Removal Men

So we’ve all become removal men
In a paradox of piety,
Lugging a terrible indigestion
From priesthood to the laity

Forgetful between memories –

These riderless serotonin ponies,
A permanganate moon,
Reading the biography of President Judas Shitblister.
Mental Gnu, is it you?

So, come and help me with this box -
I packed our finest anhedonia
In bubble-wrap and newspaper,
To guard against damage in transit;
Left no gaps in the space-time foam
Through which the diamond way can reach us
The duct tape cornering sees to that,
The mouth is sealed that would drink all pleasures
And all pleasures are of the mouth.

So we’re boxing clever with our brain tusks,
No more unnatural than nuclear oven-husks
Or the Buddhism of wolves in winter.


Three black crow chicks
Fallen from the wall
Parents on the battlements fly
Shrieking through the hall
The long drop
Abrupt stop
A quick flight made of lies
Woven to the weft of wind
Now hunker down blind

One a feast table for flies
One a feathered fear-ball
One eyelesssly pecked up by chickens –
The stuff of gentle disturbance
White nightmares.

So help me lift this box -
Our pantechnicon arrives
To carry our atavism down the road of bones,
Our gigadeath bow-shock wave going on before
Under crossed eyes and besmirched law

Stateless at last




KH – 13th June 06