Venus Geneticus By JLG Clift

Delores
 is
looking
at
me
lusty
lithium
eyes
rest in mine
for comfort

to enchant

smoky in
colour she
is part
of a fantasy
i have
had since
i first
had
her

all those years
ago

She comes
from
a time
before
my life
now

her name
is

Delores

Evelyn

Eryx

Venus

could not
touch her
beauty
as she
lets her

Furs

roll off
crushed velvet
shoulders
as fair as
milk
but golden
in the warm
glow of the
Art Deco
lamp in the
corner

the black
Wolf's
skin
tumbles
like
a
waterfall
down the
flawless
face
of her
white
satin
back

so innocent
she looks
new born

furs
reach
the ground
beside her
school bag
and rustle

curtains
at the
opera

i take her
in
the light plays
off
her
strawberry
blonde
hair

in a bun
but unfurling
as
black chopsticks
are drawn
from

it

flows as

tinted

ink

cascades
down her
breasts
traces
hardened
nipples
surfs
over
her shoulder blades
as she arches
forwards

and
slides
her fingers

painted

streetwalker

red

over
the body
that
will always
belong

to me

the way it has
since we
met in
Sicily

all those
years ago

she
looks
so innocent
so innocent

but she
isn't

not any
more since
we discovered
uncovered
each other

reunited
in a
Roman
Cafe

17 years
after
we had
met

we became
lovers

her
fingers
mani-
cured
call me
to the
bed
to cure
me of
my ills

my idol
Delores
falls
once again
into
the

blue velvet

duvet
of the
room

her body a
feather
helpless but
to ride the
wind of
primal
desires

surrenders
her body
to
mine

She is
fan
tas
tic
every
thing i wanted
the best
money could
buy her body
is softer
every time
i feel it
skin tastes like
she bathes in
honey as
i tongue
perfection

head clamped
between stockinged
columns

china white
Delores
is
innocence
incarnate

but
she is
Venus
Eryx
always
when i am

here her
primal groans
echo through
the hotel room

I've kept
the lights on
to see her face
my family are
back in the apartment
on the
Upper East

I will
take the limo
when
I've
had my fill

of purchased
paradise

we are lost
to this feral
fantasy
our bodies
tangle
on the covers
feel her moist tongue
tease my
neck
as she pants
and
i grunt

time lapses
my lives
merge in
the outrage
of this
climax

her nails
rake down
my back
like the parting of
curtains
as i itch
her scratch
kiss her neck
just to hear
a last
youthful moan

tickle my senses

trickle through
my ear

something to
think about
with Sarah
later

i was a younger
man when
i met her
first
but she is
ageless
youth
forever

she will
always
look the same
to me

and

i love her
like

my daughter

in the smog
of a Chesterfield
Delores
picks herself
up and
puts on
her school
uniform

a word
hangs
twitching
between us
as the

Dada

dangles
in the lobby

'can we do a
different
scene
next week?'

'of course we can
Delores'

a gang of
Benjamins stretch
out from my
hand
in a money
clip and grace
her palms

'i'm not a real
hooker you know? You
don't have to give
me this'

'your my girl
Delores, i can't
have you
out there
penniless'

Venus Eryx
smiles
approves
and her hand
takes the clip

'see you next week
Dee'

we feel
warmer
than before
in the
glow
of
mutual
satisfaction

leave the room
sly smiles
all the way back
to our
lives
between
living

we only know life
in this room
in the excitement
and the discovery
and the sin

Taboo
always did
turn me on

i see it's

Genetic

Channel Child By JLG Clift

My little brother
he knows what's
on

He's my families
TV
Guide
Never lost with
a remote in his hand

like Columbus
he has discovered
a new world
but has never left the house

skin is ashen
he looks like
a victim of
holocaust
but he
doesn't mind
he has his remote
and his wi fi
and he feels

free

his hair is oil slick black
so greasy it
changes colour with
the channel

what do u
want to watch
Joe?

his eyes
used to have
colour
but now
they are dull
when not lit
by HD

he never draws the blinds
but he sees Sky
every day
his face is
brightened by it

he knows all
about Peppa Pig
and Hackgate
and genocide
and Rastamouse
and the rich list;

Deadly

60
women raped by this
man
he tells me

'horrible, horrible'
he quotes Bill
Turnbull like
firing off
scripture

my brother is

5

years

 old

he knows more
about this world
than i ever can

a Guru for the
Naughties

his knowledge
is

universal
generational

omnipotent
within the church
of the Watershed

He is
an
On Demand
Disciple

this is not
of our world

this is
the stuff
of dreams

dreamt by
Murdered
Murdoch
minds
and sickly
Fox(es)

A transformation
is occurring

His ears
begin to merge
with our set
become antenna
to keep contact
with the world
outside
his TV

add breaks
my brother
tuts

they are like
fliers in the

Bible

to him

i want to enhance
signal Joe

my brother is
Set to be like this
forever

he doesn't care
for school, he does
not care
for anything
but TV

he sits, cross legged
a skeleton child
his skin so thin
like white tac stretched
over the bones
pinned at
the joints by
moles and
scabs.

I've watched the box
suck the
flesh from
his bones
over
the years

channel
by
channel

who am i
to stand in the
way of him
and his church?

he is a Child of
these Channels

he is
lost

without them

 i can enhance the
signal Joe

my little brother
rocks forward

i saw it
in an advert
for

Virgin

thoughts
collide
with a shattering
that rings out
on Breakfast
as his head
breaks the
fourth wall

sparks kick out
gilded
fireworks
in celebration
of the

Prodigal
Son's

Return

as the screen bursts
around his crown

a halo in faltering
clarity
as Jerry clouts
Tom with a
shovel

no sound is heard
but the picture remains
replaced within
a moment

by nothing

for nothing

fractured panes
hit the
white rug
a patch work of arterial
red in
hunt of the
images

but they are
gone

and the blood
slumps
disappointed
as gravity
rakes it down
the shards

the glass catches
the scene
and reflects

all emotion
absolved in it's
apathy

blood is boiling
in the
surround sound

i hear it's last
static stutters

'viewer digression
is advised'

it
cries
coughs
chokes
dies

his head
smolders in
the set
like tar

A Virgins red

Sky's blue

combine into
purple sludge
crawls down
my brothers
neck
shoulder
blades have left

cheeks
forehead
skinned

skinned
by the screen
held in place

it pins tissue to the lilac
flesh like it's
holding up
an

unfinished
garment

a would be
masterpiece

could've been
a masterpiece

My little brother
he is what's on

He always
wanted to
be
in TV

the Phoenix Couple - JLG Clift

The worthless drones

From hopeless homes

Chant pointless lines

In perfect time

They mourn for her

The heartless whore

It makes my fucking stomach stir

I’m all alone

No fucking home

No fucking land

To hold my hand

No country song

To chant along

WITH THEM

She broke my heart

The fucking tart

The fucking cheek

To fucking speak

She sits and cries

Spills fucking lies

Into my ears

Sheds crock skin tears

Onto my bed

Into my head

She can’t be here

She’s fucking dead

WITH THEM

It’s gone to shit

The lot of it

I’m looking down

From higher ground

Watch you leave

In fucking heaps

Hit the ground

No fucking sound

Just fucking mounds

And fucking mounds

And I am not

WITH THEM

The last man stands

On no man’s land

No one to hold

His fucking hand

I look the wreck

Too lost to check

The fucking text

Upon the screen

If I had

I would have seen

The last words she

Fucking said:

‘I wish you’d all

Drop fucking dead

I cannot take

You in my head

I shall not die

I shall not wed

The fucking man

In the fucking sand

Proclaiming his love

Unto the land

I cannot stand

I cannot stand

The nicest souls

Meant for mine

They think I am

So fucking divine

I’m not I’m not I’m not

That girl

I do not take the bitter

World with virgin eyes

And a tender mind

All I see is

Fucking lies

And fucking lies

And fucking cheats

And fucking freaks

I cannot take

This fucking heat

I cannot stand

I cannot stand

Get out of the

fucking Sand

You Loathsome Man

I do not wish

To live my life

With you in this

Fucking land

Nor fucking here

Nor fucking there

Or mother-fucking anywhere

I merely want

To eek along

I do not care

For your fucking songs

And sugared words

And infant eyes

You’re fucking great

I’m fucking lies

Bravo

Congrats

Surprise Surprise

You make me feel

This fucking way

There's nothing left

To fucking say

I cannot stand

I cannot stand

Don’t try to hold

My fucking hand

Leave me on

The fucking track

I want this world

To fade to black’

She falls into

The fucking pit

With every other

Piece of shit

There is no smile

Upon my face

In fact I feel

A fucking disgrace

I blame myself for

The fucking girl

Who shed those words

To burn the world

To burn my heart

And singe my soul

Make my thoughts

As black as coal

I want to dive in

To this fucking hole

But there’s no room

For me to loom

To fall into

My fucking doom

No fucking room

For timely demise

I walk the world

Her fucking lies

The only words

Inside my head

shadow vultures
pick the dead

but one amoung
glows cherry red

the Phoenix burning
feathers churning
on the winds flailing
her body failing
the rot scaling
the wings
strips the feathers
from the bones
she cries above
the constant yearning
never learning
i don't care

Anymore

she can scream
her rouge throat raw
until she falls
into the hole
her body burned
red turns to coal

and she does
and she has

And now she laughs

Down in the pit

For leaving me

This heap of shit

And I am trapped

WITH HER

WITH
NO ONE

WITH HER

Native Thoughts - JLG Clift

There is

a surge

an urge

a burn

a churn

a drive

that thrives

within my

soul

I am

failing

to control

this vibe

that courses

through

sub-

conscious realms

as a tribe

of need

they chant

for a breaking

as my

teacher

rants

about taking

the message of

mediocrity

'i must break free' but

his preaches persist

and are absorbed

by tribe-less minds


colonised

sterilised

victimised



I will not

become

one

of

them

Ode to a Teacher - JLG Clift

Facist swine
that
takes my wants
to wine and dine
doesn't have
to strive to
get what I
could never
afford
hoardes
everything
I ever
wanted


he keeps
them
in vaults

vaults that
run in
spirals down
Number 10
down his storage
towers above us
in every
poster
roars
in every
speech

But I've
 met him
looked down
at him
heard his
speech tumble
in
mumbles from
trembling lips

'Don't Hurt Me'
he stutters
in mutters

I wish I had

Public School Primitives - JLG Clift

Look around
see them
dragging
their
knuckles

PMs
Primitive Ministers

Yahoo

is a
compliment
to the
Eton chimps
that bang
their fists
on relic desks
that
serve as
altars for a
sacrifice
of reason

laws, wise words
are torn out
hurled
balled up they
leave simian grasps

fly from
right
to left

from left
to right

thuds
followed
by howls

that echo through

these hallowed
halls once housed
nation's fate

but no longer

look around
and i
see them
dragging
their
knuckles

our fate
is decided

we are all
lost in the
wake of

primitive
notions

forced
to
endure the
motions
of this
privileged
zoo

Stating the Obvious - JLG Clift

state of things

i am

we are

in
a
state

of things

cities full
of perishables
all of us
become
extensions
of our
things

sucked
into the
sludge

trapped
in our
shrines
to our stuff

waiting
to erode
into metropolis
paved over
to form
foundations

for more
states

and more things

sorry to

state
the obvious

but i must
for i feel
we have
been blinded
by materials
sealed our
eyes shut
out the

common sense

we don't need
common sense

we have
things
to
replace that

we have
things
to replace
everything

one day
we will have
a thing
to replace
ourselves

sorry
for stating
the obvious

Elective Destruction - JLG Clift

I give you

Grass, lovers, life, law, faith, poetry, man

Victory, song, sound, colour,

Purple green yellow orange black brown

 

 Red, white, blue

 

Thought

 

Progress

 

I give you

Suicide

Rot, death, wrecks, lies, sin, man, fractured

Lovers, baying for affection in the arms of another

False partner as

The American

 Dream roars in the guts of the

Cars racing in grumbles past their mo-

Tell us of vows now vacuous

Empty words

 

Retreat

 

Progress

 

Retreat

 

Thought’s trickle to the front of the

Mind

Too late to act

We are stumbling

We are crumbling

 

Light bursts through

The window of the motel as

The lost lovers intertwine

Impoverished

Once again

 

The roar of the

American

Dream

Engine

Is

With them,

Reaches for the western wall,

Stretches for the TV Set

Breaks the forth wall

Big Dreams are ploughing

Threw smaller dreams

Asunder

 

It’s voyage crushes

Tangled comforts

Thuds through the head

Boards the furniture to watch

The future

 

Big Dreams pounced on small

One

‘S

Mercy

Less

They had their eyes closed

They don’t look

 

They don’t look

At

Each other

 

They have never looked at each other

They will never

They are native

Paste on the

 

Arches of progress.

 

Engine parks up

Light hits the TV

Power

On

Power

Houses of American

Dreams pull up

To watch the

Show

 

It’s been a

Hell of a ride

 

Ladies, gentle

Men

 

I give you

Progress

 

I give you

 

 An Election Drive

Echos - JLG Clifft

do we
crumble
so
easily?

what have
we

become? nothing

absolutely
fucking
nothing

eek
our lives
away
hour by hour
apathy
incarnate

apathy
eternally

makes me
want to
bring
a shotgun
to school

make canyons
though the
thickness
of my
peers

send some
buckshot
facts
through
forgetful
fools

make them
see
feel
leak
wince
twitch
die

by the
truths
of
the void
between

 what
we are

and what

we
should
be

i watch
them become
ashamed
of our culture

the

raputre

of a

revelation

ruptures

their
bodies

travels
from the barrel
faster than
sound

it is
the fastest
thing
in existence
whistling
through
corridors

it is
thought

revelation
that
becomes
revolution

once stuck
in their
cattle
thick
skulls

it'd be
worth it

if it causes
someone
to have
 an
opinion

i will
take the
consequence

savaged
by
SWAT

have my brains
become
plaster on the wall
they line
me up against

a noble
exit
a martyrs
exit
to become
nothing
like everything
we are

but
at least
i tried

we
shut off
a long
time ago

saw the world
hand us everything
we could ever
want

and then
snatch it
away

to give to the few
that didn't
need

and we
couldn't
go
on

had to
create
comatose
states
to exist in

too much
pain to
go on
like we had

when we
held hands
and embraced
in fields
before
vanishing
beneath the
big
black
boots

of power

we
were trampled
became
part of the
earth we
protested
on our
bodies
lost

but the
words
linger

our revelations
echo
eternally

i hear
them

you hear
them

we
hear
them

but
we
are
scared

we have
seen
what happens

we have seen
too much
to dare
any
more

we deafen
ourselves

turn up
TOWIE

tune out
the thoughts
our
culture
was founded
on

we're
dominoes

waiting
for a
revelation
to spark
a revolution

one of words
and reason
met with
the force
of the revolted
rulers
but not
beaten
by it

we win

it
takes
one

just
one

they can't
catch us
all

like they

caught
 me

can they?

Pompeiic - JLG Clift

Run
Keep
Running
Feet
clapping
like the
crowds

that have come

for you

Run
do it

just do it
you can do it
ignore
the bombs

going off
around you

see the
carnage
ravage
the stands

as

bodies erupt
into paste
and slap against

camera's
right

the lens
stalks
the anarchy
to see you
run the
hundred
in under
ten

the footage
is priceless
the death
irrelevant
as your legs
pump they're
mechanised marched
at 100 miles
an hour

2012

people
at the
stadium dead
in a city
crumbling
as the
track
stars
tumble
to the rasps
of rifles

you are the only
one to cross the
finish line

you did it
you
broke the record

the cabinet
applaud
from number 01
sipping cider
under the
shade of
ivy clad
parasols

regal chuckles
echo like
wind in
blizzards
above the crackle
of carnage

London
decimated
by Patriots
Pride
Pagan
Idols
Ideals

imported
from
Athens
Olympians
come over

Oblivious
they arrive
Trojans
for
Terror

All as planned

We are
lost
to

Oblivion

as a
mushroom
bursts across
sagging sunrise
spreads like
fungus
strips our skin to
the bone

Number 01
lives on
the Cabinet
closed over
put on the top
shelf
safe from

irrelevant
masses

crumble

the next
day
when the world
walks through

they dub
what
 they see

'Pompeiic'

we are
heinous
sites

a permafrost
sea
of
3D
shadows
obsidian
with a
tint of
red
crumbling into
the pavement
at the click
of a
shutter

snapping

at
a charred
family
fused to
the rotting leather
seats
of a 4 by 4

as
the world
is fused to
sofas
gawping
at the
spectacle

they can't
believe
you broke
the record

the Cabinet
emerge
from the darkness
of their hideaway

they look
well
rested

their suits
are immaculate

they got a tan

before
they arrive
staff barge through the
charred crowds

we are but
relics of
current
events
to be shattered
and swept
into the gutters

that's where the
staff has been
told

they
belong

a light man
in a dark suit
and power tie
approaches
an
antique
ash
lectern
set up by staff
in preparation

for his return to
the surface

his face is
rouge
on film
his shadow
stretches
all the way
up the face of
Number 01

a streak of
tarmac upon
the whiteness
of the brickwork

the shadow
has horns
like shards
of glass

his cowlick
it must be
his cowlick

the staff
slick it down
and disappear
into the irrelevance
outside of
the len's eye

his lips
draw back
into a smile
as he turns
to his Right
Hand in a Yellow
tie
and winks

the red light
comes on
and he is
on air

the smile is
gone
he is on show
now
to the world

'this is
a sad day
for London
but we will
prevail'

the lenses
continue to
snap
like
the jaws
of rabid dogs
chomping

for the front page

the speech
rattles through
the airwaves

the delivery
is
Oscar Worthy

a nation, is brought
to its knees
by the words
he says

practised in the
mirror as he
shaved
this morning

he smelled our death
outside
a couple of
spurts
of his aftershave
saw to our memories

the camera shuts
down, and he steps
from his
podium
to hear the good
news

from Os
'the Borne to be'
chancellor

'good news DC, we've been given
a global donation, the recession
is over'

a high five
echoes down
the street
as the

 Right

 Honourable

Gentlemen

celebrate

'told you it would work'

Creator Colonial - By JLG Clift

i walk on water
i walk on land
stand in every
texture, my foot
prints have soiled every
plate of food for
my young
my pure, my future

colonials

i walk
in

thunder clouds

they call

me white

lightning

but i have
so many

names

i let my future strike
like 9
tales of my power
dart from the mouth of the
wise to the children
their gods

know my

chil
dren's

sec
rets

but no one wants to listen
as they first arrive, with gifts

May

we

Flower

in the dawn of the new world

my children's leather
feet
are mistaken for
hooves
in the prints they make
as they bring clothes,
and concepts
and language
and friendship

and pity

and arrogance

and alcohol

and industry

and sickness

to noble savages
cannon fodder to the history of
U.S
to be reserved in huts
as we build around them
a reserved warning,
stilted in time
of why

my children are
so great

of why i am,
so great

but the first time
none of this happens
my colony
my message
and me
we sit with the
native sheep that grazed
the Plains where they saved
us from what should have
'been out in the cold;
too long; we are lost children'
we told them

lies

all

lies

they trusted like Good animals do
and now i shake
hands with the chief
and his wife

i like his headdress
like the blood red feathers and the tear blue beads
it is sacred to him
it will be on a carton of cigarettes
in years to come

good old

Natural Americans

their Spirits are mine

feel her flesh, warm, she feels like sunrise
silken palms
are crushed between my ice white

Callas

hands
in greetings

at the start of
the
first thanksgiving

they are sitting down to eat
our poisoned traditions
and my children, my colony, will be
sitting alone in years to come

they won't be here
they will be in
holes,
sacred to them
sacred to us
until our pity gives way
and we need

new land to build on

a man sits now,
hair thinned, white, sagging skin tanned like leather
beneath a tailored suit
and power
tie loosened in anticipation
of a Sunday roast
slaved over by black
shadows in white aprons
four hours
eaten in minutes over
scraping forks and
pop culture quotations

no thanks

look like a working man
but his hands are smooth
he hasn't worked
ever
because he is my colonial
and i love him

i gave him land
oil
money

he gives me a war,
he gives me a massacre
influence

god bless GW

I'm not god
but that is

one

of my names