I like to wind god up

Confusion will gather pace during 2007, antics and fun will multiply, happiness and sorrow shall sharper be. We will lose loved ones to the Shadow, shadow will cast over us all. Ultimate folly will reap the wind and rain and men and women will laugh at the raw power of nature. Chaos and carnage we implore your dear ministrations. Full frenzy speeds the time of our lives to many blue and briney graves. Yes I will die or sneeze at a cold I catch from near passings. Full force of infernal blasts descend on the planet as the race rocks from folly to fierce burning. Party on to bitter and wild rampant currents among our days, thoughts of the dead and obsessions of the living stir the ruined souls of all people. At last we know our equality, each will die knowing the revelation belongs to all people. Get mad! Get even! Get stoned! Yaaahwhoooo...

HD madly truly deeply

I greet you from moments following a great family party (where I spoke my dismay at the death of Saddam) - a clan from Yorkshire and one from Devon met not minutes ago in Bristol UK. It was clever how we catered without difficulty and drank our fill while making contact with relatives whom we had not seen for 20 years. While sitting yards apart, the furthest clan members did not speak ( I use 'clan' loosely ). I remarked of the energies of the north and the south and we had good times no bad. I sit here with the bitter smell of sodden animal bedding, a beer and a stop smoking aid happy at how my kinfolk had left. Party on dudes and land on all fours in 2007!

HD

Please let Saddam give Bush and Blair the bird from the gibbet on that Iraqui dawn! Please father on high don't let our leaders get fucked over like they fucked you over. Those smug sons of bitches - may they rot in Bermuda while toasting democracy with pina coladas. Fuck the murderous christians - please lord satan let death and chaos follow the death of the father of Iraq. Destruction and chaos may save this hopeless-piece-of-shit planet - stick the western pigs in a big field and bomb the fuckers! Rise up Islam and slay those who treat you like curs! Put the veil of shame on the faces of all unholy women and children and do not let his death go unmarked. [you think I'm mad - how mad does he feel right now?].

HD

Bash your bad dub riff
Rattle petals to downtown Sally
Upward Johnny static stiff
Coolest gun that man O'Mally

Soubriquicious glum and glib
Sanding beam knot and grain
Salamander grave to crib
Vocab bend and syntax strain

Powder ton up the paper tube
Flower peace to barrel steel
O'Malley dumped the stinking pseud
For a four course restaurant meal

Fire forged the novice play
Gone by seven standing stones
Myrtle slushing on the papal sleigh
By beggars mould convenient clones.

HD

I have instant recourse to the first person singular as your spatial bookmarks let you dock in my brain. Meshed and mashed you grab the ribbon round the pole and stay with me a while. Just down a notch I ratchet the screw in your low mind, bright and gay you start to juggle the balls of the spelling machine. Dance 'cos the way is here, you got moves, you got steps. Seagull masters told me tricks the herd don't hear - I seen shit dude, an' I seen blue sky. Every essai, stakes notch up, resolution ripples through from rock to insect to creature to man to race to cosmos. Blend eeeet dude! Behave like yourself! Pure beings resonate at their pitch and their bearing is deemed such, do not fear, distribute humanity to all quarters.

Groove.

HD

A boy died tonight accidentally, which he could not have envisaged nor avoided. His name is Connor and my memory of him is fresh and warm. He was fourteen. He was a very good friend of my son. I know Connor's parents, he has 3 brothers. Cause of death still unknown, resulting from a collision between 2 off road motorcycles. His life has stopped, mine goes on and my son's and his family. I'm sorry he died, he was a nice person, his friends are nice and his family are nice. The news broke during a phone call to my son at about 3pm, the death was reported on the evening news. A friend said he went to primary school with Connor, everyone has known him since age 3. I said to my son I will go with him and lay flowers tomorrow - perhaps from sharing our disbelief we might begin to believe that he has gone.

Connor Brooks RIP

HD

Grant me leave to stroke your dazzling golden hair and give me courage to comment on your private world that you strive to believe no-one can see. I think equally the evil I see, hear and say and hear on the grapevine that you wish no harm to come to me. Your purity is ordinary while your temper is sublime! The mood I harness to your beautiful back is the sea that yields the shells from which my thoughts imbue your soul. I bark and chew on your lunal nails when anxious I call your name from the pits of Gomorra, then heh! the gibbet swings toward the east and I rise upon your shoulders to glorify the crown on top of your golden head. Least swift of all the poison of a thousand faiths - I would die the hardest from a drop of spite that fell into my mouth from the spittal of your breath - perfection quails before your beauty, dying prosaic like a shadow cast by the morning sun.

HD

Bartrum Hoarecatcher hung around Butterworth's bars like scabs on a leper. He revelled in taudry assignations that made it likely he would become revered like a god. Bartrum Hoarecatcher ate lasagne for breakfast after which he scraped his face and neck with a Bostik modelling knife. Lunch was expected to be langourous and tediously long as he chewed his meat with the rigour his mother once prescribed. She brushed her hair one hundred times a day which took only 15 minutes by Bartrum's reckoning while his meat lay wedged between his groin and her back. Bartrum despised the hoe next door because she refused the wisdom of her own counsel, demuring quite unforgivably to the counsel of her pimp. Bartrum sensed the pimp within him, cruising along Apple Alley keeping his girls sweet and policing the punters. As he brushed their hair each night, he counted langourously to a hundred before he stroked his blade across their hairless throats.

HD

"An inherent ability to perceive intuitively." AKA human being. Phenomenology - direct experience of life - Existentialism - living the direct experience of life. The End of Philosophy - Heidegger. What now? Epistemological Anarchy. "No truth shall prevail." There is: ' no truth' - it prevails. "Stop looking for answers." Progress will stop, gobsmacked by its own vanity. Ego is barren - self thinking attracts errata. By no means crucify the scientist, by all means disembowel him and read his entrails like a carnival fortune-teller. Barter with satan who is called set - the fortune of the lucky lies upon yon sandy isle, the fortune of the beggar lies close to the heart of the master. Riddle me not see hear speak rather ill wishes crack the wholeness of the heart.

HD

Troubled Water

There's been much talk of a special relationship between two of the greatest nations on earth, Podlovia and Rumplestiltshire. Their leaders, dwarves among men, mustered great armies in an assault on Midden Earth. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme were fairy advisors to Podlof and Rumple as they shared the solomn hymnsheet of Godroth. Podlof and Rumple had taken unto them the four virgin fairies and made lascivious love until the Midden collapsed at the sound of their rutting and fucking. The artful pair were drained on the eve of battle and the armies of Podlovia and Rumplestiltshire begged the fairies to rise up from Midden Earth at which the hordes, amassed upon the Midden, left for Scarborough Fair.

My Grandma

"Life's a joke, once I thought it, now I know it". Reminds of when Buddha awoke for the umpteeth time and burst out laughing - what a gas! Seeing THAT for the first time, yeh there was a time when it was the solemn Buddha for me, now I'm kinda friends with Laughing Boy. In the cosmos there is immense hilarity not to mention utter fucking disbelief - "He said WHAT? Did he do THAT?" Only reason I care is because I don't give a shit. Fantasy gave us gods and Eccles cakes, flies' graveyards, to understand which needs an induction in English patisserie. (A contradiction in terms). Or do you fancy languid wafers stuffed with congealed whippy mousse? (usually pink or yellow). If ure patriotic, forgive me (I forgive you) and I proceed to eulogise moist fruit cake, cream doughnuts and Battenburg. My Gran prepared sumptious Sunday Teas (ahead of the Sunday service) - she died, unfortunately, but her memory endures in my heart - thank you Gran for making me the civilised man that I am and for making me believe that some asshole got crucified for always looking on the bright side of life. Da dum da dum.

I look at people ( as you do ) in some 'situation' ( I don't understand situational analysis) and I 'see' them there with me seeing them there, thinking, 'what is the situation for you.' God sees multiple angles, like me! God might think he covers all the bases and he knows I can second guess his analyses: god comes to me for counselling! I got stoned with god and he got paranoid, I sat up with him all night - he was lucky to go to work in the morning. God's a mate but he goes on a bit and outstays his welcome at times. Once when I tripped with God he got lairy when the free festival refused him entry for pissing in the collecti on bucket. Bad god! Bad god!

Down to business - I have no business, I am striving to have no business in this world. The world has let no-one down - the world is a waste of space, the people on this planet have no reason to be here, do they give a shit? I implore the people of earth to eat to their heart's content, to heat to their heart's content, to screw their neighbour to their heart's content. I will stop caring, I have no reason to care like you. I will see the world out, I will survive in death the dissolution of our mother earth.

It doesn't hurt when I don't care, I will not hurt me - rather earth dies than I get hurt, I cared for too long and it hurt too much, let greed multiply 10 fold, let sectarian war kill millions, I am safe, my country is well defended, let tyrants torture their subjects, I do not care, I cared once but I don't care now.

Let me be rich, rather I live in comfort than stoop to the poor - let the poor be poor, it's up to them - I do not care about the poor I do not care about the weak. Spare me your wrath dumb god - I relinquish you from your duty.

The comment that became a post

"Can anyone do an impression of themselves?"

-Eugene (Big Brother 2005)

Friday, 08 December, 2006

Leave a comment - let me post it on this blog (see below)

Requiem for lost souls

Barney the bastard sneered at the unintelligent, people should have the sense to see that and that follow that, people look at me funny, they must fancy me. Why don't they understand? I've told them so many times!

Easy man, keep as cool as you can. face piles of trials with smiles, and in the end you'll stand, on the threshold of a dream.

Poor Barney, they all new his game, Barney would not let go, he had a belief that he meant something...

Poor Barney, RIP.

There never could be the perfect blog - the one bang on time, nail on the head, Pongo knew. As he waited drooling for scraps from the table, he knew, the more bread you've got the less shit you've got to eat. I love dogs personally but I can't eat a whole one. Thanks for the fish and thank you dear lord for allowing me to feed 5000 hungry souls. Amen.

My ice cream of choice

There's a party in my mind - what's that place where nothing ever happens? What happened? Help I need someone there's a disaster movie being filmed around my life and everyone's so excited about it. Nothing ever happens, nothing nada niet rien nichts not ever immer jamais -time I sparked up a spliff.

Clue: "Old school Windows"

On 't count of 100 I want you all to stand up straight and shout "Behind you", while I cook up a a vaguely interesting post. OK?

sieben und neunzig

Was denkst du von mein beruf de choix: ecrivain! Nein nein sag mir schones worten!!

Quatre-vingt seize

There is a marked frenzy going on 'out there'. I say 'out there' because I just quit the bandwagon. The Bible and other engines of prophesy carry a redoutable 'catch 22' namely all prophesy shall only be fulfilled by those who believe in it. Heh man! Fulfilled any good prophesies lately?? No mate, haven't seen a real one for donkeys years. All them hysterics 'ave gone self fulfilling now, much easier than it was when no-one could read. "Apparently there's a new planet arriving in the morning - god sent it cos his only son has got band practice at Sandhurst and won't be back for the foreseeable future (sic)." God save the queen and all who wail in her!

Scorn available at 25p per pound, discounts for over 65s.

HD

95

95 - this could end up in a blogger's feast tonight quite possibly I'll be cooking, eating and washing up - I could have gone out instead 'cept i'm unsure how that works now... yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away, tra la la..

94 - Party!

94 - I won't be around 'til 11 tonight (circa 4pm PST?) should be around 10pm GMT Saturday night except a job could come in - whatever - if ure about drop by.

93 I might cheat to make party night Friday night - will not be mentioned again, cos what the fuck anyway. Co-incidences don't happen in science, they happen to people - no-one controls my destiny, absolutely no-one. Is this connecting in the act and the breath? When I let go of the control ( a long time ago) I persisted in giving the will a name, now, it has no name. Boiiing.

I do not fear the yon nor the since, flowing without perceiving ever hence just standing here.

HD

92 I wish it wasn't Christmas - I wish it was better than Christmas - I wish it wasn't a day, I wish Christmas was every day, to-day is Christmas. I wish Christmas didn't ruin Christmas.

5 1/2 million people have to scratch their toes every day - the reason? Atheletes Foot.

Nasty smells are the latest newcomers in the weopenry of biological warfare. Top scientists have been quoted as saying "There's a crop of badduns out there." Apparently agent 112 has the potency of 1000 curry farts, while agent 7BTR makes rancid socks smell like Febreeze (comparatively).

IT Can Be Done..

91 Oh really Twit, are we to believe that respectable businessmen (masons among them) and clerics (masons among them) are actually dangerous criminals bent on mass destruction? Surely not dear boy, how the devil can such pillars of wisdom possibly stand accused of heinous crimes against humanity? I deplore the implication you are implying and I denounce all free thinkers for...er...their freedom.

Romani eunt domi.

10 away from 100 posts and it's all mine! Tell me the best bits, tell me the bits that cause bum notes. If you're watching, how about a party? Here's the scene - a room and a screen, wine, beer, water whatever, you can even smoke yourself silly (I might). Then a blog appears, slowly Twinkle Toes Twin Pie reaches for the comments button, TT comments on the blog. then suddenly a post appears... wow! it's TT's comment!! Slowly Coff Boxter reaches out - then - look! Coff Boxter's comment appears as a post. Was it a comment on TT's post/comment -??

Each post from 90 - 100 will be prefixed by ninety something - on 100 we go, eh??

HD

Get the Code and Get Listed!

I will occasionally blog with these two geezers, which inspires me to raise my game for which I am grapefruit. "Nuts whole hazelnuts!" Ooooh. Blog Dumps deserves far more attention than some other sites I know and has brought me good luck and some grapefully received kindof uplifting remarks from them namely Twit and Indigus.

HD

What exactly is metaphor anyway? Do I have a trick up my sleeve or shall I pull the wool over your eyes? When void and thing meet - kerrrrang! The realm of mental manoeuvres, the changingness and brick shit house of blank. I know! I can describe my thoughts to you! This one's amethyst, this one's peridot, this one's quartz. They mean what my boodle is meaning, but they clothe it with beauty like an emperor who only exists by virtue of his attire. And the attire only conforms to the form of the emperor-thing. This is surely deuce and die, game of the professional analyst yet not in the financial sense. Rats lurk cunningly beside the open sewer of labile libel and scirocco slander. Blowing its foetal juice past the lurking coining phrase banner, parsley sage Valentine loved the green green grass of Rome.

Excerpts

Sorry Bill for scavenging, your "Auguries" are a little dated but I picked out some verses that I like to show a few incarnates - I think how you crammed it in is pretty clever.
- HD

"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night."

- William Blake

Plunge

Far from full flight fitness last summer, Desiree McCache had her chute repacked while the birds migrated toward the South. Being assiduously danger-phobic, her partner and long time crime writer Dougie Diaper glassed the baizey sack magnifiably until he could assure his beloved Desiree that the chute would open once she pulled the chain.

Dougie persuaded Dez to plunge off although her clit was only just out of bandages (seems she picked up a cut while shaving). Dougie suggested aftershave but I wonder about his motives.. Dezzy wasn't one to let a little nick spoil her fun so off she foxtrotted, proud skydancer that she is.

Dougie counted as she planed and tumbled and paddled through the air, smiling at her pleasure-seeking, crazy passion for stunt freefall. Back on dry land, Dez pulled off her empty sack and began to gather the harness around her arm. Dougie slid across the field, camera looped around his neck.

"Dez ure a star, I really felt you might not walk away from that - thank god ure safe."

Ding Dong Merrily

Poor crones live in the canyons of Oregon, among the ascetic monks of Francis they lift their skirts. Franciscan monks don't die for free rancid sex, they embrace the mother of god for her guileless sweet virginity. They die for a guiltless god who prohibits guilt for the shame it brings on his name. The monks seek to capture their master and hold him in servitude, they are torn by the simple choice: follow the father or the son or caress the dear mother of creation.

Buying neither alcohol nor favours, the monks of Oregon court the witches of Sodom and plead with the son to loose their tongues from the groins of the crones. Yet higher in ecstatic misery with sin scratching their purified backs, the monks pledge their faith in the red city calling from beyond the canyons where hell unrolls its flag.

Full of stripey exuberance and crowned with golden laurels, City of Hades rises fiery and fierce above the hills of Bethlehem and spits in scorn at the manger empty and devoid of hope. Shepherds go down on the sheep and the bleatings carry merrily to Herod who calls on the shepherds to spare the sheep and join the monks and crones in their annual rendition of Free the World.