Deep within their mind everyone will find some magic turning chemicals into cogs that turn and wind but by this abstraction that makes us think alike, what do thoughts and memories look like? Are they crystal spheres encasing what is dear, are they rapid clouds that take the shape of peace and fear, are they pets that act and do the smiles and frowns you like? What do thoughts and memories look like? Do you mind a red cat purring by your bed, its fur soft as the lips that gave you the best kiss you’ve had, a ball with radiant colours to play with as you like, are these the thoughts and memories we like? But if there comes a day, or better still, a night, when suddenly your thoughts start feeling not quite right, the cloud once up above becomes a darker grey and, as you’re driving, lands on your windscreen, in the way, the ball gets cold and bloody, and covered all in spikes and prods you, hurts you so bad you can’t work or sleep at night, the feline turned a starving beast will wait beside your bed, and as you lift your eyelids it’ll jump and bite your head, with drooling fangs it drags you to an insect-covered floor the bugs will crawl and sting you as you fail to reach the door, they get inside your mouth and your throat and choke your screams, until you, overpowered, can’t tell the truth from dreams, you’re still the same you were before, but there, consumed, you lie, the one thought left to play with is the one in which you die.

Uncle Pennybags comes to mine He’s got a proposition I can’t decline The game he runs will make me mighty fine He gives me a penny, the rest is a loan I play on my own and I am the pawn I’ll figure out the rules, says, off you go Disconcerted, I play As people around me keep saying Some win, some lose, there is no other way Be watchful, as your eyes go blind Be charming, as your mouth goes dry Be savvy, as your brain goes numb Be a lover, as your heart goes down I get familiar with the sound of the dice I trade, I deal, it even feels nice But it’s nowhere near enough, I must play twice The rent goes up, I’m kicked out of Brick Lane By the time I’m in Strand I’m red by 10k, Just one more chance, no go, I’m thrown in jail I lost all I had to the game Yet people keep saying Some win, some lose, there is no other way Be watchful, as your eyes go blind Be charming, as your mouth goes dry Be savvy, as your brain goes numb Be a lover, as your heart goes down The pyramid sits strong on our Thieving mutual spite, Unscathed by battles fought with Hammers, sickles, dynamite, BURNOUTS and constant worry Hardly equip us for a war, We’ll fight with broken bones United by an uncompromising NO

How many shores do I have to imagine how many ships shall I get on or hide in and how much salt must dry me to the bone before I reach a corner to call home The home I had, I wish I didn’t lose it was just like the place I’m headed to, my studies and my books my girlfriend and my looks yet someone didn’t want it to endure I’ve wondered longing in my hiding cell why these warmongers turned our lives to hell they say, they follow my own God’s design they kill to bring the word of the Benign Ironic, how men want to see the world as something simple which can be controlled desire for self-importance a human God to name chance they fall like fish in nets, the Gods’ patrol Their crave for victory is so intense They fail to see it makes no fucking sense I long the godless, dull utopia to live and love, and stay until we die

Silly me, I still falter Walking in shoes a good few numbers too small A happy path, yes I falter, but I won’t fall You’re sweet enough to care about The near-spent match cast aside on a walkway Picked up, dried, ignited with blinding energy I think I should thank you, for the courtesy I love your dreams, so crazy high, We know we’ll fall, we’ll know we tried, I love our schemes to cheat what’s due Our humble duty is beauty, I love you Oh, foolish prism of emotions You drove away the remorse, the regret, The resentment, the rage, the powerlessness, the neglect D’you think we’ll pay for it all one day Or it’s given forever, or found, as it may? If so, seeing so many in need, let’s give it away With music, art and beauty, let’s lead them all astray I love our dreams, so crazy high, We know we’ll fall, we’ll know we tried, I love our schemes to cheat what’s due Our humble duty is beauty, I love you

There comes the fresh and fragrant smell the morning rain, the pigs can tell it’ll make the mud just moist enough to play and have a laugh They’ll play in all their free-range glory the gleaming eyes that tell the story of happy muscle, stored and dried in the abattoir nearby Yet one pig smarter than the others stealing courgettes from his mother may have sensed that happiness comes at the expense of someone else Let’s just be happy ‘cause often we can’t see when we’re being the men and when we’ll be the pigs, and when we’re at it with all the worries gone we won’t tell whose meat we’re feasting on Perhaps this is by natural law just like the cycle of Carnot for all the joy and life we clutch we’re stealing twice as much And even leaving meat alone you’ll still consume some to the bone, yes, in the form of rubbish roasts or vegan Facebook posts Perhaps, as we discuss this gripe the pigs have got it figured out and offer us their juicy ribs as keenly as sacrificial wonderpigs Let’s just be happy ‘cause often we can’t see when we’re being the men and when we’ll be the pigs, and when you’re on it you’ll be too busy to notice what the others did for you

Soft lights, white walls, quick shallow words on depth and composition, the wall paint smell of an art exhibition A young blonde lady stops at something ‘bit unusual a somewhat edgier, brighter-coloured Bruegel and she looks beyond the silly shapes she feels she can relate, says to the artist standing by, “Why do you paint this way?” “My shapes are meant to hide What I don’t want you to see Art masks my mediocrity” He went, “The spoiled child I was was said to be quite smart, a doctor, scientist, not a son of Art but as I started school, I first got looked upon by girls, and I found out the beta male I was, I’m lucky I picked up a brush before a needle or a joint, so I could paint my blues away, and that’s the point My shapes were meant to hide What I didn’t want to see Art masked my mediocrity “What d’you think this represents?” He pointed, she replied “An endless struggle searching for the light?” “It is one way to put it, but the title may well say: ‘Frustration after forty failed dates’ You’ll never fool a woman into thinking you’re a caring man, it’s far easier to try and make of her your fan My shapes are meant to hide What I don’t want you to see Art masks my mediocrity” “If you art has no other reason, Can’t you just do other stuff?” “I could but, frankly, I can’t get enough. The brush’s my needle and my joint and in the time I could have become a doc or prof I just got hooked I’d die for a fryup for two and a shopping afternoon a job of social use and most of all I’d die for you, but I’ve replaced desire with yellow, love with red and peace with blue, how can I quit the frame of mind that gets me through” At that, she had to go and barely said goodbye “Oh well, there goes another one...” he sighed