I breath heavily and sit confidently.
Most of me is born of pain and the rest is taking the piss.
Shut up man.
if this aint poetry then you know where to go
because you won’t say it to my face
I can strip a shotgun
faster
faster
faster than you can strip a hooker
there is no end
dog ends witness the spiral silently
as I [...]
Shotgun tales
cat tree
Bree saw a cat up a tree today, that in itself is not unusual. However this cat had the jazz in his eyes. Man he was wild.
Bree is not actually sure that the feline was male. And he certainly did not disturb the be-bop kitty to find out.
Most cats do not like Jazz, which to [...]
the baton
You push buttons and they allow it.
It’s a feature of the vista age that we all recycle endlessly
We all sing tunes hard at the wall
But it doesn’t come down
there were 30 Million voices
and now there is only mine
but I cant hear what I’m saying
So I push buttons
some punk linked me in facebook. i don’t really know the guy. Fucking hangers on…
Gas
Bree hasn’t always like the taste of gasoline.
But he likes it now.
He recomends you pick up the first Pick Up you get your hands on.
Fill it with the stuff.
I mean to the point tho where it spills all over the asphalt.
After all, it’s just fossils and they’re long dead.
What’s this about ice caps and droughts in [...]
Ram
A complex alcholic fudge.
Hairy drinks lost hopelessly in the hedge
A blurry knife edge stagger from day to night.
Bank holidays belong to God through the red vision of Jack.
Can we see to guide each other home.
An existential walk alone
Does anybody remember Eddy King? Bree does. Met him last time I went to England. he was at Exeter racecourse reading his words over a loud speaker. Words, strung together. Not poetry.
“I hang words round the necks of victims”
Eddy King is a hero, he always speaks the truth. Bree spent the night drinking red wine [...]
BAd WorKiNG
if I have to drag the corpse of past hope up the stairs
Then so do you.
the lift don’t work.
No the lift never works.
The fat man smiles at passing passes.
Swipe and load yourself into government files.
flies hold court inside whilst the birds
mostly gulls
dreaming of eating pigeon innards
squashed by cheap mass transport.
I was born in the desert
sang [...]
Bree Wedges, the man – the myth
Bree Wedges, the man – the myth
