Wednesday, 18 July 2012


its easy to feel important when there is nothing else left,
the vacuum you have surrounded yourself with
has left you intellectually bereft
when frankly it is easy to be the best,
when you think of only the things you have said.

A blip in creation,
mattering only
in your imagination
reciting information
and self deification.
one of many examples
in a pseudo-social nation.

A egg that has gone unhatched
believing its wings have flapped
an opinion is only a fact, when you are
to ignorant to realise that:

you haven't proved a single thing
a vacant lot doesn't need a king

a microwave is whirring and cooking up your thoughts
and like a single pounds lasagne is wasn't worth being bought
except maybe for the warmth, but that is short lived,
because the plastic certainly gives a shape
but it doesn't insulate.

an unseasoned sauce is a very bland indeed
and won't taste nice when absorbed through greed
another thing you didnt need.

Thursday, 12 July 2012

smiling at the window and yawning towards the door,
the cars bright headlights made my eyes sore.
the long nights of being a trucker were intense and full of deep thought
also, there wasn't a bit of pornography that I hadn't bought,
from the A1 Adult Superstore.

Its a fantastic break from the hum drum of the motorway,
I can browse the compilations of various adult stars
and really get stuck into deciding what kind of porn suits me best.

I like it pretty straight forward. not too complicated,
just something going into something, thats all I really need,
either that or robots. like sex robots.
maybe it is being in vehicles (my articulated lorry) for so many hours,
which causes me to have this  leaning towards automatons and machines.

I don't worry too much, i've never tried to stick my pecker in a car,
i just get off on women acting like them.

Techno was about to happen

Techno was about to happen and the eighties was really just quite great,
our self inflated egos kept building to decide our fates.
our penis casts and syncopated bass lines became our ideals
our songs were motors running, with no one behind the wheels.

he was good with the chords,
and i used to be a choir boy
we thought we were
so much cooler than monogamy,
rock stars with tambourines and
vanity out of your league

the vaginas of our fans were seas
and our dicks were massive pink ships
everything else we ever did
was complete shit

apart from girls on film