The Racing Line

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I was smoking a spliff at the top of the ramp in Eastbourne GoFast DH thing in 2009. I had just nearly killed myself by falling off the ramp backwards onto the heads of twenty sexy men from all over Europe and the World really. I was not happy. I could sense shit in the air and not the good kind either. Sniffing around the start line were ‘Normal fucking dudes’. These people were identified purely as I didn’t know them and I didn’t want to know them. They looked fucking Ironed, they had combed their hair but they rocked that Mormon skateboarder look. They smelt blood and money.

‘We have to put a stop to drug abuse around the start and finish’ said the Kinnish to Tom Worsley. I pulled on my spliff and looked over the cliffs and the sea groove, I blew my smoke over to the Kinnish who was barking out shit into his walkie talkie.

‘Hey Norm, you can suck my dick man, fuck you and your shit’ I said. I went off down the hill. Fuck dudes that look like MPs and fuck Custom leathers and Teams

Bottom of the hill. “Hey Marcus you horrible cunt” his head stayed in his lap top. I wanted to slam his head shut in it. Some German Woman skater was leaning over looking at her times, I could see her lovely tits and felt better. She knew I was looking.

Sterile race conditions. Flags and organised madness, what was this shit? What was this number crap? It was cool but not cool, I was only here to see my friends, get smashed and maybe try new drugs. It was intense, my heart wasn’t in it. I went back to the Hotel in the afternoon and went to sleep after I beat off in my sock. The next day Blue Peter presenter Helen Skelton interviewed Pete Connelly and in the background I walked past huffing a giant spliff. I wanted to fuck her she was sexy, but I smelled bad and I knew I wouldn’t resist grabbing her tits once the conversation got shit. I waited till they broadcasted it then whacked off. Rayne Demonseed, Custom 230mm Randal hangers, Cult wheels something Duro. I had put my spunky sock back on by mistake. My foot felt funny.

I was sitting chopping an old VW Bus bump stop, it was hard rubber, good hard shit that went into the Randal DH truck a treat as a bushing. No fucking big boxes full of dialled bushes of all colours and duros no Sir. We had to carve them with our teeth as Metal hadn’t been invented, The trucks were made of Wood from Noahs fucking Arc. We hadn’t eaten for days. We were in Dalby Forest in Yorkshire somewhere, a big Forest road that went winding through Tree shit, and Green shit. There were people here I love….we had skated together and had strange times.

Intense descents indeed, there was a speed bump on the finish line. It was cold. There were twenty people there. The whole of UK downhill nearly, it was the far past. Abec 11 wheels, made by that bald headed bastard Chris Chaput were just coming onto the scene. I had seen the prototypes at Aviemore but he wasn’t letting us touch or grope them. Name removed ate Amphetamine Base in a brown paper bag and hassled people in the car park. His eyes were black. He kept singing the same Suicidal Tendencies song “Possessed to Skate” but not skating just holding his board tight.

The Night before the race me and (Name removed) rocked up to Scarborough for bad things. Nightclubs and illicit substances. We grooved to a big club after we had eaten. Six floors of heaving psychotic violence. I spoke to the bouncer, he said they had four glassings and serious assaults that night. I laughed like a blocked drain ‘hahahahahahagrrrrk’. I had met a dude who had some serious MDMA straight from the labs of Israel. Good solid Shulgin Headshaking shit. I had taken one, I looked forward to the evening. Name removed fucked off dancing with some massive fat chick on the fourth floor. I moved through the crowd and grroooved to the young flesh in tight clothes buzzing my little head off.

Angry men. Groups of them. No women. I had walked to the top floor and a load of Scarboroughs finest head cases and Hooligans. This was their spot man. This was their turf and some grinning cunt skateboarder in an Indy Tshirt had just crashed their funky town. No worries man they looked at me like they were about to wade in for a Mosh where I would be the Moshed. It was cool, I was full of love and no threat. I skated down hills fast and sometimes smashed myself to pieces, what the fuck were these Glands going to do?

I put my foot, I tried to put my foot on the deck at the top of the run. The Heather either side was glowing like radioactive alien plant life. I wanted to lie in it and go to sleep. Name removed had just gone down and I was waiting for the GO! But I couldnt put my foot….the effects of the Acid were total brain farting me. This was a dose. I got my foot on and tried to get my freak right. The helmet was too tight and I wanted to rip it off. My leathers were stuck to me not because it was hot but I had a case of the sweats. I hadn’t slept. I had attacked Name removed as he had a piss in the early hours, I thought he was an Alien. He was lit by the moon from the sky.

Go.

I gently trundled off down the Yellow Brick Road. I had made my deck, pressed it myself. Lack of cash and lack of good equipment in those days, I picked up speed a little and went down into a tuck. This did something to my insides and I vomited in my helmet.

The Hooligan dudes pressed around and said some threatening shit. It was still good. I had a pair of Buddy Holly specs and a quiff. Stuck out amongst the shiny fat heads. One of them poked me with his finger and said “Murrrjjliieeo” which I found funny, so I laughed. The music was loud as fuck and I kept thinking about skateboarding. I was sorry D-Bone wasn’t coming and I felt like crying

In fact keep thinking about it. The puke was only a little bit so I spat some out and some got stuck in the lid. The act of tucking affected me as I picked up speed, it was steep, I passed a Marshall eating crisps, they waved. I moved my back foot back a little, I could feel the back skittish, I looked down, I was riding my board back to front. Shit. It pulsed Blue and Red and Green. Little tendrils. I shook my head to clear it but it made it worse. I was into the Forest now and the Sunlight was flashing through the trees like a fucking strobe throwing shapes at me, leaf shapes, Stars of Light across the tarmac in front of me. I couldn’t feel the board any more. Inside my Helmet I could hear the voices of the Bugatti boys down at the finish. If I could reach Tom Worsley or Pete Connolly I would be ok. I could hear them in my Lid talking…Jon thinking the Norwegian dudes were talking about him. Chris Chaput is a bald headed cunt.

The Club was playing this intense Drum and Bass shit like Napalm death SPEED. This Big White hand came from the gaggle of Stone Island clad goons and I laughed, here it comes I thought. The kicking and the pain. It was cool, I’m a Downhill skateboarder. Trust. This big massive fucker strides through the crowd. He is Hercules to these violent men. They part for him as a Holy Sea! He’s going to fucking kill me, he’s easily 17 stone and Six foot five, big scarred violent mush. His hand grabs me and pulls me towards him. It is scarred from battle, he smells of Joop and Lager.

Shallow left, I see crowds of people lining the route and cheering. I see people I know, family, friends, pets, for a moment I wonder what they are doing there. The grass is a brilliant Emerald Green and waving from side to side like Cobras. The sky had split into this pure Azure beautiful Silver and Brass colour and high up an Eagle called to its mate….Shallow right picking up speed, over a slight crack in the tarmac, the back of the board nearly takes me off and I automatically get lower and grab a rail as I reach the shitty tight bailed right hander. The track is a snake, my head is about to explode in colour, I taste acid sick and bits of Rice Krispy cake I had for breakfast. The sound of the board echoes back off the trees and into the Sky. It’s like a fucking Grateful Dead record.

He pulls me right to him and my face is buried in his chest. I’m a big bastard and this dude was like Adult size to my Toddler groove. He hugs me with one arm and in his thick Yorkshire accent says….”you look like Elvis Costello, I fucking love Elvis Costello” then he cheered and everybody else joined in. “We love you Elvis we do! We love you Elvis we do! We love you Elvis we do ooooooh Elvis we love you!” A strobe went on and I felt like I was being devoured by the undead.

The fucking tighty righty, the bastard son of bastard sons. Now a gong was reverberating through my head as the freak out reached a sort of a climax. There seemed like a thousand people on that corner. I saw them screaming obscenities at me and on the track were hundreds of bricks they had thrown to fling me off into the crap bails one deep. Randal DH 150’s, Avalons, home grown deck, crap leathers bought from a gay leather fetishist off ebay. I’m off my tits on Israeli MDMA and half a tab of LSD for breakfast. My right glove has fallen off. I can’t see out of one eye….

That ‘Valis’ Thing

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She was in the shower and she was soaping and displaying her breasts to me while i tried to piss. I laughed and turned to face myself in the small mirror above the toilet. I looked like a dead man. While she writhed in the steam i walked into the bedroom and she was naked in bed. The sheet clung to her, moved as she touched herself.

“You were talking to yourself while you were in the Bathroom” she said

“Yes” i said

I asked him about the UFOs he said its hard to say
they only come here to laugh and play
they seem to like it here away from the stars
to bleed into the crooked hands of men
their brilliance and finest acts
playing in the trees and hot days
we run along the street raising the dust
and swearing at passing people
‘fuck off’ and we didn’t care
we couldn’t have given a shit
they hid in the sky above and laughed
their Vixen minds too fogged to care
who are they to judge us?

we are i sense locked together in rhythmic embrace
as we fuck and then watch Jeremy Kyle
there is spunk on your shoulder
your hair is matted with it
you dont care and smoke a cigarette
laughing at the people on the TV
you are naked you sip tea out of a mug with a Cat on it

all i did was gently touch your shoulder
and you transformed you became again
the fire from your heart lit the walls and ceilings
the spider in the corner shivered
your eyes as darkest slate
what are you? you stand upon the step of heaven
the distant light, soft lights you
halo bright the distant light

this land this earth is dying
our answer has been given
we walk back into fond embrace
they finest love and tender grace
a fear is lost dreams
for the darker days have gone away

666DigitalSluts

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In a sense it is the calloused knees we inherit
from grovelling at the feet of the Gods they made
that make us fired and angry to believe
shake fists at the Prophets and the Actors
throw rocks upon their Godly heads
make new ones, fuck fake old ones

The flashing of the lights disturbs me and yet
outside the window it looks ok….to me

Sweet Halos they have their golden skin
and their robes so rich as they spread their hands in love
such wisdom they hold and suffer for us

I push my tongue into her asshole and she whispers things
of the blood and the bile he brings
i twist her labia between my fingers gently
we still fear the Knights when the itch bites

Your ass is wet with your love
at dinner, the way you took off your glove
and turned to the waiter to ask something
and your head turned, your throat
effortless you twisted your hand delicate
like something Audrey Hepburn would do
in some posh Hotel, in a cool film
and i think of her vomiting on my hard cock

through the window again
i define my own space and believe none of it
grasp bright lights that turn to smoke
afterwards we smoke a spliff and laugh
i packed it full of weed and we were dizzy
but lay in bed smelling like each other
outside a Police car went past

ThreeStars

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I’m going to put you in your place you see
sympathize to sweet Cornish girls in pretty dresses
and their hair blows and they laugh and i die a little
hold onto the stainless steel bar cramped over with agonies
laugh again make me smile dont be afraid
in the next universe we live, we dont meet by accident
be still and let the Black Winged Angels fly overhead
stopping the light sucking out the thoughts of half asleep
settle down into a tangible relief settle down
its easy to be amongst them, easy does it
the people around us walk, they holiday, they think of nothing
close your eyes and imagine something nice
full of the joy of living and forbidden spice
let me just rest my head on your shoulder a minute
smell you and feel your hair tickling my face
the breeze is beautiful isnt it, smell the sea
he walks on the beach in his beautiful robe
kicking the childrens sand castles over
rubbing oil on Mommys tits as she writhes
i roll a cigarette and giggle and you puzzle at me
the blind for life and the laughs for free
i pull you closer and i can see you have unbuttoned your dress
a little
one button more
and i can see the swell of your breast
it is brown, you have caught the sun
in the sky three bright stars shine in the blue
i see them, what about you?
ah it doesnt matter, the guys as mad as a hatter
its hard to light my cigarette over the sound of the machines
that clatter and bleep all night
as i crawl under the bed scared to look
such a heavy burden
you touch my face softly
we hold hands and you count three stars

Dramadol

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Fold, and feel those wheels turning
fine for days out but you are learning
your lips are fire blood red
they are thick with your madness
my thumb touches them
your chin in my palm
what things in those eyes
what sour passions arose
we cast spells to forget
i fuck your mouth with my fingers
your mouth full of spit
that runs down your chin
why do you look at me so
when the fires are lit
my fingers tear at your top
my hand is wet from your mouth
you grind your hips you kneel
the better to find
the better to feel
your bra has pretty flowers on it
i hold your hair back
as you snort a taste of Peru
the best blue flake Coke
two lines too fine blue line
and you gasp as i pull your head back
you have Coke on your lip
i lick it off
the whites of your eyes are showing
outside the house kids shout
as they kick the bus stop in
i bite your nipple hard
the crotch of your jeans are wet
you rub on me like a cat
you speak in tongues
i hold your hair tight and you feel
the lightest nights are here
as the brightest things suffer the worse
your jeans are tight as i pull them down
to your knees and spread your legs
fired up again, took like a furnace
take the stage, do a turn and yearn
the idle among us lament and weep
it matters not for fears and dark corners
but greater, shinier things
the light from the window is blue and bright
you are winged and radiant
naked and beautiful, this place is gone
you spread your wings
bless those blackened things
your hand at your cunt moves as you levitate
you are my judge and i want for nil
for better or worse for good or ill
but the sunlight grows and i hear birdsong
and my bag is there on the floor
i see my books within
you smile and wave away the art
and in your hand my bleeding heart

No Title

The Matriarch sits with her left breast exposed
she cradles the head of a small child
a pantomime mask hovers at her left shoulder
cattle move from the right of the frame to the left where
they are butchered and thrown to the floor
what feeds the element to suffer and lament
zero point fucking hard ons

Come on baby, you know you want it
you need the thing the dirty words
i know you are fucking wet
and you like the way your knickers are tight
against your cunt

He instills the fears of the Shaman
and the liars share is his
a bitten thigh to bleed
and the bitter end is bliss

i want to fuck your face
and feel you choke

and the Iron rings
soon turn to smoke

i shove my hand out of the window
and my shoulder touches the bars
but i can feel the rain on my hands
but my arm is bleeding
from the broken glass

dont move as i touch you
i know about the sleepless nights
and hard feared delights
the sense i suppose

The Eris Evocation

Sublime Perfect Masters

Film Script (Narration only)

 

Four distinct Sections with an approximate running time of 20 mi

 

Section One

 

Title (Black Hearts For Stainless Love)

 

‘To see to breathe a section of the Circumference. To eat the Salted circle and to last a sense of shadows’

 

‘To Exit the breath and suffer the twists and turns of the Cosmos we bleed in this place and suffer’

 

‘Between the Axis left to breathe the foul airs of the interface, the joining place, the foul heart and the crooked spine’

 

‘What Beasts have you sent to make us suffer and we do. Do we not weep and pull at our hair, to scream, to shed awful tears’

 

‘These Demons are set above us not below. These Demons offer chains to bind able hearts. These chains bind us. They burn us. They murder us’

 

‘In our light we bind the red blood heart to suffer the gentle prick of pain that brings the sleep of all’

 

‘Shall we not sense the suffering of the gentle faces that press from our sides’

 

‘As we walk Summer valleys to a remembrance of that Garden we walked with you and laughed at flowers’

 

‘Your hand strong in mine and rough from tending the things that grow in this place you rip the pain away from me’

 

‘ In green forests we walked and ran naked in the grass and warm we splashed in crystal streams and dried ourselves asleep in the Sun’

 

‘In your Chaos we curl and wind around each other and become lost, the predictable is as abstract a thing….we love you’

 

‘Hard hearted and cheated they clasp their things to their chest as these things give them joy. We slip past them as Ghosts, we slip past as Angels’

 

‘Eris, we pray and hope our hearts stay strong for you and our sins against the heart and sour ends are forgiven and collected’

 

‘We kneel and offer songs to you as you bless our hearts with the loves you give’

 

‘To break our hearts is your want, and we would open our own veins at your dominion’

 

 

Section 2

 

Title ( An End To Fears)

 

“Announced, a breath and a waiting time, we pick our way amongst the detritus of this World they made”

 

“A sense of worth is lost and we pray to unbidden Gods, we pray and weep our bitter tears for the things they have made with hands cold and damp”

 

“Our Cities will fade and die, our roads become tracks and our landscapes returned to the old ways, we give our hearts to you this day”

 

“Old Gods for Old ways, our paths to cross and tangle. Our hearts left still by deserted roadsides, the crossroads, the Black Messenger”

 

“We fear our deaths and respite our flesh to see the end, it comes with no foreboding, to ease away, to glitter once again”

 

“This madness they have infected with laughter as they destroy. This eighth heaven home, the placebo unknown, the grinding end to it all”

 

“Do you not suffer the same, the slashes and cuts for fears unknown, the scratch of the scalpel, the twisted knife?”

 

“Blessed hearts run free, leaden feet to shuffle the dance they make, the trodden Corn and viable seed, to stamp, to castigate”

 

“Brethren lost, a Father gone, a Mother waiting in fields of Gold and Green. The sense of worth as a dropped flag at the head of your Army”

 

“We have the need for greatest greeds that fasten to us as bolts and staples, the run of steel and the burned roads”

 

“As the bitter servants crawl into shattered holes to bleed and gnaw their own sufferance, we settle our hearts with you”

 

“Eris, a thought, as we hold tight to you, do not leave us here with them, as we rise above the noise and clamour, the painted hovel and the false glamour”

 

“We present this Prayer a simple call to arms to bind the debts we owe to fast Horses for long distances, the points between the places”

 

“A thing to present in our ignorance and for the last gasps of men we cry and throw ourselves into fires, to writhe and to burn”

 

Section 3

 

Title (Last Lament Of The Cold War Kids)

 

“As awake we break the walls of sleep, the masons arms, the succoured beast and for a while we may sit and think on sins and wounds”

 

“Your gifted breath to sense an uttered moan of pleasure, in every orgasm a song for you”

 

“To wander roads with you, to bury you deep within our love. We roll in your wisdoms”

 

“Intensities in Cities, the shriek of pain in the night, the deserted streets they make us walk, we tire and will say this”

 

“We lay down our Governance, the experiment has failed, the Stewardship betrayed, our policies of idiocy, the Governance of Slaves”

 

“Pull the Hoods over our heads as we spy the Dawn Sun and the Meadows stretched out, we touch the dew soaked grass”

 

“We lift our arms to the sky and say, with all heart, blessed this thing we have destroyed, no more eyes to see or tales to tell”

 

“Our end, the simple click of a TV remote, a passing thought or remark, a Passion play for dribbled love”

 

Section 4

 

Title (The New Covenant)

 

‘twisted thing, of dark bark stained less with blood, than subtle ochre fear’

‘of pressed flowers and grass, a feeble tear for lost days, a subtle vow whispered into the air’

‘of spirals that dance into the sky, the fungal stink of rot, here listens the first step’

 

‘and one will see the light and true, for this sickened thing here, pick the fabric of your heart’

‘and listen for the smallest part, for those that weep and shelter here, belong to God and never fear’

 

‘the life we lead well was well wrought, a traitors soul was sold and bought, and still the idle fingers walk’

‘amongst the tears the chills the thought, and as my hands flutter light, your breasts are hard blood filled….pick at the weave’

‘and let the Daemons blow a song, for them piped gentle and slow, lulled to sleep a stricken fear
i cut their throats from ear to ear’

‘what terrors still sleep beneath i know, a dimensionless void a foul bent throw, i make sense of the boundaries, the hidden depths and the red box’

‘a happening and a display, a sense of virtue discussed, what addles you best? as you sit within your nest?’

‘your playful nights aware, with head on pillow, a quiet despair, has he not addressed concerns?
of stricken hearts, you bite your knuckle soft, to stifle hidden sobs’

‘and the rain lashed windows, wash your tears, a hidden hand and lost deed, i sit here lost and bleed
as i needed you here safe, my fingers curled within your hair, your lips so able and complete’

‘a paleness sublime and sweet, however we hurt and last, our pain to suffer and weep, an Angel lost and so we sleep’

 

 

END

 

 

In Your Hair, Stars

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I see, in hearts and we pretend
to touch, to see and be here again
touch to see and fear, a little
and ease the way past bitter things
another static analysis
how easy we forget and let it pass
the ease in which we smile
and our hearts crack
after all its just a simple play
we act the things we want to say
and pick at loose threads on the bedspread
listen to the Clock roll glitter
concentrate envelope the space
we have given away
push the point of the pencil
deep into your wrist and bite a suffered lip
feel the lead sink into able flesh
the shards of our pains deft hand
i touch the curve of your jaw
and turn your face towards the Lucozade glow
of the lamps above us
don’t be soft, or argue a point
or tumble in your heels as you display
the wind blows the curtain, and your cares away
you didn’t care who saw you, only why
as the high heels skittered
and our passion filled the sky
the boys below smoked a spliff and laughed happily
as your pressed your breasts against the window
one of them blew you a kiss
i suspect he loved you then and will always
i passed you the spliff and you did your Liz Taylor thing
what sins to suffer, what pain to bring
you sat on the window sill and smoked
while i thought of Jesus and Three Holy Ghosts
you open your legs as you exhale the sweet scent
that look you gave, whatever it meant
made me look up and past you to the Stars outside
and the Sodium light behind you made a Halo
that looked like a Crown, and in your hair
Stars

Finger Fucked In Tesco

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She speaks at last
not affected by the seeds of what makes her think
by the pretty things that makes her smile
and then frown or become sad
for we, i suspect suffer the real things
as the dealer throws a card from his dry hand
but my hand in your jeans makes you freak
prostrate yourself for the dangers beneath
my hand wet, moves softly
the shoppers ignorant move around us
what fears to tell the children later
for they curl and twist among the dust
fettered to breathe a subtle breath
hold erect two fingers to fucking morals
gladly you orgasm, hard like a shotgun blast
rest your head against the cold store fridge
let the beads of moisture turn into stars
as the feelings rip through
the cold dead flesh is frozen
too deep for even you