On the summer solstice a lonely wordster trying to dream his way out of a dire situation using cut ups of an old novel, other poetry books and assorted media.
10am
Holed up in eternity’s shed
Another weary night of blue soul in the old town
An indelible thread of fugitive originality embedded in my appearance
I wrap the time worn sheet around myself ready for the hours ahead
This cloak I am now wearing is homemade from various found materials
The cloaks ingredients include painkillers, iodine, lighter fluid and industrial cleaning agents
The chemical make-up of my cloak makes things highly dangerous
Causing the writer to lose all sense of self-control during the time he or she is under the influence
11am
This is my doorway to the underworld and it is growing
This melting permafrost that has revealed freakish holes in the earth
This resemblance to hell’s mouth that makes us dream of a coming apocalypse
This surely must be the most beautiful frontline in the world
This isn’t propaganda you are witnessing: it is the reinvention of reality
This is my doorway to the underworld and it is growing
MIDDAY
From space race…
To psychedelic awakening…
To street reportage…
Incorporating communications, architecture design and photomontage…
It’s the hope that kills you.
1pm
It’s a cheap marketing trip
An old product but it’s a new package with a refined price label
Hostile states, organised crime gangs, lone hackers
Ideological “hacktivist” groups or script kiddies looking for kudos among peers
Fragments are scattered all over between a great many channels
Contagious ideas are spreading between different animals and even different species
There are messy cups everywhere
It’s a cheap marketing trip.
2pm
The world is a disfiguring tropical disease…
The world is a parasite in its own blood stream…
The world is horrible open sores
The world is disfiguring skin lesions, nodules or papules
There must be other ghosts here
The world is a disfiguring tropical disease…
3pm
I am busy cutting all this up.
4pm
Out of this cut up
A scenario emerges
As if, just in time
The new cut scenario enables me to dream my way out of this room
The new cut scenario places me out on a sea front breathing in hot morning air
Dreams all lucid and high as high can be
Quite the funambulist now I look down at the vision before me
Waves lap sugar rush addictions
Sugared junky on the pebbled shore
As toxic lovers make out high and oblivious
Already a blood red sun hanging a dark brooding light over the horizon
A scenario is emerging
A new form taking shape out of this cut up.
5pm
I ease my vehicle out of the town heading east along the coast
The Butthole Surfers dominating the musical playlist
A bottle of La Occidental Cuban Spirit at hand
Bottled dreams like dirty spirit trapped in voodoo matter
Voodoo matter looking mucky good by the hoodoo water
Thoughts all driven by the will
Transcendent spirit and matter at the cross
Crucifixion binds
Transformation sets free
To die and be reborn
A divine ray that comes from nothing
I ease my vehicle out of the town heading east along the coast
Who am I?
6pm
I am a dipsomaniac ex-waiter who once dabbled on the fringes of the porn industry…
I now work in security information’s communications and security
I have become a sad ghost of my former glory at the cutting edge of computing technology
And deep digging is interesting to a degree
But lately I have come to this conclusion …
The thought of me being a user not found terrifies me
Going back to the serving of food to the rich or debasing myself on screen… shit
At this moment in my life though…
What courage or ability to change do I possess?
Even the weakest romantic thriller writer would surely look at my plot and dismiss me as absurd
The limit that confronts me here is the great void between our-selves and the stars
I am a dipsomaniac ex-waiter who once dabbled on the fringes of the porn industry…
7pm
I arrive at a shabby Travelodge in the port
Salted distempered walls draw me in
The dark interior of a space that serves way beyond any semblance of perceived time
I stare across the abyss
This is my own liminality
My own move to make
I arrive at a shabby Travelodge in the port.
8pm
This is all I have to hand
Bottle of La Occidental Cuban Spirit on the side table
Battered paperback copy of The Magical Universe on the bed
Outside is decisions and freedom, virus and chance
Here inside: splendid isolation default /indefinite
Let me name my materials
Bread
Feathers
A bird’s egg
An overhead aircraft
This is all I have to hand
9pm
A homemade altar is set up
A slab of grey Formica
Flimsy poundshop candles
Plastic doll effigy
Cardinal points marked
Bread for earth:
Feathers for fire:
Overhead aircraft: starry firmaments above
Birds Egg for water: pearls hidden deep below
Street graffiti on discarded cardboard for other elements
Nail the graffiti cardboard to the west wall
A homemade altar is set up.
10pm
I place on the altar
All materials
And…
A metal bowl
Fill it with L’occidental Cuban Spirit
Feathers to burn
Bread to ingest
Egg to wonder
Strip down
Flesh to bone
Eyes wide open
Breath hard
Clench fist
Stir soul
Guide spirit
Visualise path
A circle drawn
Step in, step in
Intone translation
Rite for change
Sigil list
Decisions
Freedom
Movement
Consequence
All materials are here on the altar.
11pm
Pay homage to the four points as I invoke good things
Eat the bread for the body therein the figure that I aspire to
Throw feathers above my head thinking of Icarus all the while
Even as now the world itself
Begins to descend around me
Let the good goddesses possess my willing being
Magical intention projecting momentary orgasm
Visualised in an outpouring of liquid word gold
Engendering wild promises of all the grand things I will do to benefit mankind
I’ll halve poverty
I’ll improve ecological conditions
I’ll double health spending
I’ll improve celebrity status
I’ll extend life expectancy by 1000 years
I’ll increase freedom and democracy
If this spell works
I could really do some good here
MIDNIGHT
But how is good going to help me?
I mean, what good is good?
Good doesn’t make the right dirty loud noise
Only the proper bad ever wakes us up
Only the truly alive ever achieve the big notices
Imagine the damage to be done if I went the other way?
Imagine the impact that could be made
How is good going to help me?
1am
Riots have taken place across France
Many moments have turned violent
Shops, public buildings, parks, targeted
A particular tide has now come in
Global boiling debt forgiveness process
Reverse-engineering of extraterrestrial materials
An explosion in the cooling pond
All ventilation channels blown wide open
Riots have taken place across France.
2am
Only when realising how I could destroy whole swathes of world do I really come alive
And so a fantasy kicks in
Fantasy conspires to devise new inventive ways of killing
Gangs cutting out the eyes and tongues of liberals socialists and conservatives alike
Careless assassins fly into villages extract retribution fly out again
This isn’t propaganda I am promoting
It is the reinvention of reality
Only when realising how I could destroy whole swathes of world do I really come alive.
3am
The bombs begin to rain down
Many bodies trapped under rubble
Bodies grey with dust
Save for streaks of red blood down their faces and clothes
Many bodies trapped under rubble
Ugly spirit that stumbles into random towns
Ugly abstract slaughter
Ugly sacred cow
Ugly visions
Ugly propaganda
Ugly disinformation
And plans
And guns
And mines
And tanks
And drones
The atrocity killing machine
Armament of defence that attack so efficiently
Clearing everything cluttered in their path so easily
The bombs begin to…
The bombs begin to…
The bombs begin to…
Tired, teary, weary to bone
Afraid, afeared, scared, tired
Tired, teary, weary to bone
Afraid, afeared, scared, tired
Tired, teary, weary to bone
Afraid, afeared, scared…
This terrible debilitating nerve shredded fatigue
Do you want to step back from the brink now?
Come on, push on… push on
The bombs begin to rain down
More people die every minute
The war is far from over
Bodies grey with dust
Many bodies trapped under rubble
Is this a death wish?
What on earth have I unleashed?
Cue… tchhhhhheeehhhh
4am
The sun rises and I am picnicking among spangles of wild-flowers and long grasses
Contagious ideas are spreading between different animals and even different species
I am learning to navigate these perilous situations
5am
Routinely stopped and searched often for little or no reason
Compare our minutely controlled and supervised lives with those of the rich and the powerful
Think of a world dominated by inequality, money and its place in society
Then stand up and salute the 99 per cent
Believe in equal love and fair desire, good karma, even chance, open possibilities
Never discredit even the cheapest form of magic
Fly the freedom flag forever.
6am
If required on pain of death to name instantly the most perfect thing in the universe…
I should risk my fate on a bird’s egg
To this day, I do not know how I caused all this destruction
But it is true; my feathers, my bread, and a burned Butthole Surfers CD were found at the site
How it would be that a piece of bread could lay low the world’s mightiest machines?
Authorities denied everything said the incident was one of several small glitches happening across the time-zones
And for the first time in weeks, I afford myself a smile
7am
My obsessions have been worked through these past few hours
I have fallen totally in love with the idea of life again
Now that I am aware of the fear of death
8am
Intact and partially intact alien vehicles
Whose lives depend on accurate identification
Dance and skate all around us
I sometimes have the feeling that some of them…
Are living in the streets of the video games that have intoxicated them
The only surprise is the speed of the change
Artificial Stupidity
It is what it is
9am
When stars run out of fuel and start to die they collapse inwards
It makes them considerably hotter as they boil away enormous quantities of gases
The plane begins to fall
Then it steadies itself
Then the fall hastens
Then look how quickly it rises
Fragments of metal and body parts
My soul is on fire
Our flight is officially hijacked
10am
Holed up again in the eternity-shed
A new star comes firmly into view
The hour is at hand I discard the time worn sheet
The doorway to the future underworld closes once more
Was this really the most beautiful frontline in the world?
Yes, and it remains so
I will publish an official statement now.
