posted on February 3, 2014 at 11:13 am
la smith (for no particular reason)

la smith (for no particular reason)


In the avenue of the armistice

war has damaged the graves of the peacemakers

Me and some fading actress lying drunken underneath the plane trees

Our fingers are dripping lemon and salt in the sea air

Above us mackerel cloud and salmon sunset

Below us white river upon black swan

Sentry upon century

Mausoleums loom up suddenly emptying us of our mirth and our fucking chuckle

We stumble all the stagger way home clutching our bottle of nepenthe like it was an oracle or a lamb

On the darkening streets the new night is warm and stormy

A certain recklessness has filled the quickened city

More than ever the moon filled sky presses up to windows to gaze in

We meet our friends the acrobat Lucid and Mallet the carpenter in a park

Torches fire across the harbour and the reflections of smoke swim on the sea

Some strange drug has numbed my tongue and I hum dumbly

Some distant star has crossed my path I can feel it rather halved

The revelers dressed as ghosts called out for more music and thus it begins

The big drum pounding in my veined interior mirror

We glide over fogged time pieces lay forever shattered

At the Splendid Bull with the decantered wonderful wine of Wednesday now gone

And the faded flotsam and jaded jetsam cast away out of the Emperors sight

A time of long sleeps and small dreams




8 Responses to “colony of the empire”

  1. avatar
    Steven Krut | 3 February 2014 at 1:04 pm #

    “war has damaged the graves of the peacemakers” – That’s a great line.

  2. avatar
    Anonymous | 3 February 2014 at 1:39 pm #

    Irrelevant dreams at that.

  3. avatar
    eekie | 3 February 2014 at 1:53 pm #

    That’s an absolutely riveting painting. And available to purchase!

  4. avatar
    Kohl Ette | 3 February 2014 at 5:06 pm #

    The lover stumbled after him
    only she be fading older lady
    she had something to say
    it wasn’t that her tongue was numbed
    more that her eyes were engaged
    and she followed him
    observing how he allowed himself to be taken from wonderful waking reveries
    to explore something unforeseen
    but not necessarily inevitable,
    still he was swept along
    and she in the wake
    watching how he struggled
    through the sagas
    and marvelled how he survived
    his body sometimes sunk
    but his spirit would rise
    she had wondered about ghosts yesterday
    – did they breathe?
    they wouldn’t be ghosts
    if they did she believed
    and she was mostly grateful for
    having misplaced her wristwatch
    kept following in faith
    although most of it seemed wasteful
    she had often hoped so that
    other guy would bash some sense
    into his own brains
    instead of his steed’s
    indeed music rose
    with their spirits in the end
    like Joseph handing son a rose …
    some stuff may have got lost
    but it was worth it
    the struggles were so far
    always cathartic
    leading to healing sleeps
    whose brief revelations awakened.

    p.s. I made some enquiries about buying a self portrait of you… not sure if messages received… but like I said since I made the original enquiry, I have received a traffic fine tut tut and the work roster continues wonky imo so whatever, I guess!

  5. avatar
    Anonymous | 3 February 2014 at 5:16 pm #

    long time since I’ve been here. really like this writing.

    Was just thinking of you when reading this article about Philip Seymour Hoffman

    It says: Heroin users do not simply “grow out” of their drug addiction. But you did, didn’t you? You should write a piece for SMH.

  6. avatar
    Anonymous | 3 February 2014 at 9:38 pm #

    ‘I would rather the firestorms of atmospheres
    Than this cruel descent from a thousand years
    of dreams’

    Bob Calvert said that.
    Ere, Marty was actually at the Liverpool gig where part of Space Ritual was recorded but said he didn’t rate Calvert – did you ever argue that out with him?

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