Men at Work

Men at Work
We walk through these
Musical moods, holding the notes
Of everyman’s hopes

Slivers of sunshine
Divide our shadows
Into queuing quavers

Her leavened voice to our side
Slithers and slides
Through the heavy air

Naked is our core
A collection of sparks
Lit by glowing music motes

Inevitably, our heart strings
Are rooted in this land of
Enlightened enthusiasm

Mouse Trap

I know three ways to kill a mouse. Squeamish already? Then stop reading right now, the going will get even worse. Reading on? Then don’t bitch later that I didn’t warn you! So let me start again. I know three ways to kill a mouse.

1. Hold the mouse down by pressing the first three fingers of your left hand on its neck and with your right hand pull on its tail until you hear the crunchy sound of a bone snapping. This is called cervical dislocation.

2. Take dry ice in a tall jar. Put a cloth on top of the dry ice. Then drop the mice, one after the other, into the beaker and cover it with a lid. If you are of the perverse kind you can take immense pleasure in watching them twist and jump, suffocating inside the death jar. I’ve seen some mice jump 10 times their height. Teach them pole vault and Sergei Bubka will develop an inferiority complex. Dry ice is frozen carbon-dioxide, all of minus twenty degrees cold. The mice die for lack of oxygen. The CO2 fills up their brain and starves it of oxygen. The cloth is to collect the involuntary discharge of pee and poo.

3. Inject Avertin, twice the body weight of the mouse. It goes into a coma. Now comes the moment of truth. Open it up and have a bloody ball. Cut out its liver, dissect the muscle and take out fat. You can have the brain for free, only, you will have to cut the head off and open the skull up. Avertin is a muscle relaxant sending the mouse on a ride to rodent heaven or hell. I don’t know.

Something In The Way

Nirvana MTV Unplugged

There is a lasting value to classic rock records that, even after years of repeated listening, manage to provide a new insight into the artist’s inner thoughts and feelings. A case in point is Nirvana’s live MTV Unplugged album. It is one of the rawest and most nakedly emotional records in rock’s history. An aural testament to all that Nirvana’s front man, Kurt Cobain was going through. The pain exuded through every song is heartfelt and visceral. It was as if the band knew that this would be their last record together. It was Cobain’s open suicide note to the world, in song. It is a record that even now, after all these years, does not lessen its emotional impact, making it one of the few rock records that is difficult to listen to in one sitting. This is not some pleasant background muzak. This is one man’s pain and anguish channeled through songs that retain a grain of infinite beauty at their core. And dare I say it; even celebrate the finer points of life with their lean but not mean melodic tones. It is this essential contradiction that makes this album still as relevant today as it was when it was first released, just after Cobain’s suicide.

Random Fragments III

The promise of
what will be
is now the despair of
what could have been


We breathe, we learn
We cry, we wipe clean
plans that could have become
paintings of pure love


Into the grey river
I jumped
To try and cleanse my soul
Of all the emptiness
Hibernating in its cold wilderness


God smiled
behind his dirty beard
a concave curve of triumph
Fate is his bitch indeed


Cut my heart
and you will see
words writhing
starved of love and hope
like the many heads of Hydra


Condescension drips off the chips
on their shoulders
like urine from a penis with prostatitis


The world spat on my soul
crushing my spirit
under a mound of mediocrity


And if I die now
what will I leave behind?
A few meaningless words
and some random memories
in the minds of people
who do not matter?