Tug Dumbly # 32 - Mary Shelly had a Strong Belly (aka bunch of fragments chucked together)

Mary Shelly had a Strong Belly   

and Jesus ain’t just for Christmas

can’t chop down god like a tree

he moves with you in formation

like a dogfighting plane

or Esther Williams

in an Aquamusical

surrendering over and over

those flowing arms of praise …

… in rhythm like  

businessmen rock soft

on heels, laugh like

lazy machine guns trading

fire over the wire

not really trying to kill

I throw televisions

from the windows

of my eyes

Time gives an eye for the extraneous

when ya going to get round

to editing your life

draft after fat draft rejected

by some great and powerful Oz …

… Ho hum …

When even tasted heavens let you down

come back to acceptance

again and again in the loop

of torment like a godfighting plane

can we never stop sucking

this infernal godstopper?

we praise-seeking machines

ringing Sick Whippy Van Minuets of self

mad-rigals of me-ness

suicidal poets overuse the word I

and I for one take bad weather

as a personal affront

don’t go into the world today

a lioness hath whelped in the street

give yourself a Sick Note for Life

sickness is the new wellness

in the wellness centre

all these conceptions of self

flapping like shreds

of rotten chop flesh

between the teeth

the flagellating tongues

of a car wash, whipping

black linguini   

find yourself / escape yourself

an eternal game of hide and seek

for one, don’t tell anyone who’s ‘it’

coz you don’t know yourself

self self self

both you             

and you

a pair of cackling chardonay crones

same old dirty habit

pushing me around

writing as self-harm

the tragedy of having

an unmythic past

try and cook up some history

You and some other

like you

in perpetual showdown

like a dumb bird

beating at a wing mirror

repeatedly

I’ll av ya,

I’ll av ya ..

or just two mirrors in a faceoff

just over and over chesting the thing

on repeat

I’ll av ya

I’ll av ya …

… Yes, I know.

There’s less to this

than meets the eye

of a magician turning

incomplete strangers

into labyrinthine novels

of elaborate motivation

byzantine, nefarious,

dripping, twisting Poeish ways,

the Cask of Amontillado

dank dripping chambres

flambeaux

I represent

and I pre-resent,

get in with a first strike policy

winding ways into strangers heads

grooved into novelty acts

of shock value

worn thin as shirts

So smells these teeming

motes afloat in the Sun’s Arcade

melismatic veddas

of butterscotch trams

spindel adrift cut unmoored 

from lemon fictions

of father suburbs after blast

moving out like radiation curtains

ripped from loops of despair

circle back to abased tranquility

slice open death

this botulized cyst

place bodies decaying

on telegraph poles

and traffic lights for

admiration of passer by parsees

and pedestrian Zorostrians …

Feed the vultures

tuppence a bag

let Bunnings beat that

All praise be the great composting

eye of god

                 crucifying temple dogs

crack eggs in dust

                              while we faintly baited

on meat of hope

                          enough to hook a prayer to

tonguing thus thou thy thee

three prong power socket trinity

surging with holy electric praise of death ..

‘this is sharp medicine’

says Raleigh, testing the axe

forseeing stump of his neck

I’m a primary producer

I manufacture resentment

run a Resentment Manufactory

we’re spanner bags of warring impulse

disarm the world by being disarming

judge others before they judge you ….

Do the loop of despair

Circle back to abased tranquility,

Try and outstare the stabbing

stars and sunspots ghosting

midnight at Menin Gate ...

Will Longstaff’s painting

anyway we’ll all be famous in the grave

with madrigals for jaywalkers

Bach seahorse and the sun’s arcade

all this and less

like a fly tightroping the lip of a glass

and this snailing heart

measuring time like metrognomic

gnosticisms of

religious Murder incrementally

butchering the dust

and don’t blame me

I only worship here

Take your Chemical bravery

In the cagefight of knowledge

you Episcopalian snail

we are all Banksy now

I am, you are, we are Banksy!

Animals suffer for our pleasure,

including ourselves

It is a dark apocalyptic sky

Angel Grinder of my eye

The charnel channels of erudition

It is a dark apocalyptic sky,

Angle Grinder, Angel grinder

The devil just jumps in your head like that

Da debil jes jumb in yer head lak daaat!

the snowy owl

of the sooty soul

in flux we fix

these steaming pullets 

in the sun’s nakency, breaking down,

in sarcastic orgasms decaying

into societal leaf mulch

gasping like a little bream on a dock

the death fish on hot splinters

shimmer scale sheen the

rainbow colours of a little gasping

dying death on a hot splintered dock

while you triumph at creature killing

animals suffer for our pleasure

including ourselves ….

please gently fuck this pavlova on the way out

the one in the shape of Phar Lapp’s heart

… to be discontinued until further notice …