sleeps Tonight
sitting in the original acid house jungle
baloo opened his book written thousands
of years before by some monkeys who
had found a typewriter
by the chill-out tree a snake
offered him a granny smith's apple
but baloo was tripping and had
grossed out on mr kipling's exceedingly
good cakes
do you know where you are boy
said the snake
you're in the jungle
baby
yes i know replied baloo
the psychedelic jungle
and returned to reading
a story of a danish prince