flightSchool v2
hiya
hey
shall we
sightsee
c’mon
let’s lift off
h pad
snowcaps
look like cersei
look like sweet cream
fly like kirby
over ibex
climb kings
(salt fiends)
up here
seas look like streams
cloud cushions split beams
kite high
warp speed
wrap your wings
’round me
energy
between 2
worlds
between blue
ff7 map view
scrap book
fragments
glue
*achooo*
supreme math
supreme energy
build/destroy
an 8
on the side
like infinity
or
2 enso symbols
zen symmetry
or
2 spinning plates
with a supermodel waist
likely to give way
under enough torque
given enough days
well…
so much time
so much air
went stale
but
before we split cells
draw that line
like olympia hotel
humour a chap
1 more lap
a night cap
to tickle entrails
tears turn to hail
size of snail shells
rip skin chunks
leave scars like braille
well…
well.
untitled, unfinished, 2023 (3)
untitled
2023
magnesium, l-theanine
perk slots tailored
deathmatch
fight splintered sleep
amino acid/aim assist
v.
scalpel heel/hostel scenes
frazzled dopamine
casualty
down bad, like d-pad
‘get over here’
whoopsie/flawless/brutality
***’notha year prolapses
tryna cycle off
nicotine patches***
nyquil, on silent hill
blood in my eye/blood on my quill
black mould spots on the windowsill
dream defence contractor
equip overkill
r1/map zoom/ping exfil
<<<<<rewind
reversed patterns
night crimes
battleship
coordinate lines
scattered like snake shot
scattered like mines
on dmz perimeter lines
‘blue screen fiend’
flaked
daybreak
dawn raid
pass out to podcasts
pink matter purée/grey matter whiplash
bluetooth headphone pads
detach like hubcaps
on hardy’s transit van
falling backwards
60x slowed
splashes
see it
you see?
food for the sea
drown in uhd
a dream within a dream
what does it all mean?
codes in the clouds
like that flappy eared
flying white beast
from neverending story.
why is this tree bleeding?
drinking palm blood
out of boiled glass
no label
used a 1000 times
thinking
will the sea eat tuvalu
fish fly
like megabats
like foxes
askew horseshoe angles
up and down
breaking azure
targets for marlins
before ghouls came
and erased animism
we knew travel
anyway
canoes between the dots
of our universe
an evening meal
capsicums
lime acid cooked shrimp
rice
with hands
food
family
pure sand
smiles
before sleep
i pray
when my son
runs headfirst into hell
for opportunities
he retains
his island heart.
nikko
room, to dream
big snooze
like dormouse
curled
prehensile tail
tale older than braille
tale older than crucifix nails
’never get better
IF
you never leave the house’
there’s only so many summers
a billion blessings
outside
like petals
straight edge
no meds
some regrets
though, they sting less
outside
’til the sun sets
jaguar in a pool
cool off
spots melt into blue
outside
answer to
what’s next
can’t be found
in a web order dna test
might be
in the canopy
amongst singsong
eggs
and nests
there’s only so many summers
brambles
with berries
different colours
different days
lady duck brigade
beaks tucked
in the shade
chillin’
walking around water
thinking how messed up angling is
a fish, going about their daily business
stabbed in the lip
a land-walker gurning on an iPhone snap
with their catch
watch it squirm
watch it flap
struggle to breathe
scar it mentally
then set it free
don’t believe
in the internet
or
ready
set
credit score
or gender wars
or voting
or a career
or none of that
low-frequency
nonsense
no more
outside
there’s only so many summers.
bonusTrack.4
sixteenth
january
twenty
seventeen
envelope
(misanthrope)
redundancy
“rewind that…”
late
september
twenty
eleven
nostalgia ultra
sony mp3
cracked screen
cross-country
every little thing
on the back seat
crockery
stereo
two pairs of jeans
old nike sbs on my feet
(with the bubble heel)
overdrawn
oldest kid
on the graduate scheme
five point five
went by
time to leave
“good luck”
“don’t need luck”
nice exit speech, chief
forget it
dead it
roll credits
new frank era
obsessed with futura free
kept playing it on repeat
couldn’t see
honey for bees
just writhing colonies
truthfully
colleagueZ iZ alwayZ fleaZ
spines of others
as seats
feed n’ breed
micro-dynasties
thirty, in a dirty house share
primark sheets
a fan/no fans
white noise for road noise
chilled breeze
exposed
comatose
hunched close
to a twenty-one inch tv
writing
rewriting
and rewriting my cv
rejected
dejected
screened
few calls with recruiters
lying ’bout experience
lying ’bout dreams
compass of necessity
what initially
felt like fair *bye-bye* money
burning down to zero
as opportunities
drifted further from reach
cancelled spotify plan
adverts in streams
aural insult to injury
gym days
half-hearted reps
no gains
wasting time
on the smith machine
(like a goofy newbie)
flows
prose
poetry
let some loose
into the wild
on most
hit delete
“might run away”
burn some weeks
on a beach
hide from reality
(just like it’s always been)
“sheesh”
months went by
like moths
new soundtrack: rain in england
lil b
…
end of a rainbow
fast forward six
comedown chorus
split seams
no i in team
can’t listen to joji
glimpse of us
makes my heart feel
like cartwheels
through japanese screens
…
memories
an old school scene
before pedestrianised streets
ifrit emits
a warrior scream
despite the scars
come so, so far
now yesterdays fee
ain’t todays fee
(you can’t afford me).
robin
more pain
more pain
more painful things
turn into paintings
tears wet
colour discs
on a palette
that were dried out
and crumbling
juice joins
dusty fissures
makes pigment bridges
hydrates bristles
feeds pictures
more pain
‘it’s the colouring that concerns me’
truth be told
more pain
summons rufio
lost boy
art studio
more pain
more pain
a molotov
for the person
that was
more pain
triple x pain
peter pain
cry like a cockerel
fly again
‘it’s not your fault’
when life serves unskippable ads
big sad
pull out a pad
sketch a draft
new neverland map
never doubt the fire
more pain.
honour, part 1
driving through
lotus fields
gps in japanese
real recognise real
a beautiful village
reflect
accept
consequences of actions
things that last
things that pass
things, split in half
shinto
zen
no complications
(track spend)
stripped back
don’t watch face
minimal shrines
pulp scriptures
reservoir logs
et, phone home
0800-honour-code
moshi moshi
atonement stumps
words become birds
become arc’teryx
black hair
pale skin
solace in tradition
close borders to
negative
degenerate
influence
no deals with the yakuza
no deals with lucifer
just a deal with the lord
to be better
to do better
to man up.
wordplay #2
nah baby
get lost
ain’t got nothing
i want
call me hollow
so what
married to money
deadeyes
deadheart
deathstream
don’t support
usury
got a problem
for copies
of a copy
of a dead monarch
married to money
if i did a documentary
on you
you’d be a fly
fighting to move
stuck with other flies
on a strip of glue
screaming about the ‘truth’
while your legs pop loose
1 for the dollars
2 for my pups
everything else
middle finger up
take a running jump
married to money
interactions turned fractions
traded human places
for polymer faces
for polymer cuts
stack it up
stack it up
stuff the mattress
pack the attic
covered in cash
lost every bond i never had
securing the bag
too much to carry
amor fati
bundles of fetti
run through racks
like tracks
out your feelings
out your head
out the red
for the bread
for the bands
until death
married to money
Loss
Been thinking ’bout loss
A lot
Over the last few decimals
Last few dots
Numerals spin like slots
On Ra’s wristwatch
Counting coins in pots
Taste like blood
Taste like aluminium
Look like POGs
3 cheers for what we got
For every ball: dropped
For every heart: stopped
For every wall: hopped
What is, is what’s what
Tha block iz hot
Zombies watch vlogs
Angels turn cogs
Transcending every box
Soar more, StarFox
Circle crops
Leave secret codes in treetops
Quest books, with multiple plots
Thumbed pages, propped
More soul than a whole skate-bowl full of Crocs
Flip your lid, kid
Flip your rock
With the force of a caber toss
Cock your bow
Cock your glock
Shoot your shots
Beautify holes with pretty, sticky gloss
Seminoles don’t roll over
Don’t sign treaties
Don’t call leech-ghoul-pagans boss
Never that
Forever not…
Been thinking ’bout loss
Quite a lot
Been thinking ’bout loss
Quite a lot
Remembering how to play organ
In this abandoned church
Covered in flowers
Covered in fire
Thanking GOD.
Life, in HD
On first name terms
With a small horse named Bonnie
By the park
She comes when I rattle the fence
Black with a white racing stripe
Hair anklets
And ilvaite eyes
She doesn’t seem to mind
The flies
Drawn to her pretty face
I feed her reduced carrots from Sainsbury’s
(20 pence)
I want to tell Bonnie, that recently, I’ve been questioning whether some of my memories actually came from reality
Or have bled into me
Through weird wires and dreams
Or intravenous icicles
Inception spears in the meat sphere
Basically
Been struggling to separate time and space, like church and state
Multiple mistakes exacerbate my tendency to conflate what’s real and what ain’t
A state
But she don’t wanna hear all that jazz
She just wants what’s in the bag
(So pop the plastic)
To be honest, I’m glad
It’s a waste of air being sad
Long live Bonnie
She’s the best
(Gon’ be aight, gon’ be aight)
X.