circling they fly across september
blood red council of crows
hand in hand we lie stubble scraping
watching the portents
formation mirroring our own outstretched arms
touching the horizon gathering the harvest
annunciations of plenty
we declare the heavens open for business
we declare the heavens open for feasting
between the trees beneath the crows
we plight our troth we hold our tongues
there are no words left
we have eaten them all
The Dead Start Fires
Thursday, 16 December 2010
The Dead Start Fires
I went on a three day vodka bender.
And when I awoke
God spoke to me,
Through the medium of a kettle,
Through the medium of the classified football results.
And this is what he said:
"You are dead my son,
You just haven’t stopped moving yet.
You are dead my son,
But here’s the clever part:
No more hunger, no more pain,
No more broken hearts.
Just believe in me and you will be saved,
Just believe and all your dreams will come true.
Whatever you want, whenever you want,
With whomsoever you desire.
You can do what the hell you want.
Because the dead start fires my son,
Yes the dead start fires."
And so I did.
I fired them up,
I fired them down,
Ran naked through the smouldering town,
Ran naked through the smouldering streets,
Where the lost and the lonely and the lovers meet.
Where the lunatics and the girls turn tricks.
Stole from children, stole from thieves,
Stole hopes and fears and tears and griefs.
Burned innocence and indolence,
Burned arrogance and ignorance.
Screwed you slowly, screwed in haste,
Screwed the whore in the gutter
With her skirt around her waist.
Crying "love you long time, nothing sweeter,
Lick my clit and call me Rita."
And so I did.
Because the dead will mess with your head my friend,
Yes the dead will mess with your head.
The dead will whisper in your ear,
And tell you arcane secrets.
The dead will lurk behind you at the dinner table,
Passing the port the wrong way.
The dead know where your heart is hidden,
But refuse to tell on pain of life.
The dead will watch your happiness slide into dust,
And offer no crumb of comfort.
The dead say:
“Thou shalt not fall in love so easily.”
The dead say:
“They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.”
But the dead have the consolation
Of the quiet and the flames.
Because the dead play games, my love,
Yes the dead play games.
And when I awoke
God spoke to me,
Through the medium of a kettle,
Through the medium of the classified football results.
And this is what he said:
"You are dead my son,
You just haven’t stopped moving yet.
You are dead my son,
But here’s the clever part:
No more hunger, no more pain,
No more broken hearts.
Just believe in me and you will be saved,
Just believe and all your dreams will come true.
Whatever you want, whenever you want,
With whomsoever you desire.
You can do what the hell you want.
Because the dead start fires my son,
Yes the dead start fires."
And so I did.
I fired them up,
I fired them down,
Ran naked through the smouldering town,
Ran naked through the smouldering streets,
Where the lost and the lonely and the lovers meet.
Where the lunatics and the girls turn tricks.
Stole from children, stole from thieves,
Stole hopes and fears and tears and griefs.
Burned innocence and indolence,
Burned arrogance and ignorance.
Screwed you slowly, screwed in haste,
Screwed the whore in the gutter
With her skirt around her waist.
Crying "love you long time, nothing sweeter,
Lick my clit and call me Rita."
And so I did.
Because the dead will mess with your head my friend,
Yes the dead will mess with your head.
The dead will whisper in your ear,
And tell you arcane secrets.
The dead will lurk behind you at the dinner table,
Passing the port the wrong way.
The dead know where your heart is hidden,
But refuse to tell on pain of life.
The dead will watch your happiness slide into dust,
And offer no crumb of comfort.
The dead say:
“Thou shalt not fall in love so easily.”
The dead say:
“They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.”
But the dead have the consolation
Of the quiet and the flames.
Because the dead play games, my love,
Yes the dead play games.
seventeen years
there was a time when i would have given you anything given up anything surrendered my life to you surrendered my life for you but seventeen years is a long time long time stroking her neck running my fingers through her hair beyond comprehension willfully misunderstanding days i wished would last forever nights strung out with pills and whiskey and the laughter the laughter electric glances between us but now the looks are fading tracing lines down the small of her back razor blades cuts of love and pain oozing through dull consciousness some idiot osmosis these celebrations leave their marks on a man and a woman counts the days waiting for her bright lover to return and i dimly feel that desire building up now beneath my tongue she comes to me she comes to me and all is forgotten all buried like water beneath the rush of seventeen years
My Cocaine Mistress
You were huddled round the fire on the beach,
Shepherding the flames for the evening breeze.
Swapping Special Brew and spliffs with your mates:
Laughing stories of boys and toys,
Cocks and dildos.
Wrapped in a duffle coat of former days,
You flicked a curl back from your ear:
Unselfconscious, sweet, distracted, mischief on your mind;
You smiled not at me, but for me.
And I fell in love with you that night,
That very moment, on that beach,
I fell in love with you;
My cocaine mistress.
You were curled up on the sofa like a panther,
A panther with a roll-up and a glass of cheap red wine.
Grinning at the old war stories:
Tall tales of men and motors,
Parties and regret.
Wrapped in a dream of former days,
You spoke as secret lovers do:
Unselfconscious, absent, perfect, music in your eyes;
You talked not to me, but for me.
And I fell in love with you that night,
That very moment, on that sofa,
I fell in love with you;
My cocaine mistress.
You were crying on a corner in the rain,
Crying for your dead youth and the years that had been lost
At the loving hands of families and friends:
Relations of the blood and the blade,
Instruments and cigarettes.
Wrapped in a dislocation of former days,
Your tears washing away the innocence:
Unselfconscious, squalid, human, sorrow on your breath;
You kissed me. You kissed me.
And I fell in love with you that night,
That very moment, in that rain,
I fell in love with you;
My cocaine mistress.
You are stretched out on the bedsheet like a doll,
Arms akimbo, damaged lady porcelain.
Tracing the journeys your body has taken:
Broken maps of pain and lust,
Addictions and despair.
Wrapped in a skin of former days,
White powder fills the furrows of your flesh.
Unselfconscious, ephemeral, eternal, a perfume on your sweat,
Purging me of all my guilt.
And I fall in love with you this night,
This very moment, every moment,
I fall in love with you again;
My cocaine mistress.
Shepherding the flames for the evening breeze.
Swapping Special Brew and spliffs with your mates:
Laughing stories of boys and toys,
Cocks and dildos.
Wrapped in a duffle coat of former days,
You flicked a curl back from your ear:
Unselfconscious, sweet, distracted, mischief on your mind;
You smiled not at me, but for me.
And I fell in love with you that night,
That very moment, on that beach,
I fell in love with you;
My cocaine mistress.
You were curled up on the sofa like a panther,
A panther with a roll-up and a glass of cheap red wine.
Grinning at the old war stories:
Tall tales of men and motors,
Parties and regret.
Wrapped in a dream of former days,
You spoke as secret lovers do:
Unselfconscious, absent, perfect, music in your eyes;
You talked not to me, but for me.
And I fell in love with you that night,
That very moment, on that sofa,
I fell in love with you;
My cocaine mistress.
You were crying on a corner in the rain,
Crying for your dead youth and the years that had been lost
At the loving hands of families and friends:
Relations of the blood and the blade,
Instruments and cigarettes.
Wrapped in a dislocation of former days,
Your tears washing away the innocence:
Unselfconscious, squalid, human, sorrow on your breath;
You kissed me. You kissed me.
And I fell in love with you that night,
That very moment, in that rain,
I fell in love with you;
My cocaine mistress.
You are stretched out on the bedsheet like a doll,
Arms akimbo, damaged lady porcelain.
Tracing the journeys your body has taken:
Broken maps of pain and lust,
Addictions and despair.
Wrapped in a skin of former days,
White powder fills the furrows of your flesh.
Unselfconscious, ephemeral, eternal, a perfume on your sweat,
Purging me of all my guilt.
And I fall in love with you this night,
This very moment, every moment,
I fall in love with you again;
My cocaine mistress.
crawl into my grave and turn the key
i have done all i can to forget you but the memory still creeps across my skin i have done all i can to hide from you but the light still burns my eyes i have done all i can to bury the past in a box carved out of feigned indifference but still you crawl into my grave and break the seal crawl into my grave and pick the lock crawl into my grave and turn the key
The Oslo Girls
The Oslo girls paint by numbers.
The Oslo girls supplement their income through bookkeeping and prostitution.
The Oslo girls weep for the dead of Juarez.
The Oslo girls invented baseball.
The Oslo girls called for you while you were out.
The Oslo girls like boys with toys.
The Oslo girls are inside the tent pissing out.
The Oslo girls have come for your children.
The Oslo girls favour the brave.
The Oslo girls are outside the tent pissing in.
The Oslo girls shot JFK.
The Oslo girls asked questions later.
The Oslo girls shall look on Helen's face in hell.
The Oslo girls have started so they'll finish.
The Oslo girls plagiarise, plagiarise, plagiarise.
The Oslo girls are training men. Hallelujah.
The Oslo girls will free your mind and your ass will follow.
The Oslo girls give as good as they get.
The Oslo girls are God's gift to women.
The Oslo girls are God's gift to women?
The Oslo girls are God's gift to women.
The Oslo girls know where you live.
The Oslo girls scream when they wanna go faster.
The Oslo girls are on the side of the angels. But the Devil is their best friend.
The Oslo girls do not break eggs to make an omelette.
The Oslo girls are slippery when wet.
The Oslo girls had a farm. Ee-i-ee-i-o.
The Oslo girls got married in a fever.
The Oslo girls would like to meet your mother.
The Oslo girls threw the baby out with the bath water.
The Oslo girls licked the platter clean.
The Oslo girls built Rome in a day.
The Oslo girls told God to do it.
The Oslo girls got drunk on dark wine.
The Oslo girls gather no moss.
The Oslo girls went down to the river to pray.
The Oslo girls like it hot.
The Oslo girls are only slightly bent.
The Oslo girls love you. Very, very much. They just don't have the words.
The Oslo girls supplement their income through bookkeeping and prostitution.
The Oslo girls weep for the dead of Juarez.
The Oslo girls invented baseball.
The Oslo girls called for you while you were out.
The Oslo girls like boys with toys.
The Oslo girls are inside the tent pissing out.
The Oslo girls have come for your children.
The Oslo girls favour the brave.
The Oslo girls are outside the tent pissing in.
The Oslo girls shot JFK.
The Oslo girls asked questions later.
The Oslo girls shall look on Helen's face in hell.
The Oslo girls have started so they'll finish.
The Oslo girls plagiarise, plagiarise, plagiarise.
The Oslo girls are training men. Hallelujah.
The Oslo girls will free your mind and your ass will follow.
The Oslo girls give as good as they get.
The Oslo girls are God's gift to women.
The Oslo girls are God's gift to women?
The Oslo girls are God's gift to women.
The Oslo girls know where you live.
The Oslo girls scream when they wanna go faster.
The Oslo girls are on the side of the angels. But the Devil is their best friend.
The Oslo girls do not break eggs to make an omelette.
The Oslo girls are slippery when wet.
The Oslo girls had a farm. Ee-i-ee-i-o.
The Oslo girls got married in a fever.
The Oslo girls would like to meet your mother.
The Oslo girls threw the baby out with the bath water.
The Oslo girls licked the platter clean.
The Oslo girls built Rome in a day.
The Oslo girls told God to do it.
The Oslo girls got drunk on dark wine.
The Oslo girls gather no moss.
The Oslo girls went down to the river to pray.
The Oslo girls like it hot.
The Oslo girls are only slightly bent.
The Oslo girls love you. Very, very much. They just don't have the words.
The Mother of Mexican Poetry
I was born in a shack in Sonora.
I was born in a bungalow in Tel Aviv.
I was born in a country house in the Yorkshire Dales.
The details are not recorded,
Because the details are the Devil's secret.
My mother died screaming in child-birth.
My mother turned to prostitution and crack cocaine.
My mother rode with the hunt and the hound.
The details are ill-defined,
Because the details are the Devil's province.
My father raised a hard-eyed child.
My father disappeared in 1968.
My father blew his brains out one Christmas Eve.
The details are transitory,
Because the details are the Devil’s joke.
And three times I was martyred:
In the garden at Gethsemane,
On the streets of Alexandria,
In the cold of Salem meeting-house;
For I am the mother of Mexican poetry,
The daughter of an institutional revolution,
The sister of the unnamed dead.
For Roberto Bolaño
I was born in a bungalow in Tel Aviv.
I was born in a country house in the Yorkshire Dales.
The details are not recorded,
Because the details are the Devil's secret.
My mother died screaming in child-birth.
My mother turned to prostitution and crack cocaine.
My mother rode with the hunt and the hound.
The details are ill-defined,
Because the details are the Devil's province.
My father raised a hard-eyed child.
My father disappeared in 1968.
My father blew his brains out one Christmas Eve.
The details are transitory,
Because the details are the Devil’s joke.
And three times I was martyred:
In the garden at Gethsemane,
On the streets of Alexandria,
In the cold of Salem meeting-house;
For I am the mother of Mexican poetry,
The daughter of an institutional revolution,
The sister of the unnamed dead.
For Roberto Bolaño
vacationing in purgatory
bloody great box of bones you stalk my life
walking on four legs in the mourning
gears clacking cough racking
with a twisted smile
i hide behind children throwing stones
and lick the platter in atonement
scheming my nemesis and fears whirring
a machine machine machine
so much for this brave new world i would pray to god but god has packed up his bags and gone vacationing in purgatory
walking on four legs in the mourning
gears clacking cough racking
with a twisted smile
i hide behind children throwing stones
and lick the platter in atonement
scheming my nemesis and fears whirring
a machine machine machine
so much for this brave new world i would pray to god but god has packed up his bags and gone vacationing in purgatory
we closed the circle
so there i was with cass down the pub i'd always fancied her but never tried it on she was more like a mate and we'd had a few and got onto that six degrees of separation thing and cass was laughing like what's the figure for shagging you know i shagged him and he shagged her till everyone is linked by a chain of fucking like what do you reckon for the number of people between us cos i screwed jack and he was going out with penny and i know she slept with jenny once though they both deny it what a laugh penny and jenny didn't you shag her yeah a couple of times so that's four degrees between us and it's even got a rhyming lesbian link in it that's one for the cv we were laughing like fuck and i was getting a hard on under the table just thinking about it wondering if cass was getting horny as well and i remembered my ex paula once told me she'd screwed steve when he was going out with cass and i didn't know if cass knew but i was so fucking turned on i told her anyway and she loved it laughing and laughing and laughing that makes three i said but don't you see she said it makes a circle me jack penny jenny you paula steve me again we're screwing each other we're screwing ourselves and we were so proud of it we went to the gents i didn't even try and hide my hard on we drew it on the blackboard a circle of life a fucking great circle and i fucked her against the toilet wall and we closed the circle
Sixteen Photographs
After the Chinese city of Nanking fell to the Japanese in December 1937, the Imperial Army embarked on a six week orgy of rape, murder, arson and looting almost unparalleled in modern warfare. When the perpetrators were brought to trial after the war, one of the most important exhibits was a small album of sixteen photographs:
Photograph One
General Matsui Iwane salutes his victorious troops as he enters the walled city of Nanking. He is mounted on a magnificent chestnut horse.
Photograph Two
A female corpse lies in the street. Clothing covers the body from the waist up and the knees down. The vagina has been split to enable easier access and a bamboo stick has been inserted, mimicking a phallus.
Photograph Three
A man is beheaded with a sword. We see the actual moment of the victim's decapitation.
Photograph Four
The head of a Chinese soldier balances on a barbed-wire barricade. A cigarette has been inserted between the soldier's lips.
Photograph Five
This woman barely escapes rape, fighting off three Japanese soldiers armed with bayonets. Seven months pregnant during the attack, she has suffered a miscarriage in the hospital.
Photograph Six
A teenage boy lies in the hospital, his head charred black after being doused with gasoline and set on fire.
Photograph Seven
The doctor examines a gang-rape victim whose head has been almost severed by repeated bayonet thrusts.
Photograph Eight
Two Japanese soldiers pose nonchalantly for a newspaper cameraman. They are engaged in a contest to see who can be the first to behead one hundred Chinese prisoners. The accompanying article describes the two men as being 'neck and neck'.
Photograph Nine
Portrait of the German businessman John Rabe: balding and bespectacled, he wears a formal dress suit and has his hands clasped across his groin. This Living Buddha of Nanking helped save the lives of two hundred thousand people. He wears his Nazi regalia with pride.
Photograph Ten
Portrait of the American missionary Minnie Vautrin: elegantly coiffured, she looks thoughtfully into the middle distance. This Living Goddess of Nanking helped save the lives of two hundred thousand people. Three years later she will seal the windows and doors of her home with tape and turn on the gas.
Photograph Eleven
A young woman has been bound to a chair, with her legs spread open to encourage repeated attacks. A thin black strip has been placed across the bottom of the photograph to protect the viewers' sensibilities.
Photograph Twelve
A Buddhist monk has been ordered at gunpoint to rape an elderly woman. When the monk refuses he is castrated and left to bleed to death.
Photograph Thirteen
The Japanese cannot find enough bodies of dead and dying Chinese soldiers to fill these trenches to allow tanks to pass over them, so they shoot nearby residents and throw them in as well.
Photograph Fourteen
A Chinese soldier is stripped naked and buried up to his waist. Dogs are released on the man, ripping open his belly and jerking out the intestines along the ground.
Photograph Fifteen
The body of an eleven-year-old girl who has died after being raped continuously for two days. According to eyewitness reports ‘the blood-stained, swollen and ruptured area between the girl’s legs creates a disgusting scene difficult for anyone to look at directly’.
Photograph Sixteen
A shopkeeper is forced to sodomise his wife and two young daughters in front of laughing Japanese soldiers. The entire family kill themselves by drowning in the Yangtze river.
Photograph Seventeen
Twin jets of blood gush from a severed neck. Blood and dried semen stain the corpse. Blood and dried semen you fuckers. You fuckers. You cunts.
For Iris Chang
Photograph One
General Matsui Iwane salutes his victorious troops as he enters the walled city of Nanking. He is mounted on a magnificent chestnut horse.
Photograph Two
A female corpse lies in the street. Clothing covers the body from the waist up and the knees down. The vagina has been split to enable easier access and a bamboo stick has been inserted, mimicking a phallus.
Photograph Three
A man is beheaded with a sword. We see the actual moment of the victim's decapitation.
Photograph Four
The head of a Chinese soldier balances on a barbed-wire barricade. A cigarette has been inserted between the soldier's lips.
Photograph Five
This woman barely escapes rape, fighting off three Japanese soldiers armed with bayonets. Seven months pregnant during the attack, she has suffered a miscarriage in the hospital.
Photograph Six
A teenage boy lies in the hospital, his head charred black after being doused with gasoline and set on fire.
Photograph Seven
The doctor examines a gang-rape victim whose head has been almost severed by repeated bayonet thrusts.
Photograph Eight
Two Japanese soldiers pose nonchalantly for a newspaper cameraman. They are engaged in a contest to see who can be the first to behead one hundred Chinese prisoners. The accompanying article describes the two men as being 'neck and neck'.
Photograph Nine
Portrait of the German businessman John Rabe: balding and bespectacled, he wears a formal dress suit and has his hands clasped across his groin. This Living Buddha of Nanking helped save the lives of two hundred thousand people. He wears his Nazi regalia with pride.
Photograph Ten
Portrait of the American missionary Minnie Vautrin: elegantly coiffured, she looks thoughtfully into the middle distance. This Living Goddess of Nanking helped save the lives of two hundred thousand people. Three years later she will seal the windows and doors of her home with tape and turn on the gas.
Photograph Eleven
A young woman has been bound to a chair, with her legs spread open to encourage repeated attacks. A thin black strip has been placed across the bottom of the photograph to protect the viewers' sensibilities.
Photograph Twelve
A Buddhist monk has been ordered at gunpoint to rape an elderly woman. When the monk refuses he is castrated and left to bleed to death.
Photograph Thirteen
The Japanese cannot find enough bodies of dead and dying Chinese soldiers to fill these trenches to allow tanks to pass over them, so they shoot nearby residents and throw them in as well.
Photograph Fourteen
A Chinese soldier is stripped naked and buried up to his waist. Dogs are released on the man, ripping open his belly and jerking out the intestines along the ground.
Photograph Fifteen
The body of an eleven-year-old girl who has died after being raped continuously for two days. According to eyewitness reports ‘the blood-stained, swollen and ruptured area between the girl’s legs creates a disgusting scene difficult for anyone to look at directly’.
Photograph Sixteen
A shopkeeper is forced to sodomise his wife and two young daughters in front of laughing Japanese soldiers. The entire family kill themselves by drowning in the Yangtze river.
Photograph Seventeen
Twin jets of blood gush from a severed neck. Blood and dried semen stain the corpse. Blood and dried semen you fuckers. You fuckers. You cunts.
For Iris Chang
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