Let fly the unquiet tongue

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The Unquiets


Let fly the unquiet tongue
on the tip of their wagging
wisecracks champing at the
raw bit of metal fisted in mouth.
Between the teeth a harrying of
buds over worried words slew.

Slewed with lewd and metaphysical.
Startled points of view rarely reach
beyond huff of fetid breath. Over wondering.
As if wonder is engendered. Political. Just saying
a weave of stem-sprouting visions are visions to
share. Break heavy-bread goodly-glad and so-so.



Brank: the very sound hurts flesh.
Brank. Clamp. Cramp. Crude bat-rammer.
Iron pressing head so steep it mashes
mouth-meat with biblical imprints. Spikes tongue.

Spiked: The journalists curse. Impaled articles
withering on the branch. So many ways to gag
your you.  Obliterate your view. Rendering meaty
words to weak invalid broth. Read all about it. Not.

Impalas: impaled on the rampage hover mid
jump. A mid-mind halter-neck turns another
page of perception gone mad. Whadda scorcher.
Torture. Phew! Pun-ish. Back to brank. Ma’am.


S’lake thirst

On my bottom lip a venous lake
has formed where words trip a
swim or drown. A-ducking. Trial
by pond. Disconcert of can’t breath.

The just so bon mot as deep as
marrow purples my bottom lip another
venous lake has formed in the after-dark
of forethought a moat duckweed-green
dives into silence. Dissects the Unquiets.

What roars will roar sounder? Sunder-a.
Hundreds and thousands scattered across
a niggling worry of sherry trifle. It whelms.
Numbs with lip-nibble. Dribble raves. Roving.




For many of us our first encounter with the art movement Surrealism is at some point in our teens and usually through art. This was certainly the case for me when I first came across the works of Ernst and Dali opening up a brave new world inhabited by people who were on a mission to disrupt perspectives and perceptions and burrow deep down into the human psyche.

Its massive attraction to the young is that it speaks so cogently to them as they negotiate their own brave new world of adulthood with its many woes and wonders. Surrealism makes total sense to people in a state of flux as they realise the fundamental ludicrousness of existence. Anything that allows the human mind not only to explore the absurd and the mysterious but to actually invent it is to be embraced and celebrated.

And so the absorbing of as much film, writing, drama and music emanating from the genre became a rite of passage as did playing the game of the Exquisite Corpse, experimenting with automatic writing and generating the ‘chance meeting’ of anything on the fabled table with everything. It lay the foundations of me being fearless when I approached my own writing.

Since the official Surrealist group headed by Andre Breton, surrealism has   expanded to a much more inclusive concept which can include all manner of weird and wonderful artists from the medieval heaven and hellscapes of Hieronymus Bosh, those bizarre creatures crawling around the edges of medieval manuscripts and at long last the recognition of those marvellous but unclubbable women who were overlooked for so long. The rescuing of the likes of Dorothea Tanning, Kay Sage, Leonora Carrington, Leonor Fini, Remedios Varo kindled in me a renewed interest and excitement with surrealism which just keeps on giving.

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