Author: Chris Hudson

Dull shades walk the streets

Grinning inanely
The scientist said
“I’ve hotwired your brain.
As long as you behave,
You won’t have any trouble again.”

The more time goes on
The further away from the truth I seem to go.
I’m living from a distance
And I haven’t got there yet

I scatter my seeds
A handful at a time
Planting I build a temple
To nature’s glory

Time sits heavily on the marbled mantlepiece
I’m not sure if you’re real or you’re fake
The life you live is so outlandish

Le soleil brille, la mere est calme et plat, c’est un jour claire et brillant Dans le ciel des nuages flottaient comme des cheveaux en courant.
Les bateaux de peche ascende et descende gentillement
Des cries entendus des oiseax, les fleurs qui fleurissent,
Les ballades, insensibles des insectes chantaient
Et moi, humaine, inondee par des pensees.

It’s funny when
Your face seems
As as cold and as craggy as a Cobo rock

In this age it would seem
Poverty is an illness
The poor with their insanity, stupidity, inanity When all their life has been a cage.

In the depths of Winter’s snowy haze
I have seen icicles spangle encrusted faces
Diamond like; and across the sheet-white places a lost trumpet call,

In a puddle of bedraggled fag ends, locked in the loo
Restructured, renovated and riven, mill pond pedestal
Wicker basket poured scorn, Indian techno nonsensical objectives and adjectives
Overuled bypass culture designated refract zone, sniffs Columbus’s ass
Jumped the gun, was working when should have been having fun,

In 1873
The German botanist Haeckel
Invented the word ‘Ecology’
A transparent term

I don’t understand why you’re always out when I’m in My soul should be fat but it’s thin

Too many problems in my life
Just can’t cope with the trouble and strife
Dissaffection is rife
I’ve sold my virgin wife

On my travels I met a man of wisdom
Who said, “Now you are healed,”
But my head was too full
Of a thousand stories untold

Far, over planes we cannot see
Until she meets her destiny.

Is it jug or a jar?
Pandora’s offspring?
Has it come very far?

COMPLIMENTED ROUGHLY BY MOON-SPOKES DANGLING
FEAR COUNTERED INTELLIGENCE
WHIMP TURNED TO CHURCH
DISTRACTED STUNG BY TUNE

Troley was lying in a garish yellow telephone box. He had been lying there all night, and the light touch of dawn had awakened him. He was cold, and hungry.

Beggar on the street
Will this be his tomb?
of objects which our outer nature rejects
Is the love which begs us to question why?
They moved the goal posts

All my knowledge of death is allied to the life-science
All my knowledge of life is allied to the death-science
All my sickness becomes health
All my poorness becomes wealth

Ah, I knew this song so well
It must have been a previous life
In the land of the young

All native instincts were rooted out, mankind in utopia where
There was no anger or hate, yet the state still kept
Banks and banks of plasma guns, just in case, they said,
We should be invaded from outer space.