untitled, from Judas Jesus book

A boy hung himself by the neck

from the bell rope in the steeple of the church on 109 St.

the steeple of his neck was crowding his temple

woke up this mourning

his brain was dead

WELL SO WHATs another gimmick in a commercial suicide town

where they've planned the obsolescence of even the consumer

..give the conscience a recyclement placebo to ease the guilt, then

step up the amount of packaging to redress the balance, leavin thousands of orphaned trees to accomodate a

new MASTERS OF THE LUNIVERSE

(i continue to be infected by the carcinogenic fallout of fucking failed

marketing strategies...yeah, everybody i know is busy lickin corporate

fat fuckin ASS

it aint who ya know it's why ya BLOW...)(you know who you are)

masked murder and mass anaesthesia

gross aesthetics and christian erotica

(homogenized, airbrushed and dehydrated)

Got bought a drink by the new sobriety, kinda like a wallet with a

piece of elastic on it. Spiked w/heroin. And the feds're hidin round

the corner ready to pull it in and pull your ass in, yeah.

They's holdin a flask for you to piss in, for your convenience...

chase the fade into the horizon

(it's an ongoing process)

it's always twilight in them grey nether regions

and i ran out of matches

dinosaurs roam the deepest recesses of my mind

they know of their imminent extinction

and i'm a dying species too...

The last of my kind and unfortunately not long for this earth

The minute i stopped suckin my thumb i started suckin shit through a straw

every day a fresh and newly oozing absess appears.

i'm up to my throat and i'm standin on stilts

fee fuckin fi-high ho hum

god

doctor foetus and mister hyde

'n i may change at any second

there's a well-worn track twixt the couch and the frigid air

cos i pace my place like a caged lion

and i seem to have done a fine job at reducing my attention span to a minimum.

Too much stewing and deliberation breeds too much frustration and pain...

Therefore i resort to my temporary temporal mind muddlement.

I dont alter my consciousness any more, i merely fluctuate between varying degrees of nausea. It's nigh on

impossible to free myself from personal terrestrial constraints and complaints. Always one toe on the ground.

And that toe is saturated. With guilt, fear of reprisals, desire to deliver.

i supress so much for the longterm good

but you can only bite your lip so many times til its gangrenos scabs

begin to infect and poison your psyche

freedom is to have nothing

to have anything is imprisonment

which explains the desirability of a clean slate

yeah, i hate, yet am imprisoned by, chores, schedules, feeding time, fetching time, turning it down, turning it

up, turning it off, paying bills and paying fucking attention

all pay

all prey

no play

I'M UP TO MY THROAT THOUGH I'M STANDING ON STILTS

SLIDE A BULLET INTO MY CHRIST

LEECH UPON LEECH SUCKED ON DOWN til there aint NO MO, jes DRY TO

THE BONE._I HOPE THEY CHOKE ON IT!_malignant lumps're TOO GOOD for THEM, however...

made SHORT WORK o THAT f'SURE!

tis an ill wind doth bloe in and blowing,

scattering dust and ashes to the wind

there aint no more, not even a shadow

nor scent

nor footprint

or even blurred memory or the hint of a whiff of a soul

there aint nothin, jes nothin

cos there aint NOTHING no more

there aint no more

jestnot

nothin

STATISTICS AND THE LAW PUT A BULLET THROUGH MY CHEST

I'M UP TO MY THROAT THOUGH I'M STANDING ON STILTS

SLIDE A BULLET INTO MY CHRIST

NAPALM AFTERSHAVE and AFTERBURN filling old champagne goblin

sliding down the huge endless slippery surface scrabbling for a foothold and the strain is showing as the veins

pop out

of the side of the head

and BURST bloodying the pure pristine driven snow

dribbling in burning abrasive tributaries all the way down to san antone

next stop: primal prognosis and prostrate problems (no, sis)

SIDEBURN AND AFTERBURN FLESHPOWDER DUST

ME BE PRYING DRY SKIN FLAKES OFF THE SCALP WITH THE BUSINESS END OF A CROWBAR

(the worst goddamn case of dandruff i ever seen)

WENT CLEAN THROUGH TO THE BRAIN!

WET RIGHT THROUGH AND PRUNY!

scale of skin float through air like motes of dust

they CLOG your NOSTRILS when you BREATHE!

I SCRAPE THEM OUTA MY NOSE WITH AN ICEPICK AND WIPE THEM ON THE SHEETS AND

BEDPOST FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

THE WASTE OF HUMANITY AND MY TIMES PAST

PERMEATE, NAY, CLOG THE AIR

CLING TO MY CLOTHES AND CLOUD MY VISION

ALREADY IMPAIRED AND DECAYED THE INNER EAR

EVERY SCREAM SAYING WORD AND USELESS MOMENT HANGS IN THE AIR AS IF TO REMIND YOU OF YOUR OWN FUTILITY AND LACK OF MOBILITY

SOUNDWAVES CLOG THE AIR AND EYES IN

RETRIBUTION FOR THEIR MISUSE

NAH, THEY DON'T DISSIPATE ...THEY JUST GO TO HELL AND REGROUP

AND GROPE AROUND IN THE DARK IN SEARCH OF THE PERFECT HANDLE

HANDLE WITH CARE THE misHANDELed MESSIAH

oooooooo,i just ate)

it all comes crowding BACK at you and man it's ugly

NO WONDER you wrote escape clauses

and dig five hundred foot tunnels with a spoon...

it aint the heat it's the taint of humanity

it AINT my HUMILITY, it's the man in me...

an it be screamin I WANT OUT! I GOTTA GET OUT!

I WANT TO GET OUT

OUT

the fever blew the mercury out the business end of the thermometer

and it has not yet begun to pitch

i got an itch i cannot reach

i call a nail a nail

like the great white dyin whale, washed up on the beach

belches a sickburp, retches roars and vomits*

and from the slime emerges my jonah

half eroded, rotten, and decayed by digestive juices

crawls from the crumpling wreckage of blubber and bone

and falls flat on his stomach

kisses the sand

the terror

the firmer

The new blood is never announced...the silence hangs heavy and sits in

a pool of its own refuse..have you seen that vigilante man?

my ankles're gripped as if in quicksand, i'm strugglin with that vast

wet membrane of inhumanity..the walls are closing in..i feel real cold.

and i've never been so alone. there's a lump in my throat the size of

an apple. i'm trying not to breathe..tears fill my eyes and i sigh and i

sigh but it's never deep enough now all i can do is sigh but i'm gaspin

i so hollow inside a dull empty vessel oooooh put me outa this misery lord

the path of resistance is a long and lonely one

ever feel like a victim?

ever FEEL like a VICTIM?

film at eleven

YES I FINALLY BOWED TO THE INCESSANT NAGGING AND FELT MUCH THE WORSE

FOR THE EXPERIENCE

SUCH IS THE WEIGHT AND DRONE OF MY LIFE.

RULES/REGS.

MONKEY SENSE

we all stand NAKED and HUMILIATED before the DEMONS in our HEAD

of SELF JUDGEMENT AND SELF EVALUATION

we all need private box numbers

and we're all fools at the urinal

amen


From the book Judas Jesus, 1989? Black Sheep Press / Rolf Vasellari, Switzerland.

By: J. G. Thirlwell/Clint Ruin/Scraping Foetus off the Wheel

Thanks to William Fitzgerald for transcription.

Note: the * above is not referenced elsewhere in the book; it's a quote from the Alex Harvey song "The Tale Of The Giant Stoneater."


22 Mar '99.