Hungry

I don't mind stealing bread.

Cut-ups

I was reading some Borroughs and I thought i'd try out this...

Here is a sample of what i came up with:

New York City freezing his scrawnch hair. His face. Quiet he mutters through chattering, a word celebrity. 'I'm not interested in trembling, it's winter in his holyest. The ultimate downside to the fall'. He could walk these streets one of two ways. His attempts seem credible, in more and more sincerity he chooses the difficult ways.

To point towards the greed and understand that to get their you need presence. Today the actors presence is in sly smiles (His semi-jagged teeth are in the Lower East side, eating a roast beef of cool). I guess i'm a hypocrite with worn-in corduroy trousers as famine distances from me. Red lights; life heads, as he takes his cigar and whispers that he's rising rapidly. He puts his head away and sings out a statement about his day, carefully noticed by all in the room. Instantly however, he is left unrecognised.



well, that kinda worked, I guess.

some afternoon

i looked at my hands and became numb. So I stood up gently swaying, and switched off the lights.
When I crashed back into the far away sea of mattress, I found myself telling myself to not be stuck beside myself.
I wrote this plan and left it on my chest. After some time I could feel deep tingling up the muscles in my legs welcoming back movement. The plan slipped quietly off the duvet and floated down among the ashes. I looked at my hands, guilty of doing something recently.
Helpless, I went to pull on my jeans.
That's when I found the note. I remember it now.
I smoothed it out with prowl, endorsing it's message profusely.
I began to read it out loud;
It said, '

a better haiku

Nightfall,
boy smashing dandelions
with a stick.

haiku

beyond the sitting room,
a hungry snake slithers
quietly.

When did you get here this morning jack

Lying around waiting for the name of your platform with channels of time falling apart on yesterdays late train. You didn't make your dinner, that's just one of the things building up, the hunger to kick over that table of pale green mess of vegetables into the face of distasteful dreams . Take your gun out and shoot the highest big shot. Run down the traffic warden who see's you do it first. Sit down, take an exam, become good at life, get the marks. Grow and learn till you die, conserve your teachings at 22, spit back at any help you ever got, be the business, write a thesis, buy a house, knock down a tree, jack be finance, jack be free.

Jack look back, Jack spit at me, Jack I got a father, who doesn't dream.


And then he turned away,


And another one said,

Okay.
Quit.
Mad.
Stop.

In the magazine

Someone dropped their cigarette. And for a while, watched.

today

when i sat on the roof having smokes i saw;

A man being beaten up in broad daylight

Four gangsters having a rap battle

A black hummer limo

&

A man dressed as Anton

Same as it ever was

In the future, buying music will be become a ritual to pay respect to the artist more than it has ever been. If music is free the best artists will still get their money because they're good. TV shows promoting new singers will fall apart as CD profits finally disappear. If you want to get paid for making music you'd better be the best. The music industry is going to fall, and then everything will sound good again.

So don't worry about anything.