Bill Drennan


Street Pigeons

Eight yr old kid, he looks haggard already, passes me and is lingering saying to me how he hated the fucking birds, hated the birds, the fucking birds. The kids, street-urchins, with deep red rings around their eyes. Certainly, an explanation is required. Some haunting reason for this premature physiognomical ugliness, the deviation from innocence, the scrotalized stare. They threw stones as I drove past. Missed. They should have kept the stones for the street-pigeons. For the birds will wonder where their enemies have gone and refuse to eat bread, which in any case is not their proper food. The pigeons will turn to flesh for nourishment. They will turn on the strange kids and peck out their stares.

An Ageing Serotonin Count

of the person who took serotonin reuptake inhibitor and became a ghost turned to speed in order to shit (i said it ain't got no fibre). the total unadulterated amphetaminization of all societal order as we understand it.   it's already here.   the big zoo. it's always been here. an animal-driven order padded out in ineptitude governing & governed by decay. the inestimable gulf between the deepest throat & the hanging hemorrhoid & the relation to grape-plucking in an english country garden. take retreating ice as a fair example. or the pathogenic motions of multinationals. the contortions of bigotry at all levels based on basic incompatability issues between groups of self-interested & sycophantic mammals. if we are here on this planet by chance we are governed by chancers. it's all one big suicide-squabble. best thing to do with your body your self is stretch it but they stretch only empires conglomerates shifty global missions stretched to buggery they all fell out an started a war i think it was over an american chocolate bar the kind they used to give to native kids in films a slight shift in inflection & the little ones understand. a slight tectonic shift & the fabric becomes too tight the saviour becomes another politican demagogue king moneybag protector & lord knave dictator puppet superpower cia racket terrorist-monger a bush & blair twin corporate construction smile you've got to drop names if you don't you're nothing right

Bill Drennan was born Glasgow, Scotland 1962. Began writing song lyrics in teens & soon realised that some ideas were too absurd for song. So writing on & off (mostly off) until he began to study literature at Liverpool University, where he became involved with other poets & read & published some poems & wrote a couple of unpublishable novels. Gradually, after finishing doc thesis on Blake & gnosticism & taking cover in reality, he continued to write, tho until recently was doing so fairly solo. Began blogging & reconnecting last year. Author of flightpath resistor, Spring 2007. babalon euphoria to follow ..." ? Still in Liverpool.


 
 
 
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