Friday, August 21, 2015

View from the Treetops ~ 21 Aug 15

And I think to myself...

Cuntchester ~ Pisces Iscariot

...what a wonderful world.


Kick out the Jams

This is either a tiny contribution to the anti-capitalist ethos or evidence of a frugal protestant state of mind (Perhaps there is little difference).
I don’t remember them when they were new, don’t remember buying then, it’s quite possible they were a gift from M - she does that sort of thing.
Somewhere along the line they became functional, used not as a fashion statement (if that’s what they ever were) but as working-around-the-house shoes.
Sometime later their duties came to include summer cycling, and they never complained about the added burden.
If I’m not mistaken, while continuing to perform their working-around-the-house duties, they have survived three summers of cycling pleasure.
Some days ago I came to realise that wearing them was only a small step from going barefoot so today I got me some new ones.
Farewell old friends, you’ve lived a good life.


Leftfield ~ Little Fish

Friday, July 31, 2015

Between Action and Deed There are No Words

Creature Fear ~ Korinne Bisig

And with pearl fingertips that shiver just so, unpicks the myriad buttons on the brocade front of the night’s yellow dress.
Into your arms: a question that cannot be asked in the wanting vacuum.
And your breath beneath, bated, barely contained within the cage of your breast, cannot sustain this lucid moment, cannot but anticipate the aftermath and the intimate removal of fabricated barriers, man-made and then unmade, a future undone.
Into your womb: an answer that cannot be mouthed in the liquid drowning.
And this is who you are, beneath all the words, beneath the layers of paint applied before the mind’s mirror, beneath the thin skin of superimposed reality, between the folds of time that enclose you, behold you – never to be repeated in the cold light of day.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Quote Me

A Thorn Amongst Roses ~ Photo by Pisces Iscariot

"Bureaucracy is a giant mechanism operated by pygmies."
Honore de Balzac

"Bureaucracy is the international language of Incompetents"
Pisces Iscariot

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Post Traumatic Special Delivery

Billy ripped the page from Phoebe's notebook, let’s face it, he thought, nobody’s ever gonna know; it’s not like anyone gives a shit anyway.
The thumb-start on his faux-retro maglev Hyundai Sinner worked eventually; whacking crackle into the alleyway like some zombie bad lung trauma, and he cranked it into the high street as if he hadn’t already used up eight of his nine lives.
The bipolar traffic honked resentment at his door-handle-testicle-tangling progress through the unsynchronised mind-fuck that posed itself as progress (a political viewpoint that proclaims anyone arguing with its singular premise can go fuck themselves with their left-wing anarcho-socialist values).
Billy ripped the last of his credit from the slipstream of the late-running 5:37 from Hell as it side-swiped its comatose commuter cargo into a sad resemblance of awareness, hoping that the sling-shot momentum thus gained would serve to deliver the message Phoebe’d so recently, and so desperately, scrawled upon the feint of her jealously guarded, preciously teetering-on–the-brink-of-extinction, notebook.

Tales for the attention-span deficit reader