This happy happy
precious New Year
is brought to you by
20,000 gods and pepsi.

Walking along and I get a whiff of
something really stinky, to my white nose anyway.

Ni Hao, Ni Hao,
exchange the paper he has a wispy goatee I notice.
Thumbs up, check!
go old V.W. go!
I love these older taxis, they ride a bit rough and have that old car smell, reminding me of my first car.
He strokes his wisp at the lights.
A small girls runs in front of us at the intersection, luckily we miss her.
Three little boys walk along – they look cute and wonderful. A mural, a new apartment block, much less advertising than Seoul.
My head clearer, still fear / headache but no penis. (Word impossible to read.)

Another country, another (—) – same music / where rich kids come to vomit.

It’s a bad day to be
A pop-star with a dark-side

Or a husband with
A child bride

Or a bush dweller
On red rock

Got to get better
Got to wake up
Rebuild and
Drink cool water

I could be in a coma
I’m a city dweller
A dark-side and a temper

But it’s all make believe
And my Koala’s getting scary
Tentacles from his face.

What a meat-puppet diatribe of a birthday.
I douse myself in rubbing alcohol and prepare for another year.

i feel alright
and i know there’s many things i’ll never do again
but this morning i feel seventeen full of promise again
1000 thoughts and wonder come into my mind
like a space voyage returning
shimmering
everythingallatonce

i’m a good man
in the kingdom
of doom
but it’s alright
she her shake
see him hold her
see them kiss
it’s going on
everything
all
at
once

i don’t need to dance for my supper
i’ve got heaven in mind
my shelter is not stolen
nor made of broken bones
i watch the loneliness
but don’t fear it, ’cause i know
its name
everythingisnotalone

i’m nice, but not nice enough to break laws for.

Television ain’t no creation, it’s killing my procreation.

- Picture of two submarines about to crash –

Guarding a field of modest yield.

————————————————–

Newer post:
and the sirens
sound the same in
Hong Kong or under
the Saudi sun

—–

You wear your insoles
on your outsoles,
but your bark is
coloured chalk.

i could have done so much, but fear of being

of being a man

of me, held me back

no longer.

——

I was the Ayatollah, planning a bombing in Mt. Maunganui?  It didn’t go well, but in the end I decided to blow it up without harming anyone – I was no longer committed to the cause…

I knew my own people would be after me as well as the police…

I got a pocket jet pack, which I sat in (POV), but somehow I also had to ride like a mini-bike.  It jetted up to Northland – up to Auckland – past?  I was going too fast, I tried to stop – gravel flying – I worked it out, how to reverse the jet – I stopped and then came across our base, a fort in a hill bank, but it had been turned into some kind of Hindu cult – I tried to steal a truck, but they caught me, they had discovered who I was – they had heard what I’d done, so they were excited to see me.

An incident – I broke their holy relic – we turned into monkeys, me and a friend, rolling balls  - the chase as monkeys, different tribes of monkeys – swinging, running, the balls light brown / dark brown – following the balls.

We found our own tribe, across a gap, our pursuers couldn’t cross and follow.  We were safe.

A bus ride when the driver left, down a winding road with William S. Burroughs waiting for us, we chatted with him and he was blood letting.
He said some interesting things.