nerve text
Philosophy, Puppetry, Writing
2011
everything was compressed in here, the idea of an alchemy that can heal us. doll is there, but finding her is difficult.
  • We can't see through the mist but we can hear rumbling sounds of fog horns - or sirens ? - and just as we disappear from view, the voice of a preacher inciting us to give an urgent but undefined commitment

    All our underworlds are dying or useless, either in blissful ignorance or in the violence and cruelty of ghetto culture, but between suppression and stagnation there is still enough space to cultivate our own concealed jewels, revolutions always slowly seeing what underlies the wounds

    our insides once touched always keep a tight grip on finger tips even when closing and growing

    in her smothering snake like forms that move from nerve to nerve

    she lies

    she turns

    she encloses what i need to understand

    there is a very long way to go inside to see where we have touched, and it starts here,

    when she holds

    when she is still and clammy like stone

    when she giggles

    and when she is vulnerable

    she makes me feel fragile

    i feel sad sometimes and this is why doll is born

    i miss you

    fingers that are long and gentle which grasp for love before they grow cold

    tears that cleanse tired eyes

    i miss waking up with you and carelessly giggling in an embrace

    i can't find any freedom from feelings

    it's been a while, still, it seems a short time. i wish i could forget everything is slipping and look upon the images inside without thinking. perhaps I ought to leave them now these things won't die, and if one day we woke up to find nothing would we still feel anxious and distant or would we feel calm? you can't see everything nor pass judgement, you can't fill the dark holes into which hope bravely descends or understand the thoughts which cannot be glued to words, the space filled by our bodies and residues of dreams, constantly growing and falling apart

    transformed into a doll without flesh

    our hearts flutter

    fear of death

    fear of being without somebody to hold

    fear of objects without life

    today, i am sorry, i wasn't very happy
    nonetheless here is an explanation:

    we were walking through the woods on a sunny day
    (we were in love)

    when we came across a small ditch

    heaped up with bodies slit up to their mouths

    they had been aligned, as far as they could hold 

    together

    so that anyone walking past would be met

    with the sight of white eyes

    my thoughts turn to violence and fear when i get caught inside

    and i think of small glass containers which would hold me

    at death we hope that there will be peace

    and when old people cannot speak any more

    let there be peace in their numb bodies

    to stop morphine worms breeding in their thoughts

    the body is tending towards a helpless state

    which is a loss of feeling

    feeling weak

    fluids spurt out from the inside

    soak up into the blooded water

    the lungs are choked

    the skin is drying up

    the body is falling apart

    only held together by the force of the blood rushing to the penis

    everything is suspended without being conscious

    collapsed

    the worms have been contained in a clean metal tin

    but that doesn't stop them eating themselves

    force fed with the drug of masturbation

    which allows us to feel our own cells

    releasing everything and then discarded, separated

    leaving a shell

    so lie still

    i can hear the blood in my heart

    i felt my blood was septic

    i can hear my breathing

    she is shy

    is pain

    body

    heart

    pushing blood through limbs

    in my dreams full of desire

    embracing

    we do not think

    also though i dream of death or the inevitable clutching and loss

    terror and gentleness seem so close

    the way a baby's small hands wrap around my finger

    grasping

    smooth soft fingers holding on with all their strength

    the penis inside the vagina

    sharing

    smooth soft flesh wraps around inside where there is no light but warm liquid

    contained

    there is a vessel upon the shelf

    now there is spilt liquid upon a stone floor, please protect all children because they have to live


    explain to me (if you want to)

    the deformities of our babies

    the cold rooms of our mentally ill

    our thoughts, rest in open spaces

    and if their is a soul, or a cause and effect

    tell me what happens to our armless and legless abortions

    with their disjointed eyes and blood that is the same as yours and mine

    tell me what they feel

    this is what doll feels, a blood repellent lead form in wax solution

    blood rests on the surface as small particles

    vaporise before they can be touched

    into the air and gases

    which are drawn into the lungs

    forms more alkaline than wombs

    close together and penetrating inside

    a healing heart in a dying body

    sweat separates our bodies

    in this warm space where love lies, but also

    gases, a birdwing, a pool of semen

    mercury

    inside the body internal organs and forms

    mechanisms

    wire frame

    so complex that desire and thoughts are constructed and self sustain themselves

    impermanence

    of all forms and solids

    and all gases

    and all elements

    body which feels the cold

    loss

    happiness

    warmth

    sadness

    chain of body forms linked

    internal

    breast to womb

    rib to colon

    self reproducing body form

    not possible to separate the elements

    the limb from the vessel

    full of fluid

    from the gases

    to the tubes

    fluids passages

    transformed solutions

    without fear

    enclosed

    glass

    metal

    dripping liquids

    simple objects

    whole

    still-life

    stretched

    linking breast to breast developing in the womb

    and passage of fluids into the blood

    which dissolves solids in the belly

    which strengthen bone structure of rib cage

    from a fibre-like material laid flat a body surface is formed

    twisted into strands to form blood vessels and hands which join and merge into the broken surface, a surface of tiny holes

    when formed into a mask the surface replaces the skin of your face so that you can see inside, deep inside me

    our skin surface is also made of holes

    fly eyes

    spine

    skull

    loneliness and animal skeletons

    a dead bird, tonight on the street

    later -

    found it still there but

    as if a child had run over it on a bike

    internal organs out

    there is nothing that can be done

    third time -

    the bird body has been cleared away

    there is a stain on the pavement

    a small piece of organ

    all around, on the waste ground

    at the end of the road, on the kerb, there is rubbish, dog shit, drink cans, debris

    blood pours into the vessel

    ugly heads rise up out of the skin

    dog straining at the leash

    making it erect, strong

    internal pressure building until it seems

    the body will split at the genital opening

    which if opened any more

    the organs could be seen, touched

    until it bursts free

    flailing

    violently charging forwards

    blood

    other fluids

    unstoppable, until it drives itself to collapse from exhaustion

    limp and humid

    mouth open, tongue hanging out

    belly flat on the ground

    wet material clings to inside of skin

    of thigh

    gasping, legs flopped outward

    eyes watery

    mad and vulnerable

    the smoothest and palest skin

    which reddens at the touch of swelling lips

    on t.v news someone says:

    [a six year old girl] blood was running from her nose

    she was split open [she had been raped]

    she wanted to kill herself

    but we managed to stop her

    formless thoughts

    so much pain

    no room for desires

    penetrated split and dissolved

    death of a rapist

    always alive

    penis erect and leaking

    but snapped off

    lifted up her skirt and penetrated her skin

    mindless, brutal, broken nose

    broken face, ripped ribs from his lungs

    uttered

    speechless

    guilt

    gut

    as if all we could ever wish that thoughts come to an end in slaughter

    flea bite

    horror

    victim beaten about the face

    mutilated, for money in a safe upstairs

    small child

    young woman

    an eighty year old

    weak

    down

    barely breathing, clubbed

    hands broken

    eyes bruised until black

    cannot see any longer, blind

    pearls

    rib cage

    thigh surface

    eyes in skin that cannot blink

    crinkled dress material

    silver ring

    sweat

    illness

    stretched

    body trapped in body

    organs trapped in vessel

    loveless dying friendship

    craving for indigestible pre-processed food

    that lies in the intestines for days and will be shitted out rotten and choking as

    pig ripe for slaughter

    sleeping body

    lacking a single touch or

    a single kiss

    lacking warmth

    lacking emptiness

    automated

    body without support

    two bodies lying next to each other in bed

    barely asleep

    still

    separate

    as if we are incapable of communication

    or tenderness

    warmth of flesh

    curving around cage and breasts

    legs wrap around

    joined

    moving so slowly under sheets in darkness

    with no centre to thoughts

    no centre

    love slowly move

    together round

    up and down

    inside and outside

    whilst asleep and gently breathing

    calm

    finger barely touches flesh

    parting

    air space

    warm trapped air

    out of sheets

    warmth

    in a green place

    and yellow, bright transparent blue

    a jungle

    full of clear moisture

    small animals which cannot be seen under the lush surface

    living

    breathing

    small animal families

    with small eyes

    black beads

    and gentle feet

    that grasp and protect

    and enclose warmth inside the cold

    please protect each of us from the cold

    inside her body warm pregnant blood

    warm breath and lips

    open and safe in warm air in dark under sheets

    soaked with sweat, condensation and special smells

    dirtied dank sheets clean to lovers in winter's night

    all sound inside body which cannot be heard except breathing

    my ear upon your breast

    ripples

    heart beat

    eyelids and lips and smile

    eyes

    temptation brings ugliness down upon the weak hearted and tender

    white flowing dresses

    uncovered leads us into dismal thoughts and shivering sleep

    for those to whom promises mean everything

    end to pretence and insecurity

    dying hands and reddened knuckles

    babies eyes

    tears

    lying by the fire

    fine hairs resting over your face and neck

    smooth hollow of thoughts of love and closeness between breasts

    upon which gently falls a gaze

    and a breath

    a sigh

    a sleepy eye

    her eyelashes and warm skin

    small voices and contented

    head resting against her arm upon body close to sleep

    seems far away

    no words can bring closer

    so quiet and waiting for the end

    another time in a wish

    in dreams to be closer

    close together

    close the door

    wrap us up in the almost quiet room in the house in the night

    until morning and parting

    and light and laughter

    holding hands

    kicking sand and falling in leaves

    in a city of leaves and poor broken people

    struggling to eat and love and sleep in peace in night

    babies in this world

    small lives bombs shake them in their wombs

    and drugs poison

    warm thin blood but strong hearts

    winter and spring time

    hold my hand and let's run

    laugh and fall into a bed of leaves

    i will protect you from the frost

    but can promise little else my love

    not even love letters for you to keep and fade

    words which curl up on the edges cannot outlive the memory of the wish

    beaten but never forgotten

    not even when we die

    although friendships die

    inside of this room

    food which lies rotting

    hunger of the belly

    taut belly and bones under chest

    love sleeps alone tonight

    sleep and drunken dreams

    same flesh and beautiful smile

    face of warmth and vulnerable

    quiet

    lips and eyes meet in a centre which we drift around

    wishing

    and loss

    which must be faced

    in tears and fragile hands that rest upon her dead loved body

    her gentle hands

    mothering hands that have held and loved

    unspoken

    respect

    her face

    closed eyes

    blue eyes

    i wish you well and will always remember you

    i hope you are well

    and that you meet kindness and happiness

    always

    since summer time we have always laughed and are hopelessly carefree

    but winter is upon us now

    our small bodies

    what will we do?

    perhaps we shall play little games

    and sing and dance

    holding hands around a circle of flames

    laughing

    believing in that the night will never come to an end

    all together

    we sing and drunkenly fall over

    in this night that will have no end

    until we fall into sleep and share our dreams and nightmares

    huddled together for our fears shared

    little animals

    small and warm

    so close

    never far away

    we share our fears and hopes

    our big wishes for such small bodies

    and we will always live and laugh

    for happiness

    for our companionship

    in the face of evil

    of suffering and pain

    and death

    that separates us from our loved ones

    but in this night

    holding each other together amidst screams

    we know that we will never be alone

    our memories and our feelings

    we give our dead hope full of kind thoughts and happiness in our tears of loss

    and will never forget

    body aches because it is full of chemicals and cancers

    it is tired because its mind is enclosed in a cell

    but even in exhaustion it feels hope and struggles to maintain the life

    it destroys itself, but wishes to turn that which is dead into something living

    pale and thin, but sometimes my eyes sparkle and record momentary transformations

    something is moving inside to make all this happen

    particles

    fluids

    bird wing

    sadness

    love

    warmth of bodies under the sheets

    but she suddenly feels cold

    i dream of an embryo falling into cold depths

    skeletal

    inside the flesh and the desire

    inside the crack

    inside the broken heart

    inside the faceless child

    from inside flows blood

    bleeding heart

    bleeding vagina

    bleeding animal on the slaughter walls

    blood on the sheets

    bleeding heart seeping into the stomach down through the bleeding intestines out through the bleeding womb

    the cook cuts meat with care and delicacy. he cuts out the fat and gristle, tenderly coats the flesh with oil. he closes the clean oven door

    slit open to feed the bleeding mouths

    bleeding crack in the slaughtered animal torn apart

    pain and sadness and blood of the animal under the butchers knives

    eyes staring through watery membrane

    animal crying

    alone under the knife

    and the hammer that crushes the bone of the skull

    and the tenderness

    and removes all hope and life

    as i write this i see the face of the doll

    but also i see the face of my love

    i cannot tell what she thinks and knows

    i wish it was obvious

    that i care for her

    doll, i realise that she is plastic

    not alive

    but she is real

    only doll understands my desires and fears

    but because she is plastic

    she cannot speak

    empty shell

    empty state

    doll, if she were alive

    would feel the instant leading to the conception

    the child, mother and father still connected

    doll, if she were alive, would feel what we feel

    separation

    between thighs

    when doll is in the concrete cell i have built for her

    and she is burning

    she feels no pain because she is simply a doll

    plastic

    she cannot speak because she aspires to a beauty that is false

    doll is wrapped in bandages

    sleeping on a bed of flowers

    but she feels nothing

    because she is neither alive nor dead

    she is plastic

    and false hair

    but i care for her

    and when she is on fire

    do not think that this is pain

    doll knows that she will never die

    (do you also feel what she cannot feel?)

    doll speaks what you will not say

    doll undresses you when you wrap up tight

    she is more naked than you will allow yourself to be

    inside her plastic skin

    a chemical which heals and gives us life

    but so fragile it cannot be isolated

    when i look at her face

    i see the face of a plastic doll

    and i want someone to understand what i have done to her

    doll's body records patterns and forms that heal what her chemicals cannot heal

    and which allow her to live

    feel love

    grow old and weak

    and feel pain

    doll gives form to that which turns inside

    formless babies

    with eyes that see the inside of your smooth belly

    a skin for living from found materials outside

    to understand what is human but is without blood

    doll lives a silent life

    with no ears to hear the sound

    no mouth to release the groans

    of bodies making love behind closed doors

    an embrace that brings the hearts closer

    when i cannot see the warm blood of her heart i come home to question doll

    who is without blood

    if doll could love

    she would understand what we do not

    we play games and back away from embraces

    when i listen to her speaking

    i am looking through her clothes

    with eyes against her skin

    i am listening to her breathing

    her heart

    eyes closed

    i can see no form

    i hear nothing

    i feel warmth

    all i am trying to do is make my love for her clear so that she can see

    but she does not tell me what she feels

    doll's body records for every warmth and closeness a loss

    a loneliness

    a cold space

    doll burns to purify the air inside her

    i wish that this was obvious

    that she would understand

    that there is everything inside

    look around you - what do you see?

    look inside yourself - what do you feel? 

    there is a small droplet of dried blood on the inside of the shell

    there was life here but now there is just a plastic skin

    is there life in that which is inanimate?

    is there pain in that which does not feel?

    inside doll there is love

    horror

    suffering

    and unseen truths of the doll body

    feminine blood and male blood

    and without speaking sometimes i know that she is lonely and afraid

    but we never say

    and so it is all a terrible waste

    the young girl's dress

    chequered flower pattern matches the tiled wall

    on which hangs the freshly slaughtered body of an animal

    and on the floor

    a mannequin contorted in the struggle but also as if it is still alive

    the old woman holds a doll by its arm

    she looks out

    the doll glances sideways

    the remains of the mannequin head pointing upwards

    the calf head hanging

    barely connected to the blood of its body

    limp and bleached white

    the girl's doll is pure white and naked

    there are symbols on its body

    the curve torn apart

    vase shapes in the form of breasts

    stains on the walls follow lines along the varnished disinfected surface

    formaldehyde used in solution as a disinfectant

    combining form

    the termination of chloro-form

    all objects flattened into a uniform orange mist

    suspension of disease

    unease of the mind of the doll

    behind the face of the doll

    all smooth moulded eyes

    dreams and thoughts of the doll

    feelings of the doll body in the doll mind

    small child hands with fingers moulded together

    plastic body wrapped in bandages, prepared

    the body pushing its internal tubes outwards through raw and tender openings

    sterilised

    the plastic doll

    connected to plasticine shapes

    fixed by glue that almost dries clear

    to the flesh of magazines

    of women

    holding their breasts out

    without thinking the worms eat through

    archetypal forms

    automatic legs spread apart

    so as to automate the hungry cock

    the belly and the vagina of the doll

    replaced by a breast form

    an eye looking inwards to an intestine

    because of the impossibility of showing the blood or the flesh

    everything seems so unavoidable

    section from doll

    plastic skin

    open plastic pores

    and entrances

    all desire and thought

    all sex

    externalised

    suffocating in the skin

    the hollow inside

    an empty space untouched by rape and brutality

    and spilling of liquids on smooth plastic skin

    the doll asleep

    steady breathing in the airless interior

    calm

    but dreams full of fear

    contained in vessels

    is there a horror that can frighten our small bodies

    is there a fear that can cause hurt

    or a violent hand

    and memories that cause pain

    inside there is a small space

    which is a room within a room

    in which their bodies sleep

    doll is enclosed in a liquid that preserves her

    doll is enclosed in a vacuum in which she breathes

    doll is enclosed in the guts of a fish that feeds her

    doll is enclosed in a solution of semen

    doll is enclosed in water from plants

    doll is enclosed in barbed wire

    doll is enclosed in a cell, her skin touches all sides

    doll is enclosed but her insides are outside

    doll is still a doll

    untouchable

    doll is cast solid then shattered

    doll is melted then reformed

    doll is burnt, her gases fill the cell

    doll is enclosed in a liquid that slowly dissolves her

    leaving only glass eyes

    doll opens her mouth to reveal...

    doll spreads her legs to reveal...

    doll holds out her hands to offer...

    doll opens her body, and stares inside

    doll is hungry, her eye sockets are empty and black

    doll is asleep, her eyes are closed

    doll is looking at you, with vacant plastic stare

    doll is looking inside herself

    doll, do you understand me now?

    glass vessel shaped around the curve of the hips and breasts

    containing flesh preserved

    the glass jar of the nightmare containing bone and blood and gristle

    kept in a clean white fridge amongst the milk and food

    and also there in the empty street

    a glass jar in the middle of the road containing a crushed piece of what was a limb?

    the skin torn off

    like meat hanging from the hooks in a shop window

    without the skin

    suspended in the solution in the jar to keep it fresh

    that twists the stomach

    and is always there on the retina

    splayed dog cast on the dirty concrete

    i believe in trust and happiness

    but there is cowardice within the flesh which must be dissected out

    all the hurt of loss, we can trace it back to moments of doubt

    failed memory

    embedded within the flesh

    dead dog on the pavement until it is cleared away

    the dog tumbling under the car

    lifted off the ground like a rag doll

    all four legs flailing off the surface

    a dead space

    the dog tumbling underneath it

    then there is an inert body on the road

    the cry of the animal as i lifted it to the pavement

    and i cannot touch it

    the memory of the dog alive and the dead dog are inseparable

    a delirious dead space 3" above the road surface

    dead fluids draining onto the pavement

    an incomplete pain is the most painful of them all

    disease of the skin clutching to the bone

    the plant is dead

    its leaves are dry

    mouse is dead

    although you did not hear him die

    there is darkness, thick smoke filled air

    a doll that bleeds

    there is a burning of roots in a special place

    mouse is dead, but there is still the body

    inside the flesh that could not be killed

    inside the flesh that could not be made porn

    there is peace in this warm room

    hands rest naturally on gentle thighs

    bodies in this night

    i wish that they sleep with quiet dreams

    material shapes around her warm breasts

    smooth stomach and into the unseen

    and arm resting on curve of the hips

    she is lying facing me, she is looking into my eyes. her lips are parted, i reach out to touch her skin

    she has spread her legs wide, so i can see. she shows herself, without feeling

    follow blooded white of bone into the inside of the body

    onto the legs rests the pelvic bones, which enclose a space

    a chamber dark and red

    full of moisture rested under weight of smooth flesh

    moulded around curves and hollows 

    and lace support

    upon which rests a doll and a severed hand

    and inside our wire-frame bodies

    there sometimes seems to be nothing, other times something solid inside

    she absorbs our pain

    bodies cold and clammy lie discarded in ditches

    from the stomach to the vagina

    fire, alkaline, wish

    and when we touch we would feel

    inside of ourselves we can be happy and we can be close together

    we can be without fear and pain and unhappiness

    but there is something we cannot see that separates us

    a cell, an empty vessel, a mirror

    stretched gut tears

    gentle hand

    stroking her smooth body

    i wasn't thinking of anything

    with my finger inside her

    except, i just want her to feel pleasure

    and my blood rushes

    there is something incommunicable

    about being inside someone

    there is something moving inside, something gentle and receptive

    sometimes i do not know what i feel

    i fear a pressure

    a tiny hand holds a birdwing, placing it in the birdnest, because that is all that can be done now the bird is dead

    i dream that we are lying together and we feel no doubt

    i dream that one day i will travel to a desert, where in places symbols are engraved in the sand

    i can see very clearly empty windowless rooms with thick heavy doors whose hinges have long since petrified, leaving the doors slightly ajar, but impassable. smoke filled air in which nightmares are held in suspension, warmth and blood light with no source drifting through imperceptably slowly, translucent and ghost-like stairs which wind up and down in all directions through the levels, shadows under which ashes shift and slip between the cracks, crumbling stone walls whose foundations descend far from sight

    this was my home, i found peace here, a very long time ago

    and in the cellars where there is neither light nor air, there will still be rows and rows of containers stacked up to the ceiling, perfectly sealed and never opened

    when we sleep sometimes our bodies curl up into a foetus form, and if we could remain conscious whilst deep in sleep, we would feel an invisible warm blood on our skin and see our thoughts rise like bubbles from breathing in the depths

    doll is what i found,

    briefly before returning her to a quiet place

    i wanted to explain

    the space between us which causes pain

    i made a map of this space

    but now it is being torn apart

    its pieces lie all around like a shattered vase

    like the doll it describes

    and her feelings it created

    it is broken so that it can be put back together again

    although she was not so easy to mend as i thought

    in fact it is near impossible

    if we wanted to keep things as they were (as we had wanted them to be)

    and let memories rest in peace

    which we know can't be done so it is just a question of arranging the broken pieces as best we can

    if we look to chemistry to heal what we cannot heal ourselves

    as if we were children back in school, trying to understand periodic tables of elements

    we find that some elements are stable, but together they are all unstable

    their order is one of unrest

    and compression

    when she strains to see inside of herself she sees blood
    and impenetrable elements
    feelings and memories
    remains
    inside our bodies there are tight knots which prevent us from saying what we feel
    even in love and happiness
    i did not speak when perhaps i should have done
    ugly heads might raise up out of the skin and ruin everything
    and in a chemical cell bodies lie helpless
    i felt i could not change doll text any more, sometimes it feels sad and happy
    today also i was happy
    a sense of impending completion
    many feelings, i know this is where a fundamental strength of simplicity lies
    which i can see growing inside when everything else has been artificially numbed
    doll would know, if she could, that she will never die
    her hands reach out in their moulded lines
    and even when still our bodies are like babies
    moving inside
    it is not enough to know all pain and happiness
    is internal
    please say something to me that will bring us together
    between hope and guilt
    doll words lie
    and doubt is because we feel a pain
    between our actions and the things which we want
    to measure ourselves
    define ourselves
    what are we? from raped body to vicious dog
    what have we done? there is something else:

    although she cannot speak, when i undress her every month she knows exactly what i want

    she wears a different face each time

    she strips for him, she is so brave

    but tonight he doesn't want her to pretend

    he just wants to love her ...

    last night she wanted to be held but he held back

    and when she feels she sees a tunnel

    crawling with fear

    he could never understand

    because all he sees is darkness inside.

    words are placed upon her lips by machines which imitate our thoughts,

    we understand how necessary the manipulation is
    but in exhaustion we are lonely and feel a strange guilt

    i needed your warmth

    but i couldn't give you everything you wanted

    perhaps because of this i grew sick of ideals

    i am sorry for hurting you

    'i love you' i never said, until the very end,

    i didn't want to reduce it, i didn't want to fool you

    i wanted trust

    i feared closeness becoming cold

    i am afraid of death,

    it brings to an end, for now and for perhaps a very long time,

    all the good things that could have been done ...

    we cannot see any blood

    but i can feel my body swelling

    i see the flesh but it is not here to touch

    i understand now that we can touch without the flesh having form

    and feel without doubt

    with ever increasing evolution

    pornography invades the body

    winding barbs into the arms and the legs of my hollow toy doll

    sleep now in the arms of make-believe angels,

    Faith and Compassion

    i took just a little poison

    drip by drip

    but she had swallowed the lot

    i know that she had felt so much pain

    i wanted to heal both of us, but found that when i turned to kiss my sleeping pretty angel,

    i gave her love as best i could

    but also a hoard of demons, against which i had no antidote

    i wanted to show beautiful curves

    into which our bodies fall without their skin

    i felt that if i could counteract the endless pornographic addiction

    something would be created that was purified

    of desperation and longing,

    images that unify

    we have between us only strategies of description and honesty,

    blurred vision

    self-immolation

    our feelings are fixed and battered

    but there is something deeper that we need to uncover

    underlying this veneer

    with depressing regularity it falls to pieces

    at the slightest touch of reality

    i walked for miles even though it was raining and i felt tired, 

    i should have been inside in the warmth

    but i couldn't rest.

    the girl behind the counter saw the glossy cover

    perhaps sometimes she had looked inside,

    still,

    we shouldn't have felt ashamed

    she is just like you and me, in the end

    she shows her body

    but she cannot see who is looking,

    nor really understand what they feel

    when they are alone with her

    she is unaware of what she is doing

    but she is well aware of what is said about her,

    by people she will never meet.

    Diane,

    our acts of kindness are bred in our minds somewhere inside

    from seeds until we lay them out

    hoping for understanding

    violence seems random and invisible

    our elegance is full of ruin

    and unexplained madness

    our moralities are diseased and our hopes are false

    we do not understand.

    our works of beauty contain images of ourselves as we will never see

    until it is too late

    and we are knifing ourselves

    beating our loved ones

    murdering our friends, and we are dead

    kept alive within by viruses born of torture and animal tissue,

    she was bleeding tears, her eyes were torn from the inside

    very frightened, when we are cruelly obese

    when we fill our guts until they can hold no more

    in claustrophobic carriages made of rotten wood,

    they were crying in the streets

    in churches full of pure water, and our limbs are mechanically emptied

    bloodless

    full of seeping fluid. a face with sunken eyes and bloodshot stone skin looks up and sees what we cannot,

    abiding warmth inside our cold hearts

    is it outside of our gentle and hope filled dreams?

    in a room somewhere now

    a young girl is tied down,

    petrol poured on her breasts and belly

    a lighted match between her legs

    she is about to be raped

    her child split,

    is it stronger than what we believe in?

    in a quiet stretch of countryside the sound of the plough preparing its fields,

    soft and heavy

    earth

    breathing

    blades, tended and prepared for seeds

    inside of ourselves

    still warm fluids from our birth

    there must be hope, there must be beauty, we say

    but in truth,

    we are willing to do so little

    our hearts are peaceful but needles puncture

    if our hearts were pure our cuts would heal ... i see a homeless girl die with her baby inside

    in flames

    and a field full of bodies churned up and minced

    it feels worse than slow decline, to see inside

    a mind in which disease is unavoidable,

    if we could see outside of ourselves

    under a strange blue light

    always a great danger that if i don't find some peace, i will destroy it all

    cruel and vicious, immune to guilt.

    give me images of starvation,

    cruelty in deserted bombed cities

    give me a broken relationship,

    the cost of sanctions given to us as photographs of dying babies, slipping through our gut-retching anaesthesia

    something inside broke

    i can't say exactly when, wet heavy threads just holding

    sinking bellies and breasts

    something somewhere must have gently snapped to explain why i feel as i do ...

    our hope is absorbed in images of horror

    our art is poisoned and reflective, in starvation we are only making things worse

    but we are trying to be honest

    paintings made of resin

    and more hope than could possibly be contained,

    in these flat worlds of mangled bodies and abstracted feelings 

    a smile from someone is all it takes to protect me from doubt

    in the warmth between layers of oil images

    our most intimate thoughts

    feverish babies

    with red infected skins

    i wanted the doll to live

    its beauty is cruel, if there is any hope then you will see through our differences

    believe in me but not necessarily forgive me

    believe in me and i will always try to free

    intensive care

    it is not about finding love or friendship,

    it is to be able to construct images

    whose clarity would otherwise drive us into suicide, but so carefully prepared we can look upon them and say;

    this is true, this is what we are.

    there are stories 2000 years old of a great being who had once been human

    but who then realised that if we examine the mechanisms of thought, the movement from one to another, then we will find within ourselves that our humanity is nothing more than a fragile shell

    we are deluded in thinking that our love is calm,

    as the mist clears above the raging surface we could see ourselves

    huge sparkling cities of violent insect thoughts

    when we are being crushed under the pressure of a million tiny fears, and it is difficult to breathe

    it is difficult to move even our finger-tips off the surface

    our eyelids are heavy like lead sheets,

    it is too late for wishes,

    how much are you willing to sacrifice, how deep into the dark waters will you go to be sure that your beliefs are not diseased?

    how close to the time are you now when you must finally define your will to live?

    i see a hole in the ground

    that leads many hundreds of feet into the cold depths

    the soil here is thick and clammy, if demons exist then it is here that they live

    in moist air

    immense dark caves

    there is a little light,

    reflecting off their huge round eyes, enough for them to see,

    when we are asleep and curled up

    our warm bodies under the covers but our dreams drifting into spaces where the air is heavy and tight

    in warmth

    in a heavy flooded cell

    inspite of everything,

    my hopes give rise to promises

    uncontainable medicines, often almost believing that i can come close to synthesising some of them

    in the night-time, i drive myself to exhaustion trying to describe the beating of a restless heart

    lying in bed listening to the constant gentle hum inside,

    i see flailing hands and lost bodies floating, but such a long way away

    they go down luminous and minute once more

    into a huge black depth

    a single wish takes form

    that we were together, and that our engines of fear will for just a moment fall silent

    i will let your loneliness out of its carefully guarded cage

    i will help you take apart your defenses

    so that you are no longer immune

    and when we are close, joined

    i will give you medicine
    i will hold you and give you all my strength

    i will heal all your pain, if you promise me

    you will mend my open wounds
    you will kiss me in the dark
    you will never leave me,

    tell me that my dreams are safe with you

    they feed, beaks glistening

    torn and separated

    they swing around over a bright yellow desert land,

    a beautiful young girl holds out her hand, a small lake of deep blue water, a sun high in the sky

    burns our skin but we lived there, we were happy,

    and when father gave us our first stone, we all looked up

    our mother had tears in her eyes

    we understood but could not explain, that these stones were special. i realised when it was too late and i was alone, these hearts were kind and loving in a way that has made me what i am, many years later when i found these stones hidden deep inside, they were still sparkling

    we can generate warmth

    in a deep core our elements are inflamed

    but these jewels absorb and reform suffering and unhappiness,

    warmth which would otherwise leave us when the winter comes around again.




  • July 1990 - January 1995