Berlin
On a cold winter's day
Stark nineteen thirty-three
Commit yourself to the water
Safe and silent
Sordid and secret
In this welt of Berlin
All Bridges Broken
Transparent inverted slow eyes
bloodshot with the devil's sickle,
leads akin and cast forth down
asunder.
Fathered phantom feline fledgling
begging soiled cotton,
taste ripe on the teeth
of rape.
Hold no bounds,
let the euphoria of the damned
overshadow your fears.
Dante in flagrante
rise, godless faun
and spread your parchment wings.
Guide us
gild us
and we shall travel
a thousand sinners.
Appalachia
I look down at my hands,
feminine, dark and workworn.
Cold blooded dogs,
rest with their long dead
cowering masters.
Discarded dusty bones,
hang like tourniquets
of upturned redundant ivory,
masked with ghosts' faces.
All hail the west.
Cold cruel winds,
binding, eating up the north,
blind all stray foundling.
Leaving the bloody crystal carnage
as evidence,
for the pining sun.
Wooden houses,
one would assume full to bursting,
echo deafening absence.
For the slaves of this desert,
hide in shallow grey holes.
These hands have lain,
upon death
her very self.
Afterlife
Premeditated excesses glow
in a hue of violent degree,
enter/exit doorways to the lesser world,
material existence zero.
The falling,
forever uncoiling motion
of a black Japanese hair follicle,
match/set,
the unblinking purple retina
of a pubescent Aryan schoolboy.
Walking
erected backwash bile,
fathers mothers children
seedlings and saplings,
withhold/release,
the account of your withered inbred life.
Cattle like
herd like,
(not) bird like.
No feet may come abound
or indeed apart,
in these ever eternal
non-referral
death cells.
Lesser reduced rate for a family of five,
predestine your loved one's future
for free.
An echo of an orchid,
is a dark one.
Soon Silver Crow
On the eighteenth of February, 1974
I drove out late, onto a small decaying motorway
far out back in upper savannah.
The road was cruel and soon gave out,
Shape and shade ceased without any song,
Following the engine's dull metallic monotone sighing.
When perchance I spied,
a blueblack bird of ebony grace, cradled
nesting, sitting soft, resting,
at the side of the concrete blizzard.
Walking wounded or praying for time,
my bleeding heart could not fathom,
so, in an attempt to override guilt for compassion,
I asked him if he should so require
the monstrous touch of a human.
Behold, what a feeble gesture to a bird of gilded gold.
Then he replied through his beak,
in a voice of wrought iron,
You fool, I need not no hand of a human to die on.
I shall sit alone, therefore brave to meet death,
I shall never succumb to your fleshy request.
Now leave me alone to bow my old head,
you must retreat homeward,
where your sentiments are rewarded instead.
Here I am with nothing, but my waning strength.
You who have everything in your seedy god's kingdom,
still howl like a child at the thought of pained weathers.
For it is I who has nothing, who has everything.
And it is you, who has everything, who really has nothing.
Leave me to die.
In less than seconds, my feeble body was overcast
by the broad wing of a thousand silver crows
ready to carry the crow
to begin the journey to his golden afterlife.
Sylvia
Sadness
has enveloped these rooms.
Whitewashed these walls
pale grey,
it's
the simple prospect,
of your self denial.
My soul floats,
whereas yours grates.
A Cold Night in October
Sa'ween wears her cloak
like shining black ebony.
Pray tell, sweet Persephone,
how dark are your dwellings?
Dead Man
Unfurl your golden broken coil
and spike my maiden hard and upward.
Southward, eastbound
northward, west with fire.
Do you aspire to be
a Siamese replica,
of lust and faked identities?
I only hope
that in the seemingly endless void of death,
you find the knowing and the meaning,
that you always waned in life.
A Dark Sexual Fantasy in a Cold Blue Room
A back pocket sneer
speak of your lover,
mine is paper
with even a cover,
page thirty-three
adrenalin racing,
experience no flesh
black water hating.
Through thick and thin
I have descended blue solo,
with darkened wings
and a mud stained halo,
take your pity
and manners decline,
cold self denial I have come to refine.
Creature comforts
swell simply bigger,
kind eye
mind's eye,
an hourglass figure.
A Moss Garden in Heaven
Blind automatic writers
push lithium powered pencils,
baptize the hands of the holy
with coal scented larvae.
A scale of unmeasurable
and unintelligible flesh,
score the earth
for stray ears and eyes.
Catch the smile
as it slides from her face.
Martin
Sleek plump muscle,
erect neglected bloodclot tussle
come, be all and everything I require
fill me, open me
all my lust burst forward
forth and desire,
the unbelievable touch
of a leper on skinned velvet.
Closing full lips,
testosterous tissue
thrusting sleek stretching
a debauched highbrow issue,
heaven.
Achingly contract
a miser's cold lust
take it all aimlessly
full house or bust,
god forgive me
I'm full of you.
Heaven.
Five Blank Bullets
Fear spills from death eternal.
A thousand faces
laughing at mine.
Whilst gradually,
the red spider sheaths
a broken doll's plastic body.
Swollen glands
purple
silver earthworms
masquerade an unmasked lullaby.
Sleep.
Opaque blood filled red taffeta mushroom bellow,
filling and fluffing the sky,
overlord, menstrual eye.
Bad blood, white hood
seething despair boils this mass,
whole and unleaded.
Walking for miles
in a desert of ghosts,
candles keep their promise,
and regard the dead as friends.
Death the Serpent I
Death screams dark blue
soft indigo
carrying ultra-violet
tuberose
like an unidentified muse
shrouded in stars
Death the Serpent II
Life renders us quite blind
so does death grant us sight?
In death
will we see,
what was so blinkered
for us in life?
Maybe.
Hulda
Winter
like a slowhanded breeding death
dawns then freezes
frozen minds alike,
such a timeless still quality;
seeming endless quantity.
These fingers
frozen and brittle
install the weak with terror.
Akin to the wandering toll
of an infinite note,
solitary
complete
invasive.
The frozen sentence
rings on and on and on,
whilst ice-encrusted Gaia
sleeps and laughs with frost in her bosom.
Pink Women I
Fish lithe Montana
Glass bushbabies
Bloated bastard bambino
Echoed negro fledgling
Smothered nylon niches
Vaginal sacrificial secretion
Afterbirth banana bonanza
Plastic cactus couscous
Unlawful oral fistfuck
Electrical polysectical skin failure
Intravenous Alan Seamus miasma
Dilation Delilah
Fourteen shit lipped flippers
Nanny Grandma lychee
Glandular fever weaver
Serial killer pissboards
Stained glass reflection erection perfection
Lunar cement lament
Glâcé gothique innuendo
Turquoise porpoise crackup
What fun we had by the sea.
Popol Ah-Camunt
Recreational stance
Sublime, subliminal
Negative summer
Black priestess, Zulu fatale
Schizophrenic dayglo
Annular occult embodiment
Deities circling forever onward
Cropped gloss pitch faces
Hold skin
That forces emblems
Of mesmerism
Shaking, clutching, thieving
Neon heart chakra
Green and bloody
Beating yet blunt
Held captive in terror
My neighbour's space
Was vacant
Her daughter's face
A vagrant
Lips of gold and purple
And lime green...
Shimmer
Down in the glasshouses...
With orchids and bottlenecks
Eating spiders' castoffs
Headfirst
Twenty-seven Seconds and Counting
Numbing suspension,
inactive.
Involuntary anaesthesia,
Factory line smile.
Count all your blessings,
for three legs are better
than one.
Controlling your thoughts,
two side/landslide.
Sustain the compulsion
to killy kill kill.
The Moon in Mexico
La luna
La Gorda
the sticky sweet heart
of a Portuguese murder.
Dancing with honour
dealing in vices,
in the black of the moon,
hanging in guises.
Static
Crackle.
Billy
Innocence saved us,
ignorance craved us.
The world was our oyster,
falling,
fallen.
Walk into the garden
let the sky
paint a rainbow
on these tears,
for this is goodbye.
Illumination from the Outer
A raging fever has gripped me.
I must be lost, longing
holding onto whispered secrets
told by corpses in shimmering coral,
heavy and hanging.
Listen,
the ever present threat
of nocturnal beasts and dark toys.
Scratching
moving.
Mother,
father,
please leave the light from the outer,
for how dark vibrates the inner.
Illumination
the only saviour,
the only salvation.
Alternatively,
in the morning we may be gone,
for the darkness shall snatch us.
All.
Of Cloves and Ostrich Feathers
Inhale
Oh Spanish little girl
in the red dress
we all know who to impress
he's only two blocks away
Exhale
Untitled
Always view
your phobias
through a monocle
there's far less
to be afraid of
by half.
Pink Women II
Rabid
Soaked
Sodden
Cat's eyes
Mildew
Sultana
Colour
Flesh
Woodbine
Proposition
Accusation
Restoration
Glitter
Smoke
Heroin
Secrete
Permeate
Piss off
Gladly
What fun
we
had
beside
the
sea
A Mantra of Meditation for the Darkest o' Deities
Chakras like daggers,
flick open in the blink of an eye.
Devest, demask and show true,
split the earth like a ripe fruit.
Let forth catastrophic kaleidoscopes,
let vice reap the bleeding.
Here are, here are, here are
Here YOU are.
Claim whatever is rightful,
revenge, repent, respect.
Sodden and complete,
but longing, lifeless and beaten.
Hark!
The sweet bell does toll the highest of pitch,
of poison.
Heap the needy
dead.
The intensive spectate
the moon bleed the sun.
Pray and seek all black angels,
heaven, heaven, heaven
suspect.
Speech
Frustration
is a word
that I despise,
because
I endure it.
A Dark Promise
As from
tomorrow
I shall no longer
distill
within me
the bloating
poison
of wet
blue
salvation
but
invite in
the hunger
of a thousand
men
to ravish
and pick clean
fallen compromises
with
no
contour
In the Blink of an Eye
Gastric statues inflict blind Tourette madness,
caress your brother's grey skin... ugliness!
Dance, then freefall a great silence without depth.
Ballroom catastrophes whistling hot Dante,
sceptical scéance.
A medium's flick pitch quick switch.
Zither humming sadness,
golden teardrops fall in a string of pink façades.
Bodybag, murder, consecration,
holding down unwholesome Spanish children,
protrude and dilude monotone tongues.
Slither, drumming madness,
catch the scorpion playing Jesus.
Vulture, Mother Worm, babies,
these winds crack a thousand yellow tree tops.
Half blind
heavy calloused fingers,
dirty
walking, marching, stating no obvious.
Falling, engulfing,
crying, enraptured in gold silk.
Screaming like hot souls blinded in blood.
Dark fist fantasy,
black park zero.
Gramophone, tubular bells
water on the lung.
Half Coil
Raise a glass of misology
orange, ribbed and veined.
Panting
clay faced
shaken.
Needy, black
and burnt.
We only lie that we
love you,
in an attempt to
see you move.
Panzer man.
I am Gossamer
It is one-sided
and self-satisfying,
a decision
that I, myself
have made.
I wish to be delinquent,
devoid of any decorum.
Today, I would like to be
alone.
These senses;
as soft as balm
as harmful as warfare,
spread through my anatomy
like quick fire exanthema.
The toxin giggles seminal,
bleed with pulsing foxtrot,
akin immortelle.
Violently,
I shake,
with the aftermath
of gross incapacity.
The report states true;
inclement weather
on its way.
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
Stinging
Voices glowing in mud
Voices singing slick praises
singed red
green
black
blue
white
silver.
Voices;
to poison thyself
to dampen their purpose
seems the only possible
antidote.
Overthrow the source
of mass intrusion.
Trade electricity
and intoxication
for a brief period
of silence
The Start and Middle and End
The extreme alternative
found at both ends,
is blind,
yet true,
in comparison
with the unearthed occult,
that lies untouched
in the middle.
Summer Committed
On a shimmering green evening,
holding refelctions of Valiente,
and the singing humming incubus,
my soul was called for
by men in white and pearl silver.
Movement slashed,
a piece of meat
a number
a raging reverb
clashing from down under.
Cold lifeless men,
speaking of low heroes,
transporting metal and pink steel,
laughing openly in the face of
fate.
Whispering coarsely.
Indeed Metropolis herself,
could not compete
with such back breaking.
Barter blood for anaesthesia
and pray you
don't meet
madness herself.
RSV 3
Three precious solitary souls,
with the wind on their side,
and the raw moon behind them,
earth in their favour
and fire in their golden hearts,
sacrificed theirselves
for the truth of art
and painstaking longevity,
will all reunite as flame
when the end
shades their faces.
The flame that burns thrice
as bright,
burns three times as long.
The Ubiquitous Effect of Life
My chest leaves trails,
heaving with amphetamine,
colours that vibrate,
my whole one
a million of others.
Sharp shafted quiverings,
the numb evil liquid queen
of the inevitable sinking,
laughs with her hands
around my vodka soaked throat.
Cold fevers of insanity
distort my face with
a fleshy blanket,
into a blue choking mirage,
ugly bastards breed
with spiteful contempt.
Seething and bleeding
squeezing and teething,
finding her feet,
in my bleak
choking leather boundary,
ugliness leers,
ugliness cheers,
victory, victory.
Splinter into atoms,
then fuck it up again.
Faveola
These lips of grey satin,
these lips of grey silk.
This mouth
murmured rancid,
spitting black milk.
Sharpened, raw
cracked and you must
presume them
to hiss,
from the scorn
of your semen,
to the swastika
of your kiss.
Let the griffin
take flight,
for he can poison
us no more.
Let us sing,
as we convulse.
Dark America
alligator
soap suds ringing
a song of cranberry scented
finger puppets
dorian dorian
ain't you aged
good boy
dead boy
redneck
go play wax crayon
ink settle
high on the spicy
floor of a thick dense wood
in San Francisco
being fucked up the
ass by a man in a black
boilersuit
I smell kittens
hairless legs
under pink
lamé ballet
stockings
wasn't she good tom
was I good mom
too good
daddy got a hard un
quick rice
two minutes
laundry basket laura
sorry frank
tom and mary
grease your fingers quickly
on the
fourth o' July's roast
finger my foetus
it lingers on your breath
where's that girl
dumb marylou
I know you wanna fuck her
you told me once high in your sleep
productiveness is better than
shootin your dog hon
let him be
if he sez he'll get goddarn
job heeel goddarn get un
now kiss your momma
the bowlin alley smelt of its usual cacophony
beer sperm shit n wet grrrls' pussy
cowboy cowgirl
you're too old for that dress
and I'll shoot your face point blank
when I get enough bullets for
ma gun.
Git me a beer
have one y'all
fuck it
it's friday.
e-mail: vaughan_watson@yahoo.co.uk
visit: Crow City Books