Dream about fish

I can dream about FISH

all I like,

I can dream about FISH

all I like,

The bastard’s can’t stop me now

I’m dreamin’ ’bout fish right now,

I can dream about FISH

all I like.

…

Here is a poem about fish for Good Friday.  Its not a very good poem, because really it is a song.  If I did podcasting, you would be able to hear the true beauty of it.  Lines 5 & 6 really have to be belted out.  I can imagine Shirley Bassey doing a great job of it.  She should have recorded it straight after ‘Gold Finger’.  Except of course it wasn’t written then.  Technicalities keep getting in the way of the development of my artistic career.  Babs would probably do a good job, but she’s a bit nasally for it.  “Dream” is stretched out, to represent the endless nightmare that being a fish is, having to continually move, never able to rest or sleep, until the relief of being eaten.

All the spider webs are glistening in the light of the full moon.  If I go outside, they’ll run all over me.  And they’re huge.

Industrial rocks

Industrial rocks

do not fall

on Albania

They need

an industrial land

in which to land.

Its hard to believe in love

when you’re in so much pain

Its hard to believe in art

When you can’t remember your name

***

Do you remember

when they started to fall?

Do you remember

the first time you were hit?

All this bleeding

is getting me down.

…

…

We’re all DEVO.

An important story about rocks may be found here, and I strongly encourage you to have a look at it please.  Thank you.  There, that’s manners.

 

Eyes

Eyes are windows

the dead stare through

we keep them in our heads

nestled between thoughts and memories.

They always come back,

though never unchanged.

The dead stare and stare.

We fear what they have seen,

knowing we will see it too.

It freezes them,

hardens them, fossilises them.

Our eyes are windows,

the dead stare out.

Better

than that they

stare in.

…

Eye is here.

I have something on a similar theme here that may be of interest.  I’d really appreciate it if you would have a look.

The Joe Chip portal is updated here.

 

Toad on a Grecian Urn

There’s a toad on my urn

what’s it doing there?

Is it brushing its teeth,

or combing its hair?

 

There’s a toad on my urn,

how’d it get up there?

It had to jump high

up in the air.

 

I got that urn myself,

I stole it from Con.

I have to hide it away,

every time he comes round.

 

He got it from his mother,

before she died.

Don’t worry I checked,

there are no ashes inside.

 

The toad looks pretty fat,

I hope the urn doesn’t break.

If I have to steal another,

I feel sorry for Con’s sake.

 

‘Struth, that’s enough carry on,

that’s all you need to know.

My  urn is a beauty,

The toad only so-so.

…

Toads may be ugly, but who wants to be lonely.  An urn may be beautiful, but it will never hold you – at best it will only hold your ashes.  Toads on the other hand are always up for a cuddle.

Things I learned from watching the first episode of “The Walking Dead”

Men are mean

though they are not cruel

except for cruel men

who are mean and cruel.

Zombies are best avoided,

they have many bad habits.

…

Oh yes it is so very important to record every single thought that goes through one’s head.  I especially do not like frozen zombies, watching their jaws start to tremble with the tiniest movement beneath the ice, before they are barely thawed.  Now, what was the essential difference between mean and cruel again?  It wasn’t to do with money…I knew I should have written it down…

Identity

Have you come here

having googled “identity poem”?

Don’t just stand there,

come in, come in,

I have plenty of identities,

enough to go around.

Unnatural natives (2) and other distractions

Numb-bats

Body artfully draped

Wrist carefully exposed

Window opened just a little

A late night pose

.

Trap wary

though jaded

Set the scene

Lure them in

.

Room ransacked

Car carjacked

Best of all that morning

Feelings stolen away

.

Cheap furry buddhas

Bodhi-bat-vas

Take away nirvahna

Delivered every night

.

Take it all away.

***

Light sticks

Light sticks

So be careful where you throw it.

You think you’ll take my horrors away?

Light touch

You think I am too sensitive?

For equating exposure with dismay?

Light box

Have you read the instructions?

You’re gonna put my fears on display

Light blinds

Use only as directed

There’s a reason we have both night and day.

***

The End

Don’t look up.

Don’t!

***

I think vampires are better explained by the numb – bat, not the vampire bat.  The victims are always willing.  You don’t live forever, it just feels that way.  There are lots of cryptid bats where I live now.  Still, its better than the cold.

If you would like to see some other stuff I do, have a look at the Joe Chip portal.  There’s usually a nice picture of a bird even if you don’t like what I write.

Chariots of the gods?

Nice car, Pastor.

What’s the mileage?

Does God drive one like that?

***

I have a solution

to arguments about evolution:

go and feed the poor.

All of you.  Yes, you too.  Off you go.  Shoosh.

***

How many angels dance on the head of a pin?

All of them!

All the time!

Everywhere!

Join in!

***

Brand new Theologica

Theologi – car

Shiny bright

Across the sky it can drag a star

Make day from night

For the toughest labours

of Hercules

Safe for the family

and the Crash of the Titans

Theologica!

(You wouldn’t guess its a hybrid.)

***

Yes, it remains a fact that no matter how often they look in the Holy Book, not a theologian alive can tell me, what does God drive.  The only motorbike in the Bible is the Triumph, though.

I posted a poem about ancient astronauts and relationships with fathers here.

And please remember, the portal to all things Joe Chippish is here.

Sad Party Thing

It was Flag Day

so we wrapped ourselves in our flags

and went to the pub.

Everybody else had the same idea, but.

All the flags were the same

because we are all Flaglanders.

It would have been nice to wrap myself

in the flag of difference

but I was too scared.

Everyone looked the same.

The fun idea had become

A Sad Party Thing.

It doesn’t matter.

The flag unites us.

Our fear of looking different unites us.

All eyes are wary on Flag Day.

Everyone smiles with their mouths

as they lift their beers,

but all those eyes are looking about.

And those eyes are quick.

You don’t want to stand out.

Not on Flag Day.

There are no excuses.

It is not “I pay my taxes” day.

It is not “I am a human being, I have rights” day.

It is fucking Flag Day.

Alright?

You sad party thing.

*****

Edgar gave me an East German flag years ago but I decided not to take it.  I would have had to explain it for a start, and anything that needs explaining marks you as an intellectual, and we all know they need to be taken down a peg or two.

The Joe Chip portal has been updated here.  There is a nice picture of a bird.

Unnatural natives (1)

Womb-bats

The dry evening scurry

Falling leaves

Crackling open before

They hit the ground.

Tiny, not unnoticed as they swarm,

but unmentioned in polite company.

Huge amniotic eyes take in

the miracle of the world

each night.

Before the dawn,

unborn

Rustle along the sheets

A slight disturbance,

a shifting of knees

A minor annoyance

at the early morning turn,

the slight parting

as they enter

to nestle in.