The day I failed my personality test

You wanna test

my personality,

You say you’ll make a

man of me,

Wanna check the level of

Dianetic technology

required to set

me free

from the engrams that

bedevil me.

I’m very sorry,

Mr Scientology

in the words of Boy George

I’d much prefer a cup of tea.


Ahhh, Irish breakfast.  The writer once had a personality test.  It turned out he didn’t have one.  The scientologists had to throw him back, and off he swam, along the stream of rushing humanity along Castlereagh Street, still unable to fathom what made him different, as in his mind he added up the numbers on the registration plates of the cars he passed.  On cold nights he aches, and he thinks he may still have the hook embedded in his cheek.



Homeopathy and other fictions


A homeopath

is a sociopath

in your home

putting drops into everything

and you don’t know about it.

Who knows where your water has been?

Memory persists in water.

Memory persists in me.

I still see the faces staring up from under the ice.

When that frozen water melts,

what memories it will carry to the sea.


I’m not picking on alternative medicine this week, though it might seem like that.  I don’t trust any medicine.  I like the old Chinese way, you only pay your doctor while you are well.  I don’t like their medicine though.  Homeopaths water down their treatments to the nth degree.  Memory persists in the water, they say.  But what else has that water seen?  What other memories is it carrying in to me?  What poisons, what disasters?  Water from drowned lungs, water from flooded cities, from industrial processes, the urination of the dying … I don’t want it in me, I don’t want the memories of it all.  I’m trying to get rid of memories, I don’t want new ones.


Marine Boy

You need your gadgets boy,

and how cool they are:

rocket propeller shoes

electric boomerang

oxy gum.

But you will never fit in.

Everything underwater will always be blurry before your eyes

obscuring the truth

that the mermaid is never taking you home to meet her parents.

You are a fish out of water, boy

Always just one stick of gum away from death.

That’s no way to live.


Technology obscures our weaknesses.  There is no record in prehistoric times of humans requiring underwater breathing apparatus.  At first the ancient Greeks had no need of it, until Archimedes required a device with pump to explore under water.  Ancient humans travelled great distances across seas without boats.  It is only with the development of civilisation that our ability to breathe underwater has disappeared.  Do our developments make us weak, or is there a more sinister explanation?  Has the ability been deliberately removed, through genetic manipulation, or other means?  DO NOT TRY TO BREATH UNDERWATER, YOU WILL DIE.  Not everyone can be as strong as me.  Not even me.


(The Joe Chip portal has been updated here.)


One eye fell out
One eye fell out
One eye fell out
Now there only is one eye

As the lady always says, there are consequences to actions.  I know what they said afterwards and I have learned to accept responsibility, but I also think the other guy has to take responsibility for his own eye.


You can colour me with pencil
You can colour me with pencil
You can colour me with pencil
But you cannot make me blue

This was from when the lady was teaching me that I was responsible for my own feelings and that I couldn’t blame others all the time for how I felt, or how I acted on my feelings. There used to be another bit about how I could make them red, and something something something dead, but that caused a bit of a stir and I don’t choose to remember it any more.