Zombie Revenge

Inspiration:

People – Squid (always looking beyond the obvious)
Blogs - http://www.thecleanwhitepage.com - offbeat incentive
Books – Wolf Totem – Jiang Rong – Animism and the big ones
Music – N-Type, King Cannibal & Joker (bass heavy madness)

It wasn't long after I got bit, perhaps only ten or fifteen minutes, that things began to change. Looking back now, I guess the main change was in my feelings, my friends, well I call them friends, the people who escaped together, ran together and attempted to 'survive' together; they were my fleeting friends. In our minds I assume we all felt the same; it would work out like in the movies, we'd be hero's, fall in love; fuck to dying cinema lights across the world. We never considered that 'fatal' bite to be a lucky card.

For most people before us, death meant a sudden change, a loss of memory and a new innocent life - what ever was appropriate. But for us, death was a protracted process, a journey that would make us understand and value every future breath. A chance to be part of the living dead.

It was the sudden loss of identity, narcissism and person. This hit home hard at fast. Groups of people suddenly began to act as one, an evil one I admit, but a short lived collective one at least. There was so much death and human consumption that all our preconceptions of a world evaporated. I admit a greed filled us to consume and I think posses, but suddenly the mind was attempting to leave a body with deserted eyes, it was trying to find the next stage, but had time to glimpse the previous whilst knowing there was a next.

It was this moment, when the old human conscious was erased, questions were answered. No one had predicted this outside of the b movie cinemas, there was no plan, no army on stand by, no safe zones or escape. It consumed humanity and brought it together. Gradually we sat down to stave and thought, we prepared for the next – together. And yes this is where we ended up, jumping passed a few steps.

Autumn Sky

Influences – Train ride to London reading Wolf Totem – Jiang Rong

Autumn evening skies are black with night, an almost comforting black, the kind that proceeds the cold of winter. In the early purple evening, stars wake up, companions to walk home with. Later their beautiful litter seeps through closed windows as the world slips into night. All this after a late afternoon sun set, a tepid pallet which highlights the enormity of the sky, scattered clouds perspectives slashed with aviation trails.

A gentle cold that condenses breath to white cloud wonderlands. No summer sun to stew the jogger, just that morning autumn air, not yet cold enough to burn lungs but cold enough to create those mysterious wonderlands. The winds breath a sudden bite after it's summer caress.

It's the commute home for many, stranded many lane motorways, clogged with lights both red and white. Like serpents that writhe across fields, passed skeletal trees and huggled thorny bushes. Asphalt loneliness and dreams of a warm dinner. Possibly lasagne or stew and dumplings or roasted squash soup with chilli and bread. An embrace for the lucky a microwave for the lonely.

Hedge fruits, red or black or oaken and hovering birds, rodents collecting for the months ahead. The last of summers elegance caught in the orange and yellow and purple memory of leaves. A temporary death, a hibernation of green, a spiders dream whose web glistens with morning dew in slanted dawn light.

The death of summer is beautiful, a last breath of grace before the barrenness of winter, whose desolation is so complete it can breed hope of the spring and summer to come.

Leaving London Town (soon).

The job decision decided. The London job fell through, at the last moment. My cards played for me. It's off to Hong Kong in five or six weeks. Scary stuff, 'How does one go about emigrating?' I guess this blog will provide the answers over the next few weeks.

It should be exciting, but it feels lonely. I'll be leaving someone who has my heart. I'll be leaving many friends who have my joy. Naturally my first thought was to go and see my heart's harbor. So I popped downstairs, jet bike keys in hand. The engine on my jet bike is broken, so I power it using an assorted collection of happy birthday balloons and a hand held fan. Luckily the wind was with me; the journey shouldn't take too long.

Balloons inflated, fan switched to full – I set off...

Drifting over London's sky line is amazing, I'm not sure whether people have ever landed at Heathrow, it's one of the best plane landings in the world. I float down Kennsington High Street, passed the anti-social police who search the pockets of homeless people, before moving them on. Passed a collection of gaudy and predictable consumer havens. Passed the tube station; which I try to avoid. High above Hyde Park, where I sometimes run circumnavigating the Beautifully Baroque Albert Hall, home to concerts and smiles.

Over Marble Arch, with statues of ripped hero's of old on stallions. Tall Georgian business districts, beautiful but inaccessible, wave to the Queen at The Palace, pass down bustling oxford street, Christmas songs already playing for shoppers (maybe I need some ball bells for my tree). Glass shop windows display what you 'can' have through an impenetrable barrier. The far reaching chimney pot skyline of a beautiful city.

Themes slipping through London to my side. Days of old it delivered money to the banking district, now optical connections do that. Glass monoliths that influence The World. Train lines that go everywhere. Trendy east London, tight jeans and hair cuts, pubs and bars where I often smile and dance with friends. I set the jet bike down in Bethnal Green, lock it to an iron fence painted black, opposite The Buddhist Center.

I ring the door bell, lucky guess the password, take the lift upstairs, heart beating, hands sweaty. Curry ingredients in hand.

I'll miss London Town, but I want to leave happy. I feel my heart will be harbored for eons to come.

Hollywood Ending

This started off as a poem about winning a heart but turned into an anti-capitolist rant. it's funny how words evolve.

Dead rodent breath.
Saturday morning blues.
Win the prize.
By bribing the judge.
Only got to find
that lethal judge.
Living free amongst
skeletal trees of autumn.
graveyard fantasy.
hydrocarbon vapour.