very late response to COP15

The overwhelming difference from the Berlin “militance”, I’ve recently been surrounded by to the largely UK and US pacifism, particularly regarding repression and police brutality, left me frustrated. There was certain commitment lacking from a lot of people, I think from the separation in them between their daily lifestyle and causes of their activism. I felt like big opportunities were missed where stronger demo reactions could have made a big impact in the direct actions, which I thought were all hard hitting and appropriate. It was obvious that the police would be heavy handed. Each of the demos advertised an illegal action; block the harbour, break into the ministry of defence, storm the Bella Centre etc so it was no wonder there were mass “preventative” arrests, especially seeing as in the run up to the summit new laws were rushed through to make it more possible to do so. At first I was angry that it had all been so obvious. In Berlin it would have been all-out-chaos, complete with burning cars, mass incarceration and hospitalized police. But is that any better? In having a lasting impression, I think not. I like the idea of transparency and being open about doing a mass direct action, but if you go down that road, you still have to have a powerful block of people, committed to following it through. As it turned out, the police mostly succeeded in controlling the demos and aside from a few brave breakthroughs, reminding us that the cops are not impenetrable, the week of actions gave across a pretty weak message: the term “climate justice” being waved around like a worthless token of consensus within the scene. What do we want? Something vague and unattainable! When do we want it? We don’t know, it’s more of an existential utopia kind of thing! Something more concrete would have been nice… resignations of CEOs, abolition of laws, demanding the introduction of specific human rights etc etc … sometimes it’s all so daunting and bleak I have to accept the truth in this quote: “in the fight between you and the world; back the world” – frank zappa

smoking propaganda

i strike up a match, holding fire in my hands like prometheus,
and rest it at the end of my cigarette, anticipating the crisp
crackle of burning tobacco.

and then like magic, that levitating thick blue wisp,
more elegant than any mammalian movement,
at first rising from the cherry in slow spirals,
then augmenting as it fractures in the current of my breath.
i watch the fractal patterns; whirling more and more chaotic
until final dispersal into the air; hypnotic.

how i pucker for that first drag!
momentarily fulfilling all my bodily and spiritual needs.
the slightest moisture, binding paper to my lip.
savouring the flavour as smoke ripples through the tip.

i part my mouth and slip it in, once more,
tentatively sucking between fingers,
intimately allowing the flow of vapour into my lungs.
deep deep deep inside.
then slowly, halos - exhaled, slide towards heaven, but never make it.

but at night is best, cherries, glowing, in the dark,
with the flare of something alive.
with the power to burn and scar.

a relic i found in the vault.... (best by date: 08.08.08)

far too late, far too vetted, trying to feed a dying cat, most loneley, waiting for a call. oh your god, im gonna fall awake here at the, wheel some night in shining amour po-lice call me n give me a brrrreak from this awe-full/or-fuel keybored!? the kit-kat is driving me round the bend over the cliff. she wants more fucking petting. always. i saw by the sodium sea we'd like to drink, there's a horny beach. satansporn with fur and a pur. me:ow. i wish i could wife swap her around for a tik-tak. i wish i was minted. 0121441XXXX - this is my number laid ease and gentile men. butter doubt NE1 will call a lonely housewife like myshelfish, though i wish ya would coz there's no place like home. tsh! and psh! and i don't believing in magic ways anyways. HISS and BOOO who am i talking twit-twoo, to who, anyway? and yes, i am, off and on: my head and drugs. like hugs from a million bugs with double barrel names. 2 blocked noses, and a pocket full of posers. i disused, a tissue, i all fall down. fuck nose what i'm on. about. i need to blow my knows again and again and again. pass the parcel. ring-a-ring of [STD's] rows of pricks - ribbed and then robbed of robes. won't won off ewe p-lease release a ring-a-dingaling 'n' bring alil' linguisitics to this coven of cacoughanous confusion? alone and self pleasin' till sneazin'. rhymin' without timin', like a broken hymn (amen (and women)); like a broken hymen. i'm in dire need of medical at10tion all passengers... i need help back on the merry what goes around, comes around, coz i fell off 2 (prison) sentences ago. through the window a brick-a-brack it((( ()()()lovely eggs, which came first? yokel folk did, clearly, coz im Celibate from Virginia in the UnUnited States of America, so let's all celebrate the celebrity status of Virginia. YAY-YAY-USA!!!! us r A-OK-K-K ,,,K? sum1+1 had better shoot me up with a tranquil-laser darting all over the plaice B4 this H8 gets any softer and turns to dust to dust like charcoal. lemme juice pencil that in. ...and i'm out (of it)

my many smells

dead fish, badly aimed piss, wet dogs, nose-bleed inducing BO, open sewers, nob cheese, stale milk, dumpster juice, musky dust, dad's feet, farts, cabbage curry, ashed-in beer, old bong water, damp clothes... you name it, there is a crevice of my body to match the odor. there was a woman on a crowded tram a few days ago who had the misfortune of standing next to me after i had just run for the tram. needless to say, the sweat from running for the tram and the dirt from weeks of not showering and wearing the same socks and underwear combined to resurect all the unholy stenches lurking about my body and clothes. the poor lady literally had to bend her neck back in disgust as i took my place next to her, later proceeding to (politely as possible) cover her nose with her jacket. after a minute or so she began coughing violently and screwing her eyes, leaning as far away from me as possible, and finally, left the tram gagging and wretching as she pushed her way through the crowd. i mean, i like to think the girl had some kind of nervous condition, forcing her into paranoid delusions that she need cover her face in public in oder to avoid the miasma or some such idiocy, but frankly i think i have to accept admition of nasaly traumatising an innocent woman. furthermore i have some kind of pseudocamouflage semi-permanent tatoo all over my body from where the sweat has dribbled through the dirt, leaving tributaries of lighter tones behind. sometimes i cross my legs and dislodge an ancient fart, fossilised in the folds of my crotch, now let loose like pandoras box to once again terrorise the local population. this morning i coughed up a globule of slime the size of my big toe. i peered down at it, still wibbling a little from the force of the ejaculation. my analysis: opaque yellow, with speckled blotches of tampon brown: not so healthy. my leprous feet also, are slowly rotting away, large chunks of which now tend to come off when giving in to an itch. soon i believe my whole body will have reached the point of disintegration, thus becoming one with earth's eternal compost.