sabato 23 luglio 2011


Amy Winehouse Has Died

Sky News has confirmed that Amy Winehouse was found dead inside of her home in London. I'm going to need more receipts before I do the slow wall fall while silently screaming out, "Wi-noooooooooooo."
It looks like I got those sad receipts. The police issued a statement to theBBC saying that a 27-year-old woman was found dead in Amy Winehouse's house at a little after 4pm today.
"Police were called by London Ambulance Service to an address in Camden Square NW1 shortly before 16.05hrs today, Saturday 23 July, following reports of a woman found deceased.
On arrival officers found the body of a 27-year-old female who was pronounced dead at the scene.
Inquiries continue into the circumstances of the death. At this early stage it is being treated as unexplained."
Unconfirmed reports say that Amy died of an alcohol and drug overdose.
A lot of people are saying that we all saw this coming, but I really didn't. Maybe I'm naive as all fuck. But I thought Amy Winehouse would outlive us all and make a million more albums and throw spit bombs at a million more bitchy fans. You know, like Keef Richards or Courtney Love. I really don't know what to say. I'm sure Amy's sitting around the 27 Club table with Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison right now.
Rest in peace, Amy. Your voice spoke to my broken heart, nobody could wore a busted mound of black polyester hair like you and ballet slippers will never be the same again.

giovedì 7 luglio 2011


"squintin the word snipped like sight by sunlight
through smoke and a deep blue screen flecked in christ
knows what blood and remnants of - oh - sirens all
the time . did you hear any just as you read that? how peculiar

do I look like an untrustworthy person? indecipherable letters
from pirate brothers and Austrian and Finnish girls. I know they trust me
because they write about songs, and deep held beleifs of old
held dear in true hearts. cut me up in charicature
and slap me down and bang me up but you can't bleed bones dry
of infinite melody dizzy with fame and misfortune, ruinin lives habitually.

the doctor looked at me and said 'you're goin to become an alcoholic'
my frame is slight but warped with fury and some devilish resistance.
vodka rivers followin a car north at a rate of knots, spewing out a window.
I think not doctor. Its to be abstinance or a return to the palace of bone.

i sit awhile with a forbidden government author
heart biro'd round so many times it seeps through the pages
enveloped in sadness and hides too the longing to be free. at least,
to decide. If I should cry in a sweat box taken from the magistrates to some cell think this only - that if I'd kept my nerve
and my legal aid pulls it off, the I wanted to thank god

and anyone who never trusted me because I mostly tell the truth.
even when I lie"



Can't tell who breaks light in 2
threads marble through
leaks in table give

There are no clues
except for a pair of old shoes
a morning full of blues
a brand new bruise

Some time before right now
i like getting up in the morning
and watching the sun going down
i like getting up in the morning
on the eening you know?
Dream splinter like a cosmic book catastrophes
colours like windows planks and
Nearly all
Sits about a cloud of dust


January 29

I see paint-cracked walls stained with shite
Long long lock-up days
Cold lonely nights
And I think to myself ... what a wonderful world
I see men touching fists
Saying "watcha bruv"
Screams from below
Shit parcels from above
And I think to myself ...
I see my true love
On a Rimmel advert