FUCK THE LGBTQ AGENDA SAYS BENDER

'Ho ho ho- far from having a LGBTQ AGENDA I would happily nuke the lot of the mealy mouthed self-interested bastards for all the good they actually do as a supposedly pro-active minority group: they are constant squabbling among themselves, are late starters and very rarely finish.

Compared to the smaller disabled lobby they are rank amateurs letting themselves be run by the elite gays and their 

sycophants who ply their lifestyle in London.

PLUS for everyone's info I am quite set against gay marriage being in any way imitative of heterosexual secular or religious marriage, those institutions are crocks and quite clearly not fit for purpose so who the fuck but an idiot would want them. There is nothing whatsoever wrong with being born a bastard- it is a very royal habit.

I profoundly loathe being labelled 'someone with a gay lifestyle'...I try not to be negatively detrimental about it BUT I just don't live my life like that. I would have dearly loved to have bettered the effectiveness of the LGBTQ profile in the UK but it is a very closed shop and many times they have quite disgracefully slammed the door in my face. There is so much show and flim and flam in that cauldron of egos it is thoroughly unbearable and I have not found an 'alternative' gay press that does not have to buy into it for commercial reasons. Pink Pound market forces are IMMENSELY strong and those who understandably exploit them for a secure profit play to the most shallow and common factors in our beleagured community. Then you have to factor in the tele-visual paradigms of what constitutes a family friendly gay icon- two types for before and after the watershed. I have quite given up save for the fact that it is ripe for satire in my new collaboration with the marvelous and splendidly misunderstood firmly heterosexual Mike Knowles- a great talent for human observation.'CM

THE TIPPING POINT OR DICK-HEAD

THE TIPPING POINT


ON A 'DARK' DAY I RASHLY POSTED THIS ON MY FB PROFILE WALL:-

'My 'giving' account is vastly in debt and it is very clear that I and the world and his robber dog have been taking conscious advantage of my generosity for far too long. How stultifying, suffocating, disappointing and downright boring is that! I foresee no change to better MY situation. YOU go on concentrating fully on YOUR lot- you are clearly so blinkered it may well be all you've got. NOT MY PROBLEM!' CM

LEE HARDING: [a friend [ I thought ] and my co-collaborator on THE QUEER MESSIAH BANNED music project which had been going for two years but had lately gone utterly moribund through no fault of my own.] swiftly replied:-

'Blimey, you ARE throwing your toys outta the pram aren't you! Have a rethink, dear mate - life CAN be a pile o' crap, but there ARE people who're having it worse than you or I - FACT.'

[At this juncture LH had no idea, no details of what very demanding real circumstances I was dealing with. And at no time was he going to enquire as to what the problem was- this from a 'friend' and a work colleague in a long-standing creative venture. Duh!]

CHRIS MADOCH:  'Like I need to be told that- it is something phenomenally unhelpful that I always make a point of refraining from telling anyone who is in pain or anguish. Shall I break my rule and try it on you next time you are in a dark place- you will not thank me for it. People experience various degrees of sufferance. They are clearly not me. Reminding patients of that banal fact is not part of the NHS Mental Health Handbook. You will be telling me to pull my socks up next. No wonder I despair.'

LEE HARDING:  'I'll leave you to wallow then Chris - there's obviously no bucking you up today, is there! I really don't need the condescention implicit in your little comment either, thanks. Get better soon. x'

CHRIS MADOCH: 'Mmm I think I deal with you 'wallowing' somewhat more constructively but I could be wrong, I very often am, particularly in relationships where it is me who does the bulk of all the positive driving. I have been here so many times before the signs have become a bit of a bore. Maybe I have an utterly archaic view of what a friendship is. The fact is that you have been insufferably insensitive. And, for your information, it is not a question of of getting better, BUT why would you know. You really have no idea and in the circumstances is far better for you not to comment at all. Yes I will be condescending when the occasion demands it and YOU thoughtlessly created that occasion.'

LEE HARDING: 'I really hope you're NOT saying you're "doing all the driving" with me - you KNOW the situation at this end. >:('

CHRIS MADOCH: 'In this instance you could have shown some sensitive circumspection- that is the least I would expect from a true friend, particularly since you are not in possession of the facts and seem not to want to be before you spout your mouth off. You complain about other people's bad behaviour soon enough. And yes, frankly I have had enough, I have had enough of many things, the multiplicity of disappointments in my life that are beyond my saving are way more than unbearable- it is pure torture. Now be a proper friend or get the fuck off my case.'

['Lee Harding had only been back on Facebook for two days after a ten day voluntary absence from the social network which had so upset him- someone had been less than kind to him. One has to wonder who exactly has the problem. It really does beggar belief- this guy is often in a dark place and I can say with total certainty that I have always been there for him empathising. It would never ever have occurred to me to say to him in any one of our weekly calls [always made by me] that he is wallowing in his complex predicament, throwing his toys out of the pram and should consider that there are many more people worse off than him. If I ever had done he would have hit the roof. Well this garrulous degree of double standards will not wash with me. No-one bullies me in such a thoughtless and insensitive way.
Nail number thirteen in the coffin of the cursed Queer Messiah Banned.
Nails six to twelve the broken promises and undertakings, all of which I believed.
Nails one to five the disappointments.
To add to the difficulties none of the artwork for The Queer Messiah Banned had anything to do with me ever and never was subject to my approval- Lee Harding unilaterally made that his sole province. The direction it was going in was not exactly to my liking.
All that to one side, the cracks had appeared over time and it needed just one electrifying piece of abusive interaction to signal the end. That end came today 10 July 2012 and all I feel is immense relief. I shall never return to a creative collaboration with a rock/pop musician ever again.
I am perfectly happy with what I achieved with Dominic Shaw on the album Cerulean Blue. As a Poet and a writer of poetic literary fiction my door remains open to classical composers who share my passion and work ethic.' CM]

THE QUEER MESSIAH BANNED crumbles

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Queermessiah-Banned-global-brand/201206146675464?ref=ts

QUEER MESSIAH WORLD- gritty gay crit unfurled: HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES

QUEER MESSIAH WORLD- gritty gay crit unfurled: HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES: click on this link:- CALL FOR CUTTING EDGE WRITERS AND ILLUSTRATOR

QUEER MESSIAH WORLD- gritty gay crit unfurled: HOMOPHOBIA IS NO EXCUSE FOR HOMICIDE

QUEER MESSIAH WORLD- gritty gay crit unfurled: HOMOPHOBIA IS NO EXCUSE FOR HOMICIDE: Image by CM copyright 2012. All Rights Reserved. Commissioned for eye2eye designs international. 'YES GUYS- TIME TO GET WISE. TIME TO C...

GAY MARRIAGE: SAD MIMICRY OF A DELUDED MOCKERY

'I defy anyone to find me a persuasive belt of human populous anywhere in the world whose practices would lead an anthropologist to conclude there does exist a modicum of evidence to support the myth of the SANCTITY of heterosexual marriage.

Given that CHRISTIANITY is listed as the the most widespread of all the religions or delusions you would think one would be spoiled for choice. Fact is it is a MYTH- wishful thinking on behalf of all those getting betrothed in the NORMAL way in the western world today.

Your heterosexual marriage of SANCTITY will last on average only 7yrs at the current statistical rate- by then you will have had children. Those children will be brought up in the bitter ambience of a broken home. Now- I would not ever wish to presume to second guess a God. But don't you think that outcome somewhat odd.

In fact it is utter gender facism for heterosexuals to abbregate sanctity to their very particular bonding and their bonding alone. Clearly heterosexual oaths are not intended to be kept- how fashionable it is to find some pretext to make a risable lie sound plausibly honest. And obviously child care is not the core issue that clerics and politicians would have it be. The facts simply do not stack up.

The old model of family is profoundly under question as the only and the best way of multiplying the human race. The answer is singularly unpalatable to those it is staring squarely in the face. There is a brilliant, exciting and invigorating future BUT the the old ways will not play much of a part in it.

I just want to add at this point that I do have the greatest respect for people who recognise their mistakes, get divorced and move on whilst managing to prioritise the welfare of their children for as long as is necessary- that is no easy accomplishment. And I do have a reasonable respect for those heteros in marriages of longevity BUT [ there is alway a but ] a great number of such marriages have involved the woman being 'bondaged' to a large degree to an outmoded paradugm of how to be. Admittedly in most cases she will have chosen this to be the case- and here's another BUT, how will we ever know.

IF hundreds and thousands of women have freely elected to be 'imprisoned' in a marriage of longevity then I fail to see what the most vociferous feminist is ever going to do about it. I am personally a great proponent of increased rights for women and always have been. BUT [ another one ] I have always argued that had the hard-core lesbian led feminist movement had been less self-centric and blinkered they may have sought to free the male population from the burden of responsibility that men traditionally carry within conventional society. My contention is that had they done so they would have advanced the cause of women 100% further than they already have.

It would seem to me that not as many women as are cited by the feminist movement are quite ready to surrender the benefits that being betrothed and BEHOLDEN to a financially advantaged man offer them.

I myself enjoy a Civil Partnership in the UK with my partner of 27yrs [ twenty seven years]: we have joint full and enduring powers of attorney over each other; adding such legalities together pretty much knocks run of the mill heterosexual marriages into a cocked hat. I always advise my gay friends, when asked, to steer very clear away of mimicking an institution which has already become a laughing stock. There are newer and better ways of doing things.

The rub is diabolical God and religion or delusion as I prefer to call it. I perfectly well understand why a gay couple who are deludedly believers in some man-made crackpot faith or other would want to wed under the auspices of such a cult. But do play the game- these ancient clubs have rules to which they are religiously devoted.

It is a far simpler and swifter arrangement to create your own club of mad-cap delusion where YOU set the rules from the outset. There are a number of self-help books on this matter currently in print.' CM

HARALD SEIWERT

'UNDRESS'

ARTICLE JUST OUT IN PRIDE AND EQUALITY MAGAZINE [Print and Online]

ARTICLE JUST OUT IN PRIDE AND EQUALITY MAGAZINE [Print and Online]

Teresa Ewers

Editor-in-Chief

Pride & Equality magazine

THE NAKED TRUTH

Chris Madoch

Never shying away from what he really thinks, writer Chris Madoch presents his latest book of poetry titled Rumours from the Balcony. Madoch takes some time out to answer questions for P&E.

What is your inspiration for these poems?

The genesis of a gay man, life, sex and particularly relationships- dusting the cobwebs from the many ghosts in all my many cupboards. I was married to a woman for 13yrs. I have 3 daughters and nine grandchildren- two are already at university; the youngest is toddling. I tried not to get married but gay men hid in straight marriages then [1970's]. I told my beautiful wife that I was gay but it did not deter her- she wanted my children, those were her words. We were together for 13 years, riding the enormous waves of the strange sea of a relationship we had created. I was monogomous for the ten years of our agreed time together. She wasn't. It was stormy and passionate- we were both so creative. She was an actress, a very good actress. The last three years were mental, cruel and we finally seperated. A year after the seperation I met the half-hawaiian guy I have been with ever since- a 27yr partnership. We are obviously soul-mates. The poems in the book, or 'words used in creative expression' as I prefer to label them, were forged in the factory of mixed emotions of this history and the subsequent fall-out. After a long period of being homophobic my ex-wife finally found love with a transgender man-to-a-woman and had to admit to being a lesbian. The very well educated empath that I am is still exploring an understanding of the transgender phenomenon. I am in the last draft stage of a novel which addresses the subject- 'Living With Lesley Dying For Fame.'

Another scource of inspiration has been social networking; I have a large footprint on the internet where I am known as 'The Queer Messiah'- the constant message is unqualified freedom of speech and no censorship. I believe that driving anything underground makes it criminally viable and sexual activity should be freed from this stigma. There are no taboos in my writing- it is intentionally excoriatingly honest, dangerous and beautiful and if it shocks I am not the least surprised. It is art- people need to learn to live with it. If their sensibilities are affronted then good- they need to adjust and get over themselves. And of course I constantly draw inspiration from being a gay man and enjoying gay sex. My partner happily describes himself as half-caste so I am additionally involved with racial issues. I am a Welsh bear, with ginger hair and freckles, but I swear that I have been slowly morphing into a man of colour for two decades.

The fact is, I did not select the works for Rumours From The Balcony; they were collected by the CEO of Fibonacce Press in the USA [They used to be the feted Lumen Press] but at the last minute the Texan investors underwriting the book took issue with the content and dropped it. Within fourteen days it was picked up by my current English publisher. Fibonacce had access to all of my poetry. The content was deliberately chosen to make a sensational launch of the new press in New York. Life's unpredictable twists and turns continue to fascinate me- that is not altogether odd since I also have had an idiosychratic spiritual faith for most of my life, being an experienced healer and psychic and a scholar of the world's religions, none of which I have the misfortune to belong to. The freedom that I enjoy is true and not at all cozy- it can be quite scary. But at least I have the strength of mind to believe that I am free and not at all farmed by anything tainted by bigotry and prejudice.

The title "Rumours from the Balcony", what made you take on that title?

Some years previously I had written a playscript [a collection of monologues] called 'Rumours From The Balcony'- all the action set in California; three interiors and balconies in Beverly Hills, West Hollywood and San Diego. A gay man is a major domo to an ageing starlet who wants him to assist her in her suicide. I was intrigued by the climate and the way people could eat and chatter on their balconies- so very non British. On my mind too, was the power of the balcony in both religion and politics- the Papal public addresses and various state announcements. The play has not been performed or published and my then American publishers wanted the title for the book so I agreed. The idea that a vine may spread from balcony to balcony carrying viral sensations remains appropriate- it mirrors social networking. Indeed my major balcony is Facebook where I have a fanpage 'Chris Madoch Art'- it is much trafficked.

Two of your poems stood out to me, "Bare Bits of Self" and "Arse Farci". Can we hear the story behind those pieces of art?

Mmm this is such a toughie. Few artists respond happily to questions like these because the works are done and they've long moved on; primarily it is the reader's response to the pieces that matters. BUT I can help a little bit- 'Arse Farci' is blatantly sexual in its biographical admissions, whilst remaining somewhat musical and cleverly hinged. The title means stuffed arse [ass] and reminds me of the dish oefs farci [eggs stuffed with curry] which is itself quite erotic to look at and has the crossover smell of something taboo. Eggs reside inside a woman. The Victorians adored such things with some 'sexual' relish. Gay men are ALWAYS associated with arse fucking or stuffing but we know that it is not a pre-requisite of being gay that you have to indulge in such things. However, the predeliction for the ignorant soundbite hungry public to assume this is pretty typical. My response to them is- go stuff yourself. Indeed, do a little research into anal sex and you quickly discover that all genders are at it in various ways, sometimes as a means of contraception where, for example, the 'faith' forbids the use of the pill or condoms. Habitually Caribbean men who are notoriously homophobic will use anal sex with their women because they have an innate dislike of the vagina. You go figure. The piece 'Bare Bits of Self' is shockingly confessional. Nothing more to be said- well, it hits the 'included deluded' smack on the head. Gay people and black people will always be excluded in some way. I don't think I could ever remind people enough of that fact. I am not in the least appeased by acts of social change that are intended to quell the welling of a questioning underclass. My father was a coal-miner in South Wales UK. He had visible shards of coal lodged in the veins of his weathered hands.

This issue of Pride & Equality is the Sex issue. To stay with theme, your works are strong with sexual innuendos. How do you not go overboard and is Dan part of the thought process?

I have already alluded to the love of my life being a man of colour- I am immensely proud of him, his heritage and what he has achieved in this life. For good measure he is extraordinarily good looking and I have always found him phenomenally sexy. I've been very blessed by a sexual muse who ticks every box I could possibly want. Both of us believe that the suppresion of sexual expression particularly for some manufactured religion is the blight of 21st century mankind. No wholly divine religion unsullied by the agendas of manipulative patriarchs exists. So it would be quite unnatural for either of us to curtail our 'fun with sex' in respect of our artistic expression. At times it emerges in quite shocking ways- it immediately makes what we do quite niche. The mass market is just not ready for the truth about love. I am currently working with the composer Lee Harding on 'The Queer Messiah Banned Project' and the first album is already half completed- we constantly discuss what is or is not appropriate for a pop song. Despite The Scissor Sisters, cutting edge has still not slid into pop and popularity. We think it is lunacy for prudery to wield so much influence still- but it SO does. A lot of people who dislike my work, and I accept there will be many, will level at me the accusation that I go overboard all the time. But then I have never for one second pretended to be JK Rowling. Daniel Radcliffe is quite the hottie now, don't you think. Though sex with the ex Harry Potter would seem mighty wierd. That wand is imbued with untold powers.

What new works should we be looking forward to?

I am very close to finishing a collection of short, alarmingy sexy and shocking fiction for adults, illustrated with line-drawings by my man, called 'Sex With Strangers'. It is going to be published by Paraphilia Books and should be available to buy before the end of this year. I work with this young house a lot and always support their online presence- Paraphilia Magazine, perhaps the best of the cutting edge literary and arts magazines on the internet. Take a look, I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

Find Chris on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/chrismadoch. Copies of Rumours From The Balcony are best purchased from the publisher's website athttp://www.erbacce-press.com/.

NEW PRIVATE GROUP ON FACEBOOK

http://www.facebook.com/groups/gaybrains/

‘A DANGEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL BOOK’

'Chris Madoch, the talented, self-proclaimed 'Queer-Messiah' writes like no other poet we know... maybe the book should carry a Government Health Warning along the lines of; 'Warning! This book may seriously affect your current complacency!' ...if you don't buy it you'll have to be content with over-hearing people talking about it in bars, in cafes and on the streets of whatever City you happen to live in...' erbacce-press.

‘It is a beautiful book and one of the most terrible things (in the true sense of that word) I have been privileged to read. This book is a distillation of the truth; not ‘Truth’ with a capital fucking ‘T’. Not ‘Everyman’s Truth’ or the ‘Holy Truth’. This is Chris Madoch’s truth, one necessarily distorted by his queer and jaundiced perspective as a living suffering human being and all the more beautiful and all the more terrible for that.’ DAVE MITCHELL Publisher.

‘Clarity is rare, insight invaluable - Chris' writings cut through the crap, the ceremonial, the political, the affected and the disguised to reveal the guts and mechanics of life, sex and love. He tells it how it is in every bleak and human detail. Warm, terrifying, hot and hideous, gentle and caring by turns, he casts a mirror on us all. This writing is real. This writing is essential!’  MARC YEATS Classical Composer and Fine Artist

‘To read Chris Madoch is to understand music in a beautiful maelstrom. He deftly moves the reader from emotion to emotion through his tales of a life less ordinary with a confrontational grace and intrinsic power that belies the same perfection of narrative and language that you find with any master. Concrete and charismatic, Chris Madoch is a Poet who must be heard and must be read.’
LARRY KUECHLIN Poet and Broadcaster

‘Madoch's work is an uncompromising and unflinching mirror of the angles of modern society seldom talked about and pushed into the general malaise of amnesia and glossing over the rough edges. He will not shy of speaking loud bringing the skilful torch of his poetry to allow these things into the light. Intriguing, soul-searching work that will push the reader out of the comfort zone and force him/her to confront many important issues and come out at the other side as a more engaged person.’ PETRA WHITELEY, author of 'The Nomad's Trail' (Ettrick Forest Press) and 'Moulding of Seers (Shadow Archer Press) and a music journalist for Reflections of Darkness.

‘I've always appreciated Chris Madoch’s idealization of a radical, subversive individuality and the idea that one must demand of oneself a commitment to authenticity, vibrancy and vitality in the struggle for existence.’ NATHANIEL GALLEGOS

‘Chris Madoch, self-appointed Queer Messiah, announced his intention to lead a spiritual jihad against the corrupt and decadent literary establishment and a moribund and deceitful publishing industry. His followers were at first the few and strong in spirit, but such was their strength in unity that the world was not able to ignore their message.’ DAVE MITCHELL Co-owner of Paraphilia

AUTHOR’S NOTE

‘At the onset of puberty I would have been over the moon for this book to have landed in my precocious lap. My incisive questioning then was largely forbidden. When I was at university the inspirational plays of Joe Orton were the toast of London’s West End- not so today where the ubiquitous ‘family friendly’ musical holds sway. A rather more self-satisfied society, too timid to grumble, dominates our lives and with it a rash of pacifiers from the arts that play to the masses- do not include me among them. I have not succumbed to dumbing down nor would I happily suck the dummies provided by the media who have colluded in the process. With good cause, I am seldom at peace and I am never afraid to make complaint. I am not just a rebel, a maverick and a sinner, I am very contentedly an amalgamation of all these things. I am the sum of my multi-various parts and experiences plus some, the whole underpinned by an unwavering truth; because of this, and despite my instinctive loathing of creeds, faiths, clubs and religions, I live a remarkably spiritual life from where I summon forth creations- writings, utterances and images, work I think of as Barddonieth. As The Queer Messiah I am the founder of a movement I call ‘The Shock Of The True’.’ CM

RUMOURS FROM THE BALCONY by CHRIS MADOCH

Publisher: erbacce-press

ISBN: 978-1-907878-07-7

128 pps Fine Paperback £11.50 or $18 incl., shipping.

There is a dedicated sales page on the publisher’s website which is the preferred pathway of purchase because that best guards the book’s royalties and profit margins.

There is now a dedicated Facebook Group for this book where all the essentials details can be found and readers can share feedback and comment; it is called 'A DANGEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL BOOK' and anyone is most welcome to join. Here is the link:- 

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_108223642585781

A SENSUAL LEVIATHAN OF FUN from ‘RUMOURS FROM THE BALCONY’

Snow blind baby

You go ‘cross that invisible line-

I think maybe you will find a bogey man.

There is no going back.

Ooh! Too scary.

Jesus Mary Mother Of God!

This tarnished incarnation has a shelf life

Not short of torture. Ow! Ow!

....This is how

....Gash and clit

....Cash and kids

....Trash can lids

....Tits this, tits that,

....Shit pillow chat

....As per her purr-

....Me outfit want.

....You fuck my cunt

....Me outfit wear.

....God so approves

....That Jesus grooves

....The twelve disciples

SHUT

Inviting. Enticing. Hairy scrotal sacs.

Cut bell ends pressing closet buttons.

The Catholic hypocrites are in sex session.

Cross-dressers lifting cassocks.

Paedophiles in long files blinding us

To fuck-ups in the lea of wine and wafers.

....Black smoke

....White ascension puffs

....Has God’s virgin vicar balls enough

....To invent fresh means to be

....Demeaning to unclean women

....To perpetuate the myth

....That Onan was a naughty man

....A spliffed up wanker still ranked

....Higher than the whore of Babylon.

....Give her one up the bum son

....The way the priests gave you lessons

....When you least expected it

....In the crypt where your anus gripped

....His stiff Holy Father stick.

....Mummy, mummy give me dummy.

....Only women bleed. Steal seed.

....Spit it. Shit it. Leak it onto

....Gussets made complete with wings.

....In confession fat birds sing-

....Sick of dick, means to an end,

....We want to lick our lesbian friends.

....If I have a son I want him to be

....A brown one, a gay one.

THE FUCK UP!

PILLS! PILLS! GIVE ME THE FUCKING PILLS!

There is the fear of just not seeing

The flutterbyes of being fearless,

Being found out to be queer

But queerless,

Accepting we are nearly boundless.

The Kama Sutra metaphysics

Makes you hesitate;

It makes you stumble

Makes life crumble into soundless dust.

Strayed saint

Your grey-strait’s silence

Is a cowardly way to confess.

Yes. A common enough mistake

Symptomatic

Of the tragic progression

Made by man’s repressive

State of mind.

A predictable affliction

Of swervacious men unkind.

Fucking

Tough on The Queer Messiah me-

Always driven,

Hammered into cruciform wood-

The virgin trees inside of me needing to be

Fancy free

To think, to blink and act on lust impulse,

To wink with an uncensored impunity,

Given my Poet’s immunity

From mortal sin. Tee BLOODY hee.

I can fucking see it clearly now

How repulsive

You find unbinding gene genie bonds,

Moving on,

Belonging

In the yellow yolk and cum encumbered albumen

Set cracking in the nest of destiny.

I hear your gardener’s inner songs,

Classy lack-lustre,

The breves of boredom droning on;

You sing of loathing wings

And pug ugly baleful things-

The hideous and invidious imprintings

Parent BRED neurotic to fledgling SAID psychotic.

Baby crow’s feet set

In knee deep concrete.

BLOOD! BLOOD! FUCKING BLOOD!

You go to fly my love

And when the wailing pain of failing cries

Like bone splints

From your shackled heels-

All the world’s wise creatures

Will feel the evil crack

Of that soul poacher’s trap.

You know.

Better the devil you know-

Jesus Christ on Saturday nights,

Satan on the Sunday.

Fuck me Jehovah! It’s BLOODY Monday.

You got stuck on Wednesday baby.

When I am happy my tired smile

Drools grey noodles of congealing spunk-

Whose seed it is, I care not a toss.

Face and bum cheeks straining at the thought of

Counting back too many strange cocks.

COME ON! Game off.

To think I once

Believed it was conceivable

To magic up a mythic miracle

To dance outside your circumstantial

Trance state.

Hell!

While we were being elevated to heaven.

I was shooting porn in Gran Canaria

Bungalow eleven.

It was a sensual leviathan of fun.

Now the whole idea of us

Is too bent out of shape,

Distant, far too far-fetched,

A wretched stretch of buttered butt

No more contemplated by you.

Ask Jack the way it works,

Jerks back and forth, an enemy

Of sexual stability.

It hurts. It hurts.

A pitying knell has rung to bring an end to play.

More lessons.

My Will-he-won’t-he Tell-tale bear

Has put his momentous bow and arrows away.

I take the untouched apple from my crown.

This is my cue-

I bite into the sour fruit to free myself from you-

Useless juice flows down my beard

Like tears turned into dry cider.

It’s been

An afternoon of summing up- mathematics,

A simple division of parting hearts.

Thought acrobatics with no safety net.

The sawdust circle begging for

BLOOD.

That raw fact screams

At my already cheese-wired neck

Like your pet X-box vampire bat

Attempting to put back the BLOOD INK that you sucked

From my virtual cock

To pen me passionate letters with.

I’ve watched all those dried to rust brown

Words- bits of my river fluid self,

Lift

Like ghosts made of smoke

From a rained on

Half-dead bonfire of winter leaves.

Christmas still twinkling in red neon berries

On the frost buggered shrubs.

The New Year howling

Like a wolf-witch wielding his new broom

Looming at my bedroom window

Tongue out, dick in.

How small

Could this lost society be-

Well,

I am gone. Lofted way too tall,

Grown too fond of cock and arse-n-balls.

Fuck me!

I love my moral busting wanderlust minority.

You protesting too much suspect hets-

I shall not be parted from it.

Yes dear, queer dear,

Not ever worth the fuckin’ secret call

To arms.

Arms of deceit.

Arms in retreat,

Defeated ‘fore a shot of gizz was fired.

This love/hate/love is no longer war.

But you’ve let me unilaterally fashion a peace-

Our gay territory, I guess,

A stereotypical gift, ‘THE THEY’ repeatedly say,

IT of us

...Recidivist spunk alcoholics,

...Ginger bearded angels

...Touched by nature’s pink smudge stick.

ENOUGH!

I could never be

The beast to hurt you.

His unbidden hooves stir dirt

For no-one.

So

At the very least see

Virtue

In letting me be me.

Chris Madoch © 2008