Rusty Cereal And Milk Bottle Tops

Rusty cereal and milk bottle tops,
And Disney-designated alarm clocks
Ticking through inferior day jobs
And shoving on shoes in a shoebox.

Rusty cereal and milk bottle tops,
And Croydon-contained crop-tops,
Snipping through the council-house fops
And spiralling down in the day jobs.

Rusty cereal and milk bottom tops,
And comedic-comedy gob-stops,
Blowing sugar bubbles on our desktops.
And mastering stairs in a shoebox.

Lies, Damn Lies and Daniel Stairmaster

I am sure our most loyal readers will have been shocked to read a message from the departed Daniel Stairmaster co-founder of this blog, more shocking were the accusations that I was keeping him prisoner. I assure you that this is not the case, Daniel Stairmaster is as far as we know dead, although his virus riddled body has yet to be found. I do not know how his account was hacked and I will be carrying out an in depth investigation, the perpetrators will be discovered. I guarantee it.

Assistance Please!

Help I am trapped in Chainz's shoe box, he feeds me once a week on rusty cereal and milk bottle tops. Don't believe his lies, his words are as meaningless as the life of Tim Henman. He wants the blog to himself, I must go now, the beetles are squealing, he is home. Please help me.

Cartoon Gods

Well, I woke and the road I was on,
Seemed more blue than it was grey,
And the signposts thereon,
Seemed more odd in a wholly exaggerated way.
And the squawking, talking birds that flew over my head
Had bigger eyes than the ones I knew before reality fled.

And the sun that shone,
Seemed a lot like a sun
The gods of paper
Might draw from.

So I walked down the road,
And into a creek, that appeared from the branches,
That seemed more yellow than brown -
And the way that those picknickers went tumblin' down,
Seemed a little slapstick to me.

And the salmon that leapt from the stream,
winked at the anglers in oversized boots,
who dangled their rods off a bridge that might break,
And had rods that bent further than gravity could hope to replicate.

And the sun that shone,
Seemd a lot like a sun,
That the Cartoon Gods
Could draw from.

Turn In

The heat's clinging on the walls
As if to live,
And I switch on the fan,
If only to hear the sound
Of movement again.

Whirring like a wasp on my eardrum
And ready to sting.

I think I'll turn in.

The sun's bringing on the fall,
For real this time,
And I'm stuck inside
Wondering if I'll see
Its movement again.

Feeding like a leech on my daydreams
And starting to sting.

I think I'll turn in.

In Dreams

And blue is the night on your face,
And black is my mood.
Can you see me in your pool of dreams
Reflecting on us -
As blue as the night on my face,
And black as my mood?
I can see you in the swirl of clouds
Closing in on us.

Mobile Phone Not Working No More Blues (By The Most Anal Man In The World)

Well, I turned on my baby...
She didn't need to ask...
She gave me her number...
Said, "you'd better call me back".
I thought, "well, thanks, that would seem satisfactory,
After all, what could I possibly have in this whole goddamn crazy, definitely disappointing, frequently beguiling world to lose?"

So, I switched on my mobile...
She wasn't on the line...
Probably working the night shift,
And I felt fine.
Then I thought, "She's not working a night shift at all, she's taking you for some crazy, anal fool - you anal. Fucking. Tool.".
And I followed it up by thinking "I could be wrong - and probably am - but may not be either, but possibly - just maybe (though admittedly not likely) - my mobile phone's gone on the blink?"

So I switched on my mobile,
And caught the back end of my
mobile phone not working no more blues.

Yeah.



Yeah.



Yeah.




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Yeah.

Thousand Decisions

The thing we need to learn in this life is that nothing happens immediately. Not really. Hmm, yeah, the comma I just tapped out on this keyboard, that was "immediate", but it led from somewhere.

A thousand tiny decisions went into that decision, and each of those thousand tiny decisions was reached by a thousand tiny decisions before it, and so on and so seventh... forth.

The point is that even in the littlest things, lots of thought goes into things.

Like the use of "littlest" in that last line there. "Smallest would have been more correct, probably - I don't know - but "littlest" just felt better right there and then. There. And then. And a lot of tiny decisions had gone to make me reach that - um - decision. Maybe a thousand, maybe fewer. Probably more. I'm not a mathematician.

Talk to a girl; thousand decisions;
Girl talk to you; thousand decisions.
Why your paths crossed; thousand decisions.

Save the world, create history; thousand decisions.
Thank me, or don't, for you are entitled to disagree.

Thousand decisions.

Broken Family

She runs and fetches the bedding,
For her young ones.
They curl up beneath the moon,
And dream.

He's out looking for food.
He tires and takes
an endless break
A turn too soon.

Latvia

One night soon you'll take my belongings
And throw them on the edge of the road,
Maybe thumb a lift to Latvia
Or somewhere close.

And then, you'll all but forget me
Crawling around with a torchlight
Like a drunk longing for booze,
Craving for mementos, and only you to lose.

I'll write you letters you'll never receive
Worded In a way that'd make you hate me
If I could just forget you,
And you could just forget me.

One night soon you'll take my belongings
And toss them to the edge of the road,
And I'll end up in Italy, or Latvia,
Or somewhere close.

Letter Arranging A Rendezvous With A Soulmate

Dear Departed,

We'll meet
Whenever I learn
To dream again.

Yours,

Forever.

As This

Life ain't so hard,
Not so hard you have to take a pick to it,
To uncover the gold.

Life ain't so bad,
Not so bad you need to take a stick to it,
To break away the mould.

Life ain't so scary.
Not so scary you have to take a priest to it,
To exorcise the ghost.

Life ain't so predictable.
Not so predictable,
As this.

Electric Trees

Burning electric trees,
Is all I have for destruction.

Sometimes I could kill myself,
Let the blood flow from my throat,
Outta my neck and
Down through my shirt,
And through the floorboards,
So the rats could drink.

But burning electric trees,
Is all I have for destruction.

Handful Of Wheels

I've a handful of wheels,
I'm struggling to hold in my arms,
If I were to drop one,
I'd have a handful of wheels,
Following the other.

I've a handful of wheels,
I'm struggling to keep from the ground,
If I were to drop another,
I'd have a handful of wheels,
Following each other.

I've a handful of wheels,
Moving independently of each other.
If I were to drop another,
I'd have a handful of wheels
Running me over.

You Know The Moon

You know the moon,
Knows a thing or two,
About us.
It remembers the time,
We turned our eyes,
To the ground
When the sun went down
And I held you in my arms.

You know the moon,
Knows a thing or two,
About us.
It remembers the time,
We said our goodbyes.
To the sound
Of the rain coming down -
To the sound of retribution.

Hit The Ground

Well, I spent the evening crying
for no-one again.
I usually do.
You only showed your wares
when you needed to -
I don't blame you.
It's only the past.

So why do I only
hit the ground?
Why do I always
hit the ground
When I'm running from you?

Ends

Like an end without a start.
Like a Dog without a tail to chase.
Like a never ending winter's night.
Like an undiscovered cancer.
Like a birthday death.
Like a sinking feeling on a floating ship.
Like an Alanis Morissette song without irony.
Like a day without dawn.
Like a night without stars.
Like a revolution without change.
Like a cake without sugar.
Like a Kodak moment without film.
Like an extremely long blog entry without readers.
Like insults without apology.
Like stealing without reward.
Like batteries without toys.
Like Monday without the weekend.
Like antidote without virus.
Like music without note.
Like novel without thought.
Like wine without fruit.
Like rocks without ice.
Like paragraphs without punctuation
Like issues without situations.
Like a bus journey without stops.
Like laughter without jokes.
Like life with all of you, this unremarkable thing suddenly just stops.

In From The Warmth

Chainz looked around the blog, it had been a long time since he had gazed upon it's hellish black walls, it was good to be back, if only for a moment. It was comforting to see it's plain typeface and inhale it's electronic smells, it was like freshly cut grass, a reassuring fragrance of nonsensical times, better times. He looked out into the squalor of cyberspace, that dank void he tried best to pretend didn't exist. It was quiet in the blog, it was always quiet, a place to ruminate and a place to forget. The Zpiral was absent, but his thoughts bounced around the perimeter of the browser a comforting reminder of his continuing battle against the deadening of the senses. Chainz thought, as he continued down into the cellar of the blog, that it was amazing that it still stood, amazing that it hadn't been replaced by a monument to Jade Goody or an illegal download site specializing in the works of Falco. He smiled, a lingering smile of appreciation and contentment, then a brief moment of sorrow, the name Daniel Stairmaster plastered in Times New Roman on a wall. But time had forgotten the legend, and time will forget me- thought Chainz as he put finger to keyboard and permitted his verbal disease to spill onto digital page. He would have to return to the blog more often, if only to realise that all was not lost.

The Lesser Confused Letter

It's only my sanity,
We're gambling on,
In the Endless Casino.

I'd love the general public,
to stake their claim,
Cliched as we are...

It's only my sanity
We are betting on,
In the Endless Casino,

Spin 'a' wheel.

It's only your sanity,
In the Endless Casino,
We are betting on.

Dandelion

Just because the dandelion
Breezed before me earlier
Doesn't mean I noticed it
As it went on its way.

Blue wind,
Yellow memories,
Warm hearts.

Just because the dandelion
Whirled past you today
Doesn't mean you noticed it
And it went on its way.

Blue memories,
Yellow winds,
Warm hearts,

Just because the dandelion,
Died before us yesterday
Doesn't mean I focused on it,
When it went away.

Blue winds,
Yellow hearts,
Warm memories.

Homeward

I long for home in times like,
I long to take these words
And shove them down my,
Sometimes my throat won't
sometimes I'm clear.

Sometimes you feel.
Then and I'm homeward.
Now and you're not near.
Now and you're not.
Now and I'm not here.

Sometimes I'm homeward,
Sometimes my path won't
Leave my conscience,
Sometimes my clear won't
Send me homeward.

Set Yer Speedo

so yer looking for direction
need protection?
set yer speedo to solo.

so yer looking for reflection
need correction?
set yer speedo to solo.

set yer speedo to solo
and solo to somewhere

and somewhere to no-go.
set yer speedo to solo.