The Vegan Gathering

The walls are covered with the sewn-together corpses of rotting Meat-eaters. The Vegans lure them in with steaks and then bring out The Cows.

The Cows are trained to hate Meat-eaters. The Vegans keep them chained up to walls all day in front of enormous television screens. The screens show demented and dishevelled Meat-eaters, rolling around in the blood of dead animals until their skin is caked. These heinous orgies are endless.

Sometimes the Vegans even show The Cows movie footage of their mothers being systematically raped and murdered - old cows, young cows, the Meat-eaters don’t care. They fuck them violently and then turn them into mouth-watering hamburgers.

Of course the Meat-eaters in these videos are merely Vegans in disguise. But The Cows don’t know any better. They are driven mad by these images. Throw into the mix branding irons and starvation and you have a league of very pissed-off cows.

The Vegans then release them on to unsuspecting Meat-eaters. Their eyes glow red and steam shoots out of their flared-up nostrils. They trample the Meat-eaters to death and then play football with their corpses. The loud Moo-ing of the cows mixes with the screams of the Meat-eaters, and reverbates throughout the cavern.

The leader of the Vegans, aka Clap-trap, is sexually stimulated by the spectacle. She licks her lips and salivates while shoving vegetables into her bulbous vagina. She particularly likes the feel of aubergines and asparagus, but not carrots, as they are too phallic.

Clap-trap has summoned all of the Vegans of the land to her headquarters. They gather by candlelight on the darkest night of the year. Blood drips gently down from the Meat-eater tapestries hanging on the wall. They lap it up greedily and wait expectantly for the arrival of their leader.

A hushed silence falls as Clap-trap appears on the stage...but wait! It is only Clap-trap B, or ‘B’ as her close acquaintances refer to her.

“Fellow superior beings” begins B, “I am very honoured to introduce to you our Divine Leader, aka Clap-trap”. The Vegans start stamping their feet wildly and gnashing their death. They are wet with anticipation and wild with excitement.

Blue lights come on, revealing a pathway to the stage. The pathway is made up of male Meat-eaters who have been sown together by their genitalia. Their faces are arranged to face upwards where steaks hang tauntingly. The smell drives them wild but they can’t reach it. Most of them are nearly dead with starvation and madness.

A spotlight shows Clap-trap. She walks over the sewn-together Meat-eaters.

She stands at the podium. Vegans throughout the building start having orgasms. Some faint. It’s all too much.

“Fellow Superior Beings” , begins Clap-trap. “I am here to speak to you about the Meat-eaters. (The Vegans hiss and spit). “We already know that we are far superior to these ape-like beings (cheers, whistles) who cannot be spiritual, or show compassion, or love. We all know that the world would be a far better place without them (cheers, yells of joy), and thanks to me, Your Divine Superior Majesty, the time has eventually come. (the audience go wild and start rubbing their wet vaginas together)

Before I explain more I will invite our three Vegan Representatives, Natalie Portman, Pink and Alanis Morrisette on to the stage.” (The Vegans go wild and start bringing out vegetables and shoving them into their Vegan orifices).

(Enter Natalie Portman)

“Fellow superior beings – Do you know that Meat-eaters have had the cheek, the audacity, to actually say that they, yes THEY like my new film, Black Swan??” (The audience start booing and jumping up and down).

(Enter Alanis Morrisette)

“Fellow superior beings- do you know that if it wasn’t for Meat-eaters buying my one decent album, Jagged Little Pill, I would have become a has-been even sooner?” (The audience hiss like snakes)

(Enter Pink)

“Fellow superior beings – I am a BULL DYKE. I like dykes, and I like bulls, but do you know what I hate? Men and Meat-eaters!” (The Vegans laugh dementedly and start screaming)

Clap-trap returns. “Thank you, Vegan celebrities. It is wonderful to see you cashing in on the vegan-bandwagon. Like you, we are tired of these sub-human Meat-eaters who we are obviously much better than. (wild cheers) We do not have chips on our shoulders, we just know that we are superior. We know that we would sooner fuck an animal than a person, and we know that Meat-eaters were created without souls. To demonstrate this, I am now going to spit roast a baby...

Dwarves with Enormous Phalluses

A red light flickers. On and off, on and off. Over and over again into eternity.

What to do? Buckle my shoe. Honey bees float through.

Summer. A mentally disturbed obese woman swats them with her jaundiced toes. Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz.

The severe-looking librarian with the spectacles falls asleep in the corner of the hall, snuggled up to her book. She has a wet dream about being endlessly ravaged by dwarfs with enormous phalluses.

"We are gathered here today, daily beloved"

Ravens croak and float on the wind. She sits in a room, waiting. Nobody appears. She doesn't know how long she's been waiting. Maybe she's already dead.

A little girl in a white petticoat screams. The windows smash.

A blue bird is trapped in the garage. It can't see the glass and keeps banging its beak, over and over and over again.

The Shamanic healers gather underneath the yellow moon for an orgy. They are dressed up as clowns. They shove balloons into every orifice while a wolf howls from inside the tree.

Wouldn't it be awful to die in this wilderness?

I've been walking for ages but I still can't find the snake.

A huntsman spider sits on the toilet seat. Tropical storms rage outside as lightening flashes and rain masturbates furiously against the window, where the morn meets the dew.

Pay back God's things to God, and Caesar's to Caesar. The Whore of Babylon skips through the spring-time field with a large dragon. They ejacualte blood into the mouths of anyone who crosses their way. The Lord floats above the sky, rubbing his hands.

Young virgins tie themselves to trees with barbed wire, legs spread wide, waiting to be ravished.

A demented tranny with blue hair, pink lipstick  and seeping pus-filled sores dances through the forest singing Abba songs. Anifred and Agnetha bare their teeth, gnashing and snarling like dogs. A monkey hops alongs the pebbled beach as a tempest rages. The sky is red and the sun is falling.

The League is only open for elderly gentlemen with long, flowing beards. They gather on a cliff top on the darkest night of the year to sing hymns to Satan. The night is progressing as usual when Madness seeps in from On High and they all start throwing themselves off the cliff, to be dashed against the rocks below.

Their bodies smash into blood, bones and bile. Mermaids resting on the rocks nearby gather around for a feeding frenzy. Scarlet blood drips off their chins under the purple moonlight.

Brown Eyes and Lithium

Purple fills the room. Mustn't look, let's not make it too obvious.

Today's lesson was so boring that someone out on the street started screaming.

Cultural injection. Close my eyes and drift. Forgot where I was.  I was sold on Spain but Japan is calling me. I see myself walking through green mist on a blue morning. Water kisses. A golden temple looms on the left. Insence filters throughout cold marble. A monk sits motionless.

Back in the Ulster Hall the petite conductor whirls her stick like a harpy. A cacaphony of faces bubble under the river bed. It's like thinking you're just one pebble amongst millions and then realising you are the beach, and the sea as well. Where did that come from? Load of old shit.

Red faces browse shelves of books. Coffee floats.

Probably not the best idea, asking if he had gypsy connections. Note to self - think before speak. Banter got tiresome without the anti-depressants. Voices droned on in the background. Flower grew up her arm.

What to talk about though? "Pardon me, but I want you to ride me senseless in front of the slide robes."  Maybe I should take up smoking again.

Try not to look in that direction. What's underneath? Leg shakes frantically.

Wax-covered wine bottles on wooden tables. Faded programmes of long-forgotten acts hang off the wall. A labyrinth of dust, and books. Dream-like twenties swing vibrates out of the transistor.

Try to focus on words.

The old woman overseeing it all is pleasant but faded, peeling off the wall like one of the programmes. She goes out for a smoke and watches the traffic from a haze. Sadness settles like dust.

Ghostly jazz echoes.

The park is dismal, overcast and forgotten, apart from the pretend-punk couple, the beer and the radio.

I see myself in the middle of the grass. Frisbees hover under the sunshine. Summer of love. Pity he turned out to be such a cunt.

Nice to have a body beside you in the bed. Too caught up in my head now. No room. Brown eyes. Must stop harassing the Shaman. But what was the snake? Tired of it all.

Just close my eyes. Lose myself in the music. So detached right now. The movie unravels. Need some hard fucking. Lies. Need a body.

Eyes to get lost in

Hair to ruffle

Arms to spoon

Wake up with someone else. Remind you that the world doesn't exist in your head. Still, second chance. Motion propels ever onwards.

Billie Holiday sings sadly about the moon while Josh pontificates. Jesus Christ give that man some lithium, I think I'm picking up on a theme.

Bisexuals, Bulls, and Roy Orbison

Weak winter sunshine absorbed by a sponge. Busy weekend cafe. Low-level voices click against cutlery. Light gropes through. Yellow glow on checked tables. Prefer it quiet. Fades back to cloud.

Head buzzing a bit. Worth it though. That's what they say, isn't it? Abba spread out to fill the gap.

He loves Geology. It's a new subject.

Pink lips curl slightly. Hair is a raven. Timid girl floats behind her glasses like a bird. Clings to granny like a doll.

The hair and the blood and the breasts. Not wanting to be in your own skin. Puberty waits for no man.

Brief Bohemian Rhapsody interlude. Slight leap of joy inside when song begins. Then all  of a sudden the gong. Nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters....too meeee.
Cafe reappears slowly.

That dream about the bull ring. Walked in a side entrance and realised. Running of the bulls a bit evil. Prove your manhood by getting gored. Still, why not apply? Spanish cafes, cobbles, churches, cathedrals. Muy tipico. Ya Ya, Dank.

Table relaxes now the awkward bird girl has left. Glasses steam up with tears as she sits beside the box. Smell of lillies.

...

Derek swayed gently behind his tenth pint. Foggy red-faced head. The sexuality question.

All on a scale, Kinsey, fluid, no one fully this or that. Ya da ya da ya da.

Curious as to why I thought him bisexual. Bit scrawny like but something about him. Don't want to be one of those queers that give us a bad name. Can't be friends with a straight without wanting a piece of their knob.

Always comes up one way or another. But, now there was surprise. I had no idea. Funny drunk face. Highly amused at being in a gay bar. Nice chest. Pretty brown eyes. Question - did the eyes become cute before or after the bi-ness? Maybe I am also a bi.

Couldn't breathe. Faces down on the table. Uncontrollable laughter worth twenty meditation sessions.

More coffee.

Cupping action. Barking up the wrong tree, obviously.

Sticky feet, boke. She had noticed my shoes. Well, nothing wrong with a splash of colour.

Peeling off his tight black boxers. What would it taste like? To put my tongue...

Lights flash. Strobe. All the drunk gays. So predictable. Hideous queens. He didn't get it. Just like a straight person who had got lost. Wonder what his boyfriend was like? Wonder who fucked who?

Burroughs, Beats. Hundreds of cafes in obscure European towns spread out before me.

Drunk hugging with strangers. Bearing life stories as they cleaned the glasses behind the bar. Lights came on. Drunk gays formed a procession out into the night. Straights into hell. Flames sparked and smoked in the corner. I think he preferred her. Maybe he wanted a menage a trois?

...

Love this Roy Orbison song. Makes me want to get up and jump around the room. Nice to go out and not feel like a tag-a-long.

A Sad Parody

You need to get off that mountain. You live down here now.

The ice blue and the sky pink. Moon hung over the high rise. But how did I get here, of all places? The city lights reborn. Yellow cranes. Wing lights flicker, expectant.

Tired of the dark. Breath became mist. Smoke floated through the dark. You could taste it crackling. Comforting somehow, to think of orange flames, gentle sofas and moving images.

That place, exactly the same. Recognised him from school. Had long hair back then. Best to pretend. £3.65 please.

Same boat as I. The mickey mouse course, a sad parody. Tease you with a glimpse and then rip it away again.

Thought I saw the old school librarian walking down the road at lunch. Similar legs.

Another plane. Follow it across the cityscape until it vanishes. Imagine all the people living in the little houses below. They always say you're running away from something. Prefer it if you rot.

Need to let go. That place. Dreamt that Year 8 had bought me a Christmas present, all nicely wrapped. Forgot to open it. Brown paper bag. Wonder who stands in front of them now? I still wake up and think I have to go in.
Can't step out of it any more. Swept along like a piece of wood. Even when I sit there, in front of the candles. Still have to return. Wonder is there a plan or is it all just blind groping? Don't hide your light under a bushel.

Love this song. Forgot how much. Dark, atmospheric, beautiful. Just perfect. Like floating through a dream.
Makes me want to go outside. Breath in the cold winter moonlight bouncing off the roof. So many stars.

Wrapped in cold late at night.

The Mulberry Bush

Altercation on the avenue. Police v Immigrant. They hunt in packs like hyenas. "Go home!" Eyes black. What gives you the right? Maggot in a petri dish.

Who was that on the door? Wasn't even going into shop. Faint trill of recognition. Past.

Hospital gave me a sore head. Yellow paint pealed off the building like a tumor. The smell. Human animal. Naked.

Bit more ordinary with the glasses on. Lights came on behind. City obscured by cloud. Cars, lights. Asleep in the rush hour.

Then the tears. The embrace of two swans on a frozen lake. A life shared. Corridors upon corridors. Expanse of memory. The black and white wedding photo on the mantelpiece.

Nurse! Nurse! Constant, soft like he wasn't sure who was speaking, or why. Blue eyes of life on a body of death. And then the scream. What was he seeing?

Terrifying for reality to be pulled out from beneath your feet like a carpet. The precipice
beckons. Closed over eye in the corner. Some sense of humour. Moments of existence culminate. In what?

Funny to be in this bright coffee shop. All these people. Lips moving. What are they talking about? Do they even know themselves? Some joke alright.

Laughter from down the hallway. Ever step outside. Watch from afar.

I woke up and saw a kestrel perched on the wire. In the kitchen it floated across the field. I see my reflection in the mirror as I write. Green shoes - purple t shirt. Ashtray sits. Buses go past in the darkness. Music jangles irritatingly. What to do?

Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush, early in the morning.

The Red King

Expanse of space. Body fell off and truth shone through.
But what to do? Still driving the vehicle. Limited or limitless according to perception. Question of distance.

Open eyes to look around. Trust.

Wind blows. Dark countryside. Down the chimney. Want to go out in it. Wander the country lanes like a spirit. White or black. Funny to see for the first time.

Cars drive past. Fade. Music filters. Neverending corridors. Windows fly open. Music soars on to the moment. White. Majestic. Green eyes glow. Creator exists in a mirror.

The others. Glad to get out. Why destroy? That thing. Middle of room. Greasy hair.

Alice and the red king. Awful to be a character in another person's dream.

Like lying on the water being carried by the waves. If you know that the rocks can't actually dash you into pieces then why fear them?