Thursday, June 30, 2011

Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of My Mental Empire - Part Thirty-Nine


silence makes
memories scream

plane trip to the city
we are merely lights
to one another

thirty hour trip
rationing out my chewing gum
must get home somehow

irish pub, sydney australia
bad music - empty chairs and tables
i buy another beer

two food stands
one busy, the other
hopeful and sad

i hate this song
i hate this pub
one more beer, after this one

i love her
i love myself
saturday night in a bar

standing on the street corner
everything is fucked
my reflection on the parked car

drinking water from the bathroom sink
this cheap hotel room
and my six-pack of beer

the city at dusk
illuminated
by rattling trains and trams

so many people
with things to do
- I watch them

the autumn leaves,
in the front yard
like sunburnt vomit

a familiar stranger
sits next to me
- we smile and nod

stop for a beer
after work -
she's waiting for me

the writer's pen
inks his jacket -
like a smudged tattoo

the city at dusk,
so many buildings -
what are they doing?

cold at the bar, all day!
i look left and right,
and put on my beanie

inner city tree -
you've lived such
a cosmopolitan life

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Thirty-Eight

some strange, strange dreams
knocking me out - unconscious
disrupting my insomnia
no greys between my sun and moon
so much detail behind so many strange, strange dreams
im stuck and twisted in blankets
in twisted dreams
i'm always late
i must be insane by now
with a sleepy moan
i return from the space-stars
back to earth
no proof to suggest
today isn't the first day in existence
and everything else, just implanted into our so called
memories
maybe i've just been sent here for today
by my other world
by my home
to do something today
and im just borrowing this body for fifteen-hours
to come to work
do my thing
ignore everyone around me throughout the day
but in doing so
somehow set everything right
by writing this
back on track and moving towards their inevitable once again
god's work
and when i return to sleep tonight
i'll return to my home world
wherever or whatever
that may be
and tomorrow morning
simon lawlor will wake up again
without me inside him
and tomorrow, i'll wake up as someone else
somewhere else
and live their life for a day
live it naturally
and in doing so fix what they don't realise to be broken and wrong
im just a spirit who drifts from one person to the next
transported through dreams
to make this world right
to nudge and bump you all
back into your sad-little lives
thats what make's me god
i drift in and out of everyone
one person at a time
and orchestrate this infinite madness
through all the absurdity
trying to drive it all into some kind of meaning
i try not to waste your time
and in turn, in doing so
i give the whole shithouse a sense of meaning
so tonight, as i go to sleep as simon lawlor,
i will say goodbye to all his friends and loved ones
and he himself
i will thank lady-elle for another amazing dinner
as he does
i will go for a run and enjoy the pain he suffers
as he does
and go to sleep deeply
as he does
and dream myself into someone else tomorrow morning
and live their life
and do what comes naturally
simon's a good guy, really
i know he means well, at least
he just sometimes struggles with the life you all share with him
he sees a lot of truth in this world
and therefore the absurdity can frustrate
and break him apart
he's a good guy
and never wants to hurt any of you
that, im sure
anyway, im sure i'll see him again
but tomorrow morning i'll be guiding someone else
and simon lawlor will mean nothing to me
at the slight, slight chance i do encounter him again
i'm sure existence has some instinctive way of reminding
and connecting us
that we were both once touched by god simultaneously
an unknown
unquestionable connection between two people
mutually accepted
before moving on

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Thirty-Seven

i have nothing to argue about - i am wise to my head mutterings and more often than not, accept them for what they are - and when i don't, when i take them up to the country town dance hall all late tuesday night, and admit my faults and mistakes the only way you can outside a country town dance all early on a wednesday morning - the cold morning air at first taste, as the black sky becomes dark blue and the miserable birds sing their songs, unaware of just how fucking hot it's going to get later on - up above, a young woman reads a book entitled "lonely planet" as the man next to her drinks a scotch and coke and imagines having sex with her - especially cunnilingus - she's flying away and reading up on far off distant lands, and thinking about how she's going to describe it to all her friends and co-workers - she better be quick - she's only got two weeks holiday, and two minutes before he makes his move

i leave the town at dawn, leave massive amounts of evidence of my visit behind - graffiti, annotated library books, tampered newspapers, murder scenes - every tree i pass by is dead or dying - long flaking branches block ever path i dare to take - some stretching seven, eight, ten kilometres in length - silences makes memories scream, but this sounded much like a nightmare to me - screaming winds and the trees, i swear, the laughed at me as they collapsed, succumbing to their torture

down below, the ants and grubs and creepy-crawlies make this world one ball-mass of rotting spaghetti sex, death and the endless instinctive drive towards self-preservation - to be remembered by the following fools - to be remembered by idiots - i only want to be remembered by the people i love, admire, and kill - i only want to love the dead and speak to them - hear from them and learn - i have nothing to argue for the dead speak to me, they speak for me - nothing wins against death - no word play, no confidence - empowered by a slack shrug of the shoulders, a laugh in the form of a quick breath out of the nostrils - and a turn and meander as i move on into the true, actual, realistic void

eventually a man appears out of the absurdity - sitting surrounded by the dead autumn oranges, reds and yellows - he has a large bulky army jacket on - worn and holy, the jacket looks older than i am - he however has no-one to pass his bottle to
"hello"
"hello"
"what are you doing?"
"i'm not doing"
"hello"

seagulls soon, somehow too delicate to be scavenges - that is until they transform, melt their innocence in kaars and korws - my heart beats itself to death - a phone call from home reminds me of myself at this very moment, having long forgotten where i came from and why i was brought into this life

she pushes her face against the glass screen, like violence without the violence before a crowd of thousands - phones ring constantly from thousands of different phones - judgement day is her primetime profession - the fat, the ugly, the simple, the stupid - consumed by thought free lifestyles - blind to the manipulation that has devoured their whole existence, and obliviously the carry on with their lives

perhaps i should've told him - perhaps i should've offered some help - his bottle is now long-gone-and-empty and his existence a distance memory waiting patiently on death-row - his last meal was a needle in the arm - his first meal much the same - i take a look at the world around me, knowing from here on in, he'll have no idea what's going on - if his mother was to die tomorrow, he'll be none-the-wiser - his death propels my life into importance like a meteor feeling first friction against my atmosphere - adrenalin pumps like sex through my body and im charged and laughing in giant leaps and glides that make - great - time - the stars drip and smear as my speed, my awareness slows this world down

but nothing can ever last for such a small amount of time - squatting like my brothers in evolution, my fire burns a dull slow burn, and im slowly drifted inwards into a sad realisation that it wasn't a meteor at all - it never was - instead of my grand life and times, it was nothing but a falling, crashing, flaming aeroplane the whole time - falling slowly to earth - i just never knew it - i just never noticed