Ongoing sporadic journal of the overeducated, and underemployed. The title derived from Coupland’s description of cubicle land; the corporate ghetto. Random photos and thoughts. Left the ghetto, never happier. This still a work in progress

30 November 2015

30.11.15-seraph
some 
say 
she 
was
a warning
some
say
a
sign
some 
prophecy

some 
say
from
heaven
some 
say
Berlin
Think
A pale rose
Kissed by 
African sun
I was 
There
when
She sang
I couldn’t 
Understands
felt it from inside
The skies
Turned to
 Pollock’s 
Convergence
Picasso
Les demoiselles d'avignon
I was told
To
Mobilise
Desolation Angels
To initiate
ritual
spoons
Chalices
I was told
demons, and vampyres
riders 
of
apocalypse
I was told

that
you’re
salvation
I was told
You’re seraph

29 November 2015

29.11.15-magic
you’ve forgotten
and it’s sad
your magic
miraculous
mix 
many gifts
beauty
light
conceiving
old soul
fledgling incarnation
sensual friend
sultry lover
when 
a
callous despot
obscures
radiance
I see it
Your magic

28 November 2015

28.11.15 -dive
Buried in the rain
I light a 
Gitane
Suaza
Straight
White powder on tan breast  
Numb
face
numb 
body
Soul
screams
she
Writhes 

Do you feel
Like we do
I don’t feel

28.11.15- suicide
suicide
I hear 
The shotgun
Smell 
Gunpowder
Taste 
Blood
Feel
Desperation 
feel
Loneliness
Anger
Without focus
Suicide 
Anger
 turned inward
Buried in the
Rain
Angry, sad
Forever ghost
Suicide always 
Haunts


27 November 2015

27.11.13-desolation angels
How many times have I walked these
rainy
cold
dirty
streets
in this ancient
city
a few
fortnights
with
Valkyrie
before
vampyre
a wake  of desolation angels
junk sick
gorgeous
armed
guitars
drums
spikes
voices
anger
look closely
desolation angels
roam



26.11.15 dreams and angels
dreaming
walking
the 
grey 
concrete canyons
of 
Mitte
Me  angel close
Warm 
Her wings holding 
me
Breathing cartoon balloons
Stopping
Coffee
Cocktail
Snog
DREAM
Loving  
Out loud
Me
ANGEL
Is a 
DREAM



25 November 2015

25.11.15-light blue eyes
I look into your light blue eyes
you make  feel so sad
you make feel so glad
lately you just make feel so  me numb
I look into your light blue eyes 
you make feel so dumb
tonight 
you resuscitate me
laying next to me
lying to me
your light blue eyes 
you make me feel so alive




24 November 2015

24.11.15-Words
exploding like a burst from an Uzi
aftershocks’
hang in the air 
now choose
carefully
because
in the end 
the power
to
destroy
is equal
to 
the power 
to
create
your 
words 
will
decide 
what
I
Do
Words are more, than words

24.11.15 rumour’s
take every nasty thing 
you’ve heard
multiply
1010
you’re  
still not close
I am  
The demon
The vampyre
They 
Say
Those who know
Won’t
Or
Can’t say
Your rumours aren’t dark enough

23 November 2015

23.11.15-miracle
paint always on your 
hands 
feet
in your hair
its in your blood
vivid 
colours
passionate
colours
a kiss

an embrace
I realize
Beneath the paint
Vivid
Passionate
Beautiful
miracle

22 November 2015

22.11.15-paint
I awake
Paint 
on me  sheets
on me hands
HER
Me willing prisoner
The  ancient one
Protest
Until 
Silenced
miracle  
with paint
staining
me sheets
me soul
paint




20 November 2015

20.11.15 discarded
born
dots
meant
to
connect
pale blue eyes
your dot
beat to  mine
stronger
as 
one
you
found 
me
discarded
delivered
me 
your dot
called mine
SEX
TRUTH
LOVE
ONE






18 November 2015

18.11.15 holy
Holy holy ecstasy
Holy writhing 
Holy holy
Bed
Holy 
Sacraments
your body s chalice
drunk
it’s sacramental wine
devouring the 
host
that I 
may complete this 
holy 
Communion
with
my 
Holy whore
perfect
immaculate 
grace

17 November 2015

17.11.15 Succubus
underground 
through a gaze filtered 
by gin,  purple smoke
you’re a sirens call
I cannot refuse
all I have
is 
a drink
and smoke
you should be in my 
bed
wanton and shameless
taking and giving  pleasure
dare I presume
love
instead
my bed made up 
in resplendent
clean comfortable smiling like 
a thousand  clowns
secretly sad and empty
missing 
your blue eyes

16 November 2015

Good Morning Good Bye
I awake like Martin Sheen in” Apocalypse Now” staring at the ceiling fan. Wondering where I was, It looks like an inner loop rental. Hardwoods , ancient. The bed is so comfortable I could lay here all day . I need to get out of this bed, but she wrapped around my waist. Long blonde hair across my stomach. I look at her body indeed weapons grade long legs small firm breasts flat stomach leading to a blonde landing strip. An actual natural blonde.   I know she’s a single mother my clothes are laid into a flat bloke. If I lay still she might  not  wake up.
Hazy memories  from last night. The tall, thin, blonde at the bar noticing each other. Noticing each other the ancient contract being invocated. I walked over some wanker who wouldn’t shut the fuck up, then dropping him. Leaving the bar quickly. I will gave to apologise to owner to be let back in. I will work up an act of contrition, “I am sorry, I glassed, that wanker, and promise not to do it again.”  Her place fevered undressing no conversation other than lets try…,  contortions   of petites morts  rolling  across her across her face., some porn star moans. Playing then asleep.
I need to use all my skills to get out of bed. I must get to the bathroom. I slowly slide off the bed onto the floor . I wish I could get my shades from my jacket, it is unreasonably  bright. My head is pounding . I try to quiet as possible brushing my teeth with my finger.
I flush there’s a knock at the door , and she says  Towels under the sink  by, shampoo , soap in the shower,  the way my name is Lyric.”
“Thank you, I am Jay. I am going to pillage your soap and shampoo” I answer I climb into the claw tube and close shower curtain. I get the water right shampooing my hair. I feel something open eyes to see Lyric  in with me.. We wash each other wordlessly, and then towel each other dry. She leads  I go to bedroom I smell coffee. I hold my towel and walk to my clothes. Watching her climb into and hoodie.
I follow her to the table. I  sit and she  goes to counter starts  getting cups
Lyric looks over her shoulder, and says’, “How do you take it?”
“Black and proud”” I answer. I start to rap out a cigarette, and
Lyric said no smoke in here lets go on the porch. I put on shades and follow. Lyric makes small talk. While I smoke. I wait a polite interval, and  say ,”Lyric I have a few things.””
Wait one minute Lyric runs inside comes back.  With a cup hands to me and tucks a slip of [paper into my pocket, and
Says’ “keep the cup” giving me  a small kiss . I walk to my car the number falls’ out. I don’t stop to pick it up.
I get in my car lower window’s and say “Good morning , good bye!” I drive towards my flat, without looking back






15 November 2015

15.11.15- Ride 
you’re not strong enough for 
this
don’t 
come to me 
from the edge 
of 
death
dreaming 
on
his tired old voice
your  slavery 
is not 
freedom
it is 
slavery
weakness 
is just weakness
telling  me you love 
me
begging him
deception
telling me you love 
me
bailing as I bury 
my tovaritch
is
cowardice
telling me you
love me
not acting
weak
que vous me dire
que tu me aimes
penser ce poème est sur vous 
est faible
you’re not strong enough 
for 
this ride



14.11. 15 vandal
in the pub  a mating tango of 
sultry glances breathless whispers
fervent exploration
a kiss that heated up a chilly evening
Scratches down my back
you tagged me
commemorating
a shared night
marking the limits of your territory
I have been attacked
a leggy
love vandal




14 November 2015

14.11.15  ashes
Ashes to ashes 
dust to dust 

hey ignored you in life 
in death 
they 
are erasing you
sticking
in
me 
throat
biting back rage
tossing 
back
gin
feeling you strong
one in 
the 
chamber
on 
the other side
my brother
on the other
side!

13 November 2015

13.11.15under observation
 on refugees
Autistic clowns
Paris is on Fire
Heart sick detox
Heaven and hell
A junkie pagans
Belle de jour OD's
I put needle my neck
Pain bleeds out
Shadows watch every move
Bipolar cyborgs carry the tales
Back to the minders

12 November 2015

13.11.15-moon
staring at the moon
 blowing too much  purple smoke
staring at the moon
too much  gin 
staring at the moon
hating myself
staring at the moon
why did it mean too much to me to mean too little to you
staring at the moon
listening  industrial and blues
too much of this 
too little of you
staring at the moon
stringing together misspelled words
staring at moon
Seeing our  future memories dissolving
Staring at the moon