The Blood of a Poet (1931), dir. Jean Cocteau
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The Blood of a Poet (1931), dir. Jean Cocteau
20th July, 9 hrs, 21 mins, 23 seconds
I saw a photograph of the sun today
speckled imperfect, appeared etched into frame.
I saw the moon at mid-day
sat to my right like a disappointed friend
a table away at a restaurant
half-smiling, half-crying, half-oblivious.
staring still my eyes bore
into those little black spots
each an individual despair, a niggling.
yet there you always are
the warmth behind my eyes
brief pause in the terror of flight.
hands over my face, sheet over my head
I crane back to my friend to notice they’ve left.
I saw a photograph of the sun today
and all I could think of was the moon.
All Mouth
In this glistening black pain, I swallow myself blue
in Mnemosyne I stand a statue, shining from the falling rain
I forget my mother's face as I chew another--sun swallower.
Hot to the touch, transfiguration triptych
I bear no weight I crucify myself underneath sheets of black
shaking in time with the beat.
Nodding to nothing, eating my reflection
There is no weightlessness like that above the blood.
I slink a vibrating God, my secrets sheathed
I rattle, I glint, I know, I belong.
So below this burning crescent is nothing
but concrete heaven
and I can do nothing but smile.
July
In this great service of knowledge
lies the local focus, locust foire
and sits Jesus, the diesel babysitter.
Babygiver, lifeliver, lightning man
The great testament to pain
A true reflection of will.
Blessed by your wet surprise
we continue in nazi-like hubris
as if the world had not just ended.
Beset in penitence and mucous
that we were not given also
as sacrifice to your cruel father.
Cast out by your iron will
ruinate by the beloved
as you lain broken and open
by chance taken.
In absence of your violent guide,
we three oxidise.
And in leaving, being left
taken unfinished, your half
broken almost as you
on shoulders as emaciated
as those hung from the cross
your negation lay.
For 10 days you were dead
dead already.
Benevolent sack
I am given in this gift
Your thousand degree clean
your white becoming
& her burning breast.
Chicken
The sky is falling and I am Mr. 10% Man,
Preparing for cages.
Eye of the sands iron proof
Subtlety has died. The hate now in bold.
Cy love bleeds and my heart pierced as Christ’s side
Naked and inflamed.
Realising your piss stain and the lopsiding lipids.
I hold your head,
Hair greased between my teeth. Covered in you.
Hope lays within me
I am a lake, the other side
Unending hives of pretty questions marks
Will you play chicken with me?
The Fig Tree
It's my duty to fill your head with bubbles and wait for the collapse
To leave you stuck, red and swinging.
Fed to you in sleep, that low buzzing chatter
Denying it myself, the blackness of the future
Raise you up to see, the bleeding in the rain.
The cause of your pain, your cracking shame
A slave to your whims, growing only to hate.
The cold granite, a hot knife
Nylon squeezing the circumference
Water pruning the soles of your feet.
Sun shone through, the fig tree surrounding
a million lives die in your eyes, infinite in
shadows cast,
torn to shreds by the gentle swaying of the branches.
Miracle Amongst 1,000,000 Dead Stars
10,000 nameless graves
Amongst the wedged between
Your shining beacon hollow
and alone in the night
Empty stars athousand
Betwixt souls counted
More blinders than a horse
In sleep I sign of the cross
Fervent covenant surround
The black tongued, yellow bellied.
Blinking blue, red and green
Drowned out the names of old
The dizzying sickness of light
Skin pricked leaking your gas
100,000 nameless faces
Your shining growth intrusion
Bearing witness to your falsity
The demiurge adorn noose
Your tongue the trigger
My head the recreational vehicle.
God behind the veil thick as
smog as thieves, lie the blood
of innocent and human alike
One night amongst the burning lights
Amidst the gaseous doomhowl
You say one day you’ll want a child
and well,
I love you so.
New Development in a Dead World
The silvering tops of new homes
shiver in the December heat
The sounds of the beach bleached
bones anchored to reality the sick stench can be
overwhelming. In nature and the stinging nose.
The soft swaying of the trees in flicker, in ember,
let free.
The dust and ick of stitched earth and dry mouths,
cracked and crying. No water comes in the end
for your bellies have had their fill and spilled
the rest on the arid and languid ground.
This blood orange coma, this dusted doom
Dredging the heaving mass of fossilised native
blood to the surface only to be drowned in concrete –
they stand hooligan scalp amidst the inferno, oblique.
Cuticle dew, cut and squared off
No mouth no teeth in agony
We bleed while you
All smile no eyed no soul
As you
Take your domestic demolition
Claws to the dry ground, in rake.
Cerberus
hell as a dog's mouth
slobbering pain licked as
beach rain, bitten in love
drunken numb, gay in
absence, free. you immolate
religiously.
The Bolt Pistol
Thin skin and the unchanging power of
Embarrassment. The bloated greasing iron
And rubber traps smother my eyes and ears.
Shining grotesque falling inept
Through the white everburn.
I rise as sinew, supple and dumb.
To braise and raise the flesh
Against the coming storm.
Help me and I can help you, duplicitous
The bones amongst the rubble.
The storm will break and I weather the pain
Of this cotton blade.
The holy beading of sweat, only leaving
If kept. The great coils of love and fear
Superheat. I’m writing in ejaculate.
I’m writhing all the same. Your soft yelping
Bears my name and I am the lamb and
I am the bolt pistol.
Funeral
Smearing against the night
Wind raise wing; showing your empty
Your caved-in majesty, spoiled against hot rock;
Blazing daily commute.
Infinite empathy simplified
I beat myself against the glass
Always free, never leaving.
The pain of pleasure stand over
Defecate. Mottled in soil your
Aluminium crown, resistance of
Derision and control over soul.
Birdbath, check-engine light
Roadrash roadkill, I lay your meat
To rest abreast narrowing channels
Of sorrow.
Rich in Love
We’ll try again in the morning (it’s said)
That fatal noise shattering all the thoughts inside
Despite our closeness the price is still the same
So, I say leave the sun to the thief!
The moon, my chest too
Left lays my head, the ceramic plate.
Nestled beside this beautiful knife
Cursing the spring—praying for hail
Growing only in translation
Mentally I'm comparing caskets
While you yearn for children
To be children in the sun.
Afterimage afterall
You lightning scrimmage
Murderall, black’d sun
Tired of the questions impatient to the point
I cannot rate pain on a scale of 1-10
Crawling through the sewage, blocked again.
Whether the lantana cancers me
The dentist robs me anyway
Made to pay for the sins of the father
Sugar dissolves in the holes and the rest
is burning anyway--
I pay my debts; I pay them.
I have experienced the death of things before
and survived.
Fathoms
It was the same thing truly, to be split in two
The function of the device to keep on ending everything, forever.
I remember very little of those oval shaped voids
but the smell of wax and the clicking of nails.
Just move! Crashing all around, love came late
and love came little. Piddling effort.
My hands tweedle dee, my lungs slowly sucked inwards
My blue light, your red eye. Running on suicide.
So it goes so I lay there. Sweating.
I give over to the thousand eyed asthma
The living edema, the bursting fissure
The crimson weight of collective sin.
Take me apart piece by flesh
Craned up to the iron gate
Of your burning love, flat in time.
974
In slobbering apnoea
Hanging beneath the golden gate
Turning slowly, very slowly
Blue in the wavering moonlight.
Human bender reciprocal revenge
Cleansed in the fire of this electric life
Sheening mottled skin, popping at the seams
Gleaming all mouth, pierced on display.
Sheer stinking majesty—caught in 4k
The biting cold now a kiss
Manufactured heat, everywhere exploding hints
I am golden now, I am home.
Human breaker liturgy
Breathing weeds and cough smoke
Black as pitch—crawling in love
Neck bent against the salted breeze.
Freezing life love and let die
Lie all the pretty boxes, encased in amber
Spinning beneath god’s feet.
i see u in a crowded room
your glowing blonde miasma
you blood red cut, wan shine against
fluorescent light, wet with guilt.
glittering soul I breathe in
your distance, obliterated memory
reaching inside of you to taste.
golden magnet, shameful lustre
bling age gilding, smell just like
cotton candy,
taste just like pennies.