Tag: field reports

insect void delta no.3

apocalyptic fever dreams in the psychotropic delta… insect void… centipedes across the skin… poisoned fruit dripping… rotten spores in lungs and throats… wilting roses line the temple corridors… watch the madmen howl and scream, claw at their own flesh… watch them hack themselves to bloody death…

following the stagnant pools and molasses rivers upstream… blood-oranges dipped in angel teeth… weapons dipped in fever-breaths… paranoid hallucinations of external morphology… marauders talk in vile tongues… waking nightmares as the medication begins to run dry…

fear transcriptions; perfect, prime, paranoid… in twilight-dusk, in sweet disease… poisoned-lagoon firefight ceremonies… warpaint camouflage, reflecting pools… lovers hypnotised in sexual moonlight sabotage… building altars upon bones, constructing new torture-terror-thrones…

a series of polaroids in flames… pages of notebooks, unbound and burning… a soul to strangle, a soul to save… slit throats bleeding out over carved chests, as the amber full moon glides up over the treeline… mandible and head, thorax and abdomen… pills, they merely anaesthetise…

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along an infinite blast-wall corridor no.3

cement dust blankets vistas of the world forever gone… through the fluorescent light-fields and white noise hiss-tracts… distorted visions trailing neon haze spectres along the infinite blast-wall corridors… despondent eyes watch the lunar installation corrode the dying sun…

a river of kerosene snakes a slow path across the bed of the drained lake… a hundred grave candles circle an obsidian monolith… pretty girls dance in  long ruination, dreams adrift on the long, grey vague… tender boys sidle between the collapsing columns, bathed in the shadowy half-light…

premonitions of the fallout, coming like thin drizzle settling over the looming tower-blocks; smoke and fires torching the midnight sky… testimonies to the litany of unholy human wars… the rationale, the hubris, the voices – they were wrong…

a black mollusc slithers, dying, across a rotting atlas… fingernails scrape at tree bark, lanterns light desolate paths into the long desert dark… before the prison-porticoes beckon us to fall apart, before a column of white smoke rises from a silent circle… there are rituals still to be undertaken, my beloved…

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fire sermons from the old world no.4

denouement cloaked  in frozen bliss, icy fingertips dipped in ashen-sickness… a series of vague memories, poorly-lit, going away… hymns from survivors crackle and hiss, drone and whine, collapse and come apart… lost faces wrapped in funeral shrouds, staring long into the impossible steppe…

warehouse beside warehouse in rows, bombed-out, ruined, abandoned; dead… floodlights illuminate the blast-walls in the long distance… out here we are stricken, scattered and cut-up, broken and unbalanced… desolation measured in muted hues… the worlds we destroyed, the worlds we lost…

nearby a fire-sermon falters, its memory fading as freight-cars ferry the wounded and dead… smoke filled skies, whole cities bombed… along dark corridors misery looming… upon wet brick ash-lilies lay in steady waiting… slow utterances of whispered hopes faint and timid…

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along an infinite blast-wall corridor no.1

through the fluorescent light-fields…. distorted visions trailing neon haze spectres along an infinite blast-wall corridor… premonitions of the fallout, coming like thin drizzle settling over the concrete tower-blocks… see the red and green flicker in the eyes of the lost girls as they tread their careful path betwixt the imminent ruins…

slender fingers draped across ornaments of servitude… the idiot boys, dipped in filth, prey in the direction of the new world and manipulate themselves to issue… tormented minds, filled with meaningless instruction… cement dust blankets vistas of the gone world… a river of kerosene rushing steadily towards a blow-torch, forever…

a black mollusc slithers, dying, across a rotting atlas… fingernails scrape at tree bark, lanterns light impossible paths into the long forest dark… a hundred candles circle an obsidian monolith… arrowheads in our palms remind us of the journey… a column of white smoke rising from a silent clearing… there are rituals still to be undertaken, my beloved…

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desert sand serenades in blown-out monochrome no.3

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girls cut their tender hearts on sharp desert roses… crimson-pools forming across the burning dunes… deep in the saturated image field, fathers grieve in rituals of loss and regret… weeping into the barren dirt, gazing long over the aching bed of the dry lake…

the sunlight serenades the blood-thirsty earth… children draw their imaginations in the shifting dust… black snakes etch verse across the glinting vistas… out here all is delirium, pieces of living strangled then drowned; the looming darkness will make it easier to die…

lifeless wadi, dirt road; slaked in petrochemicals… pump-jacks wince in the amoebic dusk… fire temples, rusting silos, open graves, buried vaults beneath the ground… and as the blazing sun sinks behind the chemical sky only crippled dreams are left betwixt shadow and flame…

camp-fire ceremonies, feral incantations; lovers intertwined as the sky serenades the stars that never came… here they lie together in blown-out monochrome, in a desert strewn with death… inside the word and moment, tone poem utterances whispered; gazing long into the burning embers…

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black monoliths over new jerusalem no.5

see the pale-faced boys amongst the rubble, filled with dying, devoid of joy… idiot boys lingering in the shadows, teeth dipped in venom; licking their wounds and talking of genocide… lingering there in grim despair… toys of systematic decay…

wordless boys with crippled spines, torn from plastic dolly limbs; nauseous, thirsty, all alone… adrift amidst the ruins, the black, greasy belly of the dead city heaving with rot and misery… broken-babies scar the burning earth…

haunted pedestrians under a crescent moon, hanging like a jagged blade; rusted and poised to cleave at the ruins… dirtied, bloodied, broke, stillborn; ragged hands rifle through the remains of lost, discarded generations…

dust and debris greying the skyline, black monoliths hang voidal in their murkiest repose… all foetal-reasoning lost at birth… in glass-shard towers they crawl home; adrift in chemical lullaby… visions of new jerusalem…

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research outpost dissonance no.3

fever dream in the microbial-virus factory… machine malfunction dystrophy; the rusting blown-out guts of morbid-industry… white noise over the intercoms, ghosts talking in tongues over the portable field-sets… piss and blood congeal in the outpost gutters…

emergency protocol manual pages unbound and burning… idiot hands grapple at the core melt reality… china syndrome… plasterboard containment fields in flames, dead eyes stare into the pit… upon the static air float thick-fluorescent dreams…

tempestuous skies and electrical storms loom above the drained lake, burning the firmament…  a faint rattling of the window shutters, a whispering along silent bunker corridors… cable-cracklings of the radio towers… dust-storms darkness, debases, devours…

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desert sand serenades in blown-out monochrome no.1

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out into the saturated image field… desert sand serenades in blown-out monochrome… fire temples half-submerged in the rolling dunes… black snakes etch verse across the glinting vistas… campfire communion ritual incantations as the blazing sun sinks behind the distant mountain range horizon…

tone poem utterance gazing into the flaming embers… crystals strewn betwixt flickering candles… the desert sky circles the scene, trailing starlight firmament in kaleidoscopic spirals… droning distant winds murmur, the night undulating and coercing the beckoning…

a black bull lashed to the back of a flat-bed… dry lake, dirt road, hosed in petrochemicals… pump-jacks wince in the psychedelic dawn… wandering out into the spill, clawing in the wake… there is a tape recorder inside the sun… a blood-orange-glow  burning out the backs of our eyes…

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black monoliths over new jerusalem no.3

facility

mapping out the meaningless void while the city writhes and coils, undulating in the darkness, slowly changing its shape, twisting and turning, contracting and expanding… spectral torment sketched out along the dark streets, haunting the city with myriad tales of the slow failing… ghosts haunt pale-faced pedestrians, murmuring betwixt poured-concrete piazzas and glass-shard tower-blocks…

black monoliths looming in the desolation, bleak and oppressive… streets flooded with rainwater mixed with fuel and decay… cathedrals bleeding tears onto the shoulders of shivering parishioners… listless districts swarming with emergency vehicles, taxi cabs, prison transports; couriers ferrying suspect packages for hidden mahogany boardroom tables…

a sense of expanding peril and doubt rising up from the storm-drains, ascending stairwells, elevator cables, fire escapes… stretching out above the chaotic muttering, chattering, whispering, negotiating, screaming, cajoling; controlling… sidewalks burn with false promise under the crescent moon, hanging like an ivory blade above the reinforced steel towers… reasoning collapsing in the dizzying, spiralling dreaming…

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