STARDUST

 

We sometimes miss the stars for the blinding lights;
The bleeding, broken air that soaks us – that steals us away.

We miss the stars while we’re shooting in the shallows -
Rushing for all that is short and sweet.

We sometimes miss the stars for daydreams;
As we drift past the moon with our eyes closed – Dying in the darkness of the imaginary.

We miss the stars for fear and second-guessing.
So unsure of ourselves.
So afraid of life, that we let almost nothing in.

Then, in our final flirt with magic;
Our last dance before the moon;
We will be missed, before the twilight - Turn to stardust… before we’re seen.

 

NK

KICK

KICK:

Bang!  Bang!   Bang bang!
Boot. Whack. Smack attack.
Kick.

Kid comes back, bright eyes and bushy tail, asking for a pardon.
Well excuse I… Apologies I… I’m sorry, I… I’m so very sorry ,I…
Sick.

Bang up! Smack down! Jab jab jab!
Juice up… loosen up… dope out – mope about.
Kick.

Cough cough! Splutter splutter!
Doctor Doctor, check her clacker… What’s the matter?
That meat looks green. Quite obscene. Nothing like I’ve ever seen.
Sick.

Jack up! Smash up! Smack down!
Ground. Pound. Pop her…. split her.    Prick.!
Kick.

Scripts from the doctor.
Dose up. Double up. Dope out.
Dead.

nk | 1204

JUST RUN

JUST RUN

Run. Race. Run run run.
Never a pleasure. Never any fun.
Forget your things – they’ll see you dead.
Forget your friends – they’ll shoot you in the head.
Just run. Race. Runaway fast.
Just flee; just fly. Fly fly fly!
Fidget and fumble – weak at the knees.
Fragility has hold of you; got you frenzied… got you freezed.

Fly away pussy cat – can’t stop here!
Heal toe, heal toe; Faster, friend, please!
Unpack your pockets. Get rid of those coins.
For they’ll see you trouble, they’ll see you trapped;
They’ll see an arrow… straight through your back.
Brace yourself. Race. Run; ride; peddle.
Never any peace. Never time to settle.

Not a time to ‘tap tap tap’;
The train is leaving – don’t look back.
So run, race quick;
And drop that filthy cigarette, and put down that fucking stick!
Don’t let them catch you.
Don’t let them see that you’re sick.

nk

DELICIOUS / INSANE

A Late Night Editorial  [1st Edition] Written by Dr. Susie I.V Crockashit

‘Party pash’. Those are the words splashing off the tartlets of today’s modern world. Gone are the days of ‘flash ya gash’ - Even the famous ‘cunt face’ action has been replaced with this festive lingo, spoken by more than two billion muscle-hungry, horny young party pretties, from all over the world. The lustrous lady who kicked started this famous ‘lets get face-fucked tonight’ manner of fraternizing, is known only as, Paulie Delicious. Perfectly described in Disco-Diaries 45 (a broadcast of network 69) as delightfully decadent, desktop-sexy, and strange, strange, strange!

But perhaps there’s more to this party-pasher-people-eater than meets the eye. While worshiped by coked-up biscuit babies, Rumors are flooding porn sites to political journals, that Party-Pash Paulie is an international Anti-packist – in alliance with ‘The Pack-Out People’ and Real-Time Rebel Leader, Ivan Insane. Insane is believed by many to possess the power to speak to and negotiate with, gremlin grid-riders. Although this has neither been proven nor dismissed – The Radical Leader has been named as the worlds most wacked-out weirdo to ever walk the earth. Ivan Insane is currently wanted in all 7 states, for crimes relating to security threats to agencies of Chinese Political Science.

To be continued…

I’D LIKE TO BE LEFT SMILING

1106 nk
They’re Coming For Me:
‘I’d Like To Be Left Smiling’

Either there are voices in my head; or I know too much. The channels are too clear – This is not what most people hear. And they would call me crazy if I were to claim as such.
A rarity they are not ready for.
Well I am not ready for their ridicule and ridiculous ignorance.
They’re coming for me.
I imagine the inside of my head – just underneath my skull – to be a dark, grim, perverted wasteland. Dense and sticky. I’m standing right in the middle of it now. Not a nightmare that I wouldn’t rather be awake in, at this very moment. There is not a morning coming. I cannot pinch myself. There are no rules to this. This terror. This torturous horror. I should have my head.. before I am beheaded of this.

—

In the company of others – I stay in the soft shallow, of my mind. Always being pulled back to the outer edges – it is only unaccompanied that I escape to the eerie depths of desolate brain matter; the bowel of my mind.
Why would I freely meander this way.?
Why would I flee to this wasteland?
Why do I want it.?

I feel I’m in a sort of.. rip. Drifting further and further away; getting evermore weary as I try to struggle against the speed that takes me.
And yet, as my panic rises with the rushing seas in which I’m spinning, I know that i’ll be spat out somewhere; at some time. I won’t be swallowed. I won’t suffocate; I won’t sink. I am sure of this. But still, I am wide-eyed and frozen. Afraid of the fall; of what is only a flash of semi-ficticious consciousness, being performed for your very own, petrifying pleasure.

—-

I am undone. Still un-doing. Silently screaming; shaking; spinning; scratching at my skin and at my soul.
So long!

These punishments – I pace like a pulsating pilgrimage – aren’t even my order. They are not my offering. Obscene. Political. A punch in the throat with theoretical truths – breathlessly bullied.
Torn from today by all those who fear to whisper. Instead.. walking freely off their tongue.
I trust no one.

—–

Show me indulgence. Show me involvement. Show me more! Give me animated. Give me loud. I’d like to be left smiling. A sneaky little cheek… perched on it’s bone – teeth bared, belly in stitches, and sweet.. salty tears, creeping their way ‘round crackling… cackling… crevices of laughter. [Oh.... I love to love!]. Meanwhile, urine urges a surge most desperately – and thus comes the dancing; the fancy foot-work; the interpretive contortion; the liquid gold – getting away from my shoe.

 

norah kay | 1107