You Know Your Government Lies
WE ARE THE MUSICAL WHIZZKIDS, CEREBRAL MISFITS
WE ARE THE SHAPERS OF WORLDS, THE DREAMERS OF DREAMS
LOST, FORLORN, GATHERED TOGETHER, FOREVER IT SEEMS
Sark
Approaching Sark
Misty horizon
Island receding
Floating in fog.
OPERATION MELT-DOWN
NOBS DECEPTION RUE
DOWNWIND JOHN SON OF CONNAUGHT
SINK THE SENTENCE.
C.N.D. EXPENSES
COSTLY CONFERENCE
ILLEGAL PRESS-GANG.
Alien Item
OUT IN THE WASTELAND
I MET WITH AN “ALIEN ITEM”.
“FEED ME!” IT SAID.
“SO GIVE ME A REASON,” I SAID,
AND KICKED THE WRETCHED THING.
Schtolzen Sie
Arise to see the light behind your eyes
It never dies, nor penetrates the lies
Which pervade people’s minds
They dive in droves by the scores of hundreds
I cannot be clear anymore
Because of this war
Due to this morality
The reason is this nation
Falling under the prophetic star
Circle of light
A circle of light
A table of feasting
Noble hounds lay at our feet
I looked and you did not turn your gaze away
The Panopticon
Psychological disTRACTion
Inner mind desTRUCtion
Higher Soul MYSTification
Can man invert art deRANGEment
Tall Tales
Waking up before sunrise
My body is not yet born
Is inhabited by dreams
Yet to be fulfilled
Sense, Utility, Expression part 2
Come to centre and extent
Sounds surround decentralised context
Patterns, images interwoven
Forms, sense, focus and intent
Sense, Utility, Expression
Love: a cold hard sky gnashes its teeth on the mountains
Love: A burn the colour of dull lead
Love: The last bird cries lonely on the moor
Love and Darkeness
Love: a cold hard sky gnashes its teeth on the mountains
Love: A burn the colour of dull lead
Love: The last bird cries lonely on the moor
Inner Sense
Why was the sense
Extracted from innocence?
Life’s purity bottled-up
And sold for a song
Since ages gone
Eagle
Nowhere, but in the body’s every filament
Everywhere, except where the seagull’s eye flickers
Somewhere, but where are the keen cries of the eagle?
Dark Moon
Came through a dark moon over discarded hills
Away from the swamp-vapours multiplying ills
Silent fears in the night and ghostly chill
Cars
I see night and “Cars rule”. In front, behind, to the left and right As I roll along to my destination Through the night.
Old man Willow
THE WHITE PATH TROD
WHOSE STEPS LEF FROM HELL
THERE AND BACK AGAIN
NOW SEEK THOU THE SACRED WELL
Palm
Is the Tree of Life dying?
Is the river’s rush drying?
Is the hunted man crying?
NO! The Tree of Life is thriving!
The Edge of an Energy Field
A discontinued line
The sparking end of a live flex
Dipped at the water
A path which once led to somewhere
Now buried and overgrown, lost forever.
Yoga
Yoga and meditation Is The shade where You May rest as you will Benmeath the branches Of the Tree of Life Next to the flowing, rushing
Waters of the River of Time
Poem 6
The only race is the one
To regain re-unification
To become, humankind, one race
In the eye of God’s perception
Poem 7
You made my life shine
Re-kindled passion I thought was blunted
I think you understand me
I’m not really that complicated
I wonted, was baited, fated then sated
Poem 9
There was an old lady
She had a black kettle
She went in the garden
Poem 8
You don’t say what you think
You don’t think much anyway
You lie and flatter
Jimi Hendrix
We looked out over the glistening plain
Heard the sound of a sparrow’s footfall
We knew we would not pass by here again
Forgive me
Forgive me
If, after years of dull insensibility
I begin to feel again
Forgive me
If, after decades of painless oblivion
I begin to feel emotions again
Poem 6
Economic acceleration
Hyperbolic curve of need’s greed
Plotted Course or indecision
Clutching At Straws
Clutching at straws – as short poem by Chris Hudson. I am a wild-eyed loner at the gates of oblivion, I want to die like Jesus Christ, I want to write my name in the stars, I want to dive into your ocean
I feel like a virus
I set-off on the bicycle To trundle down the hill Into the Town so grey Where all the folk look ill
The Midas Touch
Cruel Fate
Spirit of St Louis
Wanna Be Wolf
Up to You, Babe
The Wife
The Tool
To Be a Human
To Be a Simple Star
Stuck Again
The Man Never Spoke
Talk Walk Talk
The Failed Chip
Salamagin
Street Walk
Sallymanda
Shoe Shine
Right Now, Dear
Only If You Want
Living Dead
Man Power
Nothing Doing
MACHINE OF MAN 2
Machine of Man
Life Up a Gum tree
Change: Gridmania
“I Don’t Know!”
What You Get
When I can create nothing
Worldspin
Untitled 1
Untitled 2
Untitled 3
Untitled 4
Untitled 5
Untitled 6
Untitled 7
Untitled 8
Untitled 9
Untitled 10
I’m Waiting Now
Goodbye
Forget The Rest!
Just Deserves
BURNING
A Thought for Today
Your words are like
Your words are like
Wounds to my soul
Pleading, cajoling, persuading
Like knives, daggers in my heart
Winter in Town
Dull shades walk the streets
Why did the joy separate from the work?
Why did the joy separate from the work?
Why did they go their separate ways?
Now only the old, the sick and the broken
For the Last Time
I have been trapped
By a slide of blinding images that have
tumbled o’er my head
And my spine has snapped
Cord broken, connection nullified
As I tried to grip the fragments of a broken
life
Well
Well, we’ll see that job done
Then get together and have some fun!
This whole damn world
This whole damn world’s just a pleasure machine
I’m just a cog and I’m feeling mean
I’m going to drop love bombs on the hating scene
Shout until they put me on a screen
There was a man
They used to call Everyone’s Fool.
Well now he’s been to the other side
The Treacherous Malapropisms of Dictophony
Grinning inanely
The scientist said
“I’ve hotwired your brain.
As long as you behave,
You won’t have any trouble again.”
The Teacher spoke in hazardous climes
The Teacher spoke in hazardous climes
Insured against healthy and safe times
No camping in monkey vine-rope grids
The more time goes on
The more time goes on
The further away from the truth I seem to go.
I’m living from a distance
And I haven’t got there yet
The Forest of Sensation
Where the forest of sensation, body of lithe limberness, instead one procession of newly installed blunders
Shut away all the good things of the earth, instead to gnaw a tail of frustration until it was amputated cruelly.
Sowing
I scatter my seeds
A handful at a time
Planting I build a temple
To nature’s glory
Some Behavioural Aspects of the Insignificant Reality of Words Revisited.
Chartreuse the handsome man sat at his desk sipping scotch with water. His nose, a dripping sagging feature bowed crookedly beneath sadly sloping eyebrows and a weak, rheumy eye. He was thinking, In alternative dimensions, the one we rarely work in, time, all places are one.
Sentimental
Fresh sunny morning
Tumbled out of bed
She sits how
Sensuous marriage of
Sensuous marriage of
The turning tracks that
Underfoot, undefy the wheel
As all expands everlasting
Joy pervades, and tunnels
O.T.
These are people with time to waste
They just sit and stare into space
Their reserves of energy are all spent
And Good Sense? They just don’t know where it went
Not Quite
Time sits heavily on the marbled mantlepiece
I’m not sure if you’re real or you’re fake
The life you live is so outlandish
My Family And Other Monsters
My Dad’s got a big nose
Which he blows as well <
My Mother's mouth flaps and flaps
Neither of them get ill
Loui and The Meat
I invited him to a party
Out of doors, you see
He came along quite promptly
And meat he with him brought
Le soleil brille
Le soleil brille, la mere est calme et plat, c’est un jour claire et brillant Dans le ciel des nuages flottaient comme des cheveaux en courant.
Les bateaux de peche ascende et descende gentillement
Des cries entendus des oiseax, les fleurs qui fleurissent,
Les ballades, insensibles des insectes chantaient
Et moi, humaine, inondee par des pensees.
It’s funny when
It’s funny when
Your face seems
As as cold and as craggy as a Cobo rock
In this age it would seem
In this age it would seem
Poverty is an illness
The poor with their insanity, stupidity, inanity When all their life has been a cage.
In the depths of winter
In the depths of Winter’s snowy haze
I have seen icicles spangle encrusted faces
Diamond like; and across the sheet-white places a lost trumpet call,
In a puddle of bedraggled fag ends
In a puddle of bedraggled fag ends, locked in the loo
Restructured, renovated and riven, mill pond pedestal
Wicker basket poured scorn, Indian techno nonsensical objectives and adjectives
Overuled bypass culture designated refract zone, sniffs Columbus’s ass
Jumped the gun, was working when should have been having fun,
In 1873
In 1873
The German botanist Haeckel
Invented the word ‘Ecology’
A transparent term
