Films What I Have Seen At The Cinema

January to June 2010

Nine (3)
Avatar (6)
Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll (8)
A Prophet (9)
The 39 Steps (5)
The Road (6)
Up in the Air (7)
A Single Man (7)
Shutter Island (8)
The Headless Woman (7)
The Killer Inside Me (8)
Greenberg (7)

we have eaten them all

circling they fly across september
blood red council of crows
hand in hand we lie stubble scraping
watching the portents
formation mirroring our own outstretched arms
touching the horizon gathering the harvest
annunciations of plenty
we declare the heavens open for business
we declare the heavens open for feasting
between the trees beneath the crows
we plight our troth we hold our tongues
there are no words left
we have eaten them all

Russell J Turner - June 2010

we closed the circle

so there i was with cass down the pub i'd always fancied her but never tried it on she was more like a mate and we'd had a few and got onto that six degrees of separation thing and cass was laughing like what's the figure for shagging you know i shagged him and he shagged her till everyone is linked by a chain of fucking like what do reckon for the number of people between us coz i screwed jack and he was going out with penny and i know she slept with jenny once though they both deny it what a laugh penny and jenny didn't you shag her yeah a couple of times so that's four degrees between us and it's even got a rhyming lesbian link in it that's one for the cv we were laughing like fuck and i was getting a hard on under the table just thinking about it wondering if cass was getting horny as well and i remembered my ex paula once told me she'd screwed steve when he was going out with cass and i didn't know if cass knew but i was so fucking turned on i told her anyway and she loved it laughing and laughing and laughing that makes three i said but don't you see she said it makes a circle me jack penny jenny you paula steve me again we're screwing each other we're screwing ourselves and we were so proud of it we went to the gents i didn't even try and hide my hard on we drew it on the blackboard a circle of life a fucking great circle and i fucked her against the toilet wall and we closed the circle

Russell J Turner - June 2010

Cocksucker

For Frances.

Somewhere...

Your script is written on sheets of stone;
Desperate to take the long way home:
Destined for somewhere,
Put on your black hair,
Get in your car and drive and thrive.
Get in your car and stay alive.

Kill me with your kindness, mother;
God died when I was just sixteen.
Show me the silver screen, sister;
This town leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
Fetch me a forlorn fuck, lover:
There's an itch that only a man can scratch.

So he took her to his bed and kissed her,
Took her to his bed and wept because he loved her,
Took her to his bed and promised that he missed her,
Took her to his bed and whispered that he wanted her.
Held her till the dawn broke down the door
And slid its icepick through her eyes…

Anywhere...

'I do not know Tyrone Power.
I fucked him a lot, but I do not know him.'

I opened up like a flower,
Sucked his sweet cock, but I do not know him.

Those boys may deprave you,
But God will not save you.

'Gentlemen, this meeting is over...
I don't care to sell your goddamned orange juice.'

Nowhere...

Bring me a bourbon, brother;
Those hounds are howling in my skull.
Shower me with speed, mister;
The reds and the blues and the dancing shoes.
Though I have found hope with another:
There are hurts that only women heal.

So she crept into her head and kissed her,
Crept into her head and wept because she needed her,
Crept into her head and promised that she missed her,
Crept into her head and whispered 'I remember you'.
Held her till the dawn slipped through the door
And cast its roses on her eyes.

Your script is scraped in sheets of dust;
Beauty fades and memories rust:
Flirting with nowhere,
Stick with your fair hair,
Stay on your farm and strive and thrive.
Stay on you farm and just survive...

Everywhere...

The Sound of Seattle fills your sight,
A house on a hill turns your mind to mud.

Will you ever sleep tonight?
That house on a hill breaks your heart in three.

Those boys may deprave you,
But we can still save you.

Friends and lovers, the curtain falls:
Though sense dims yet, we do not forget.

Russell J Turner - June 2010

Sister Laudanum

For Lizzie.

Sister Laudanum takes my hand,
And bides her time, and bides her time.
Sister Laudanum gives me strength,
And bides her time, and bides her time.
Sister Laudanum names her price,
And bides her time, and bides her time.
Sister Laudanum claims her prize,
Yet bides her time, still bides her time.

The world may hold me responsible
For the failings of my lover.
But the world knows nothing.
Society may sneer at me
For the failings of another.
And society may go hang.

Sister Laudanum is my rock,
Yet takes her toll, still takes her toll;
Brings comfort to her faithful flock,
She plays her predetermined rôle:
Screaming, crying, possessed and wild,
Prostrate before the still-born child.
Sister Laudanum comes to me,
And Sister Laudanum sets us free.

Russell J Turner - May 2010

A Variegated Polar Bear

A further series of random musings.

Another Overpriced Abstraction
Three for the price of one.

Marx told me to do it,
Yeah, Marx told me to do it:
Carve a workers' paradise from the bones of bureaucrats,
Sculpt statues on every factory floor,
Scrawl platitudes across the mouths of the bourgeoisie,
And torch the bank, the mansion and the stock exchange.
Torch the bank, the mansion and the stock exchange.

Saatchi told me to do it,
Yeah, Saatchi told me to do it:
Build a bed and sleep in it,
Buy a book and spit on it,
Slice a calf and worship it,
And torch the portfolio, the museum and the gallery.
Torch the portfolio, the museum and the gallery.

God told me to do it,
Yeah, God told me to do it:
Fling whitewash on a bloodstained shawl,
Synthesise the concrete from the speculative,
Tattoo oracles on the skin of courtesans,
And torch the mosque, the chapel and the synagogue.
Torch the mosque, the chapel and the synagogue.
Torch the mosque, the chapel and the synagogue:
When God tells you to do it.

You're My Father and I Won't Renege It
For Kenneth.

You are my father and I don't deny it,
You are my father and I won't decry it,
You are my father and I don't denounce it,
You are my father and I won't renounce it.
In sickness as in health,
In poetry as in wealth:
You were my father, for better or worse,
For good or bad, for happy or sad,
In covert prose and overt verse.
You were my Father and now you're dead,
You're still my father in my head

Hark! The Chicken King Lives!
Almost a sonnet.

The Chicken King lives by the sea
In a castle made of sand.
The Chicken King has daughters three
For whom their father seeks the hand
Of a cockerel with a sense of fun,
A cockerel who will get things done,
And a cockerel who will never run
When wind and hail and lashing rain
And high tides threaten his domain.
For the Chicken King he is no fool,
And he has learned the golden rule:
That when your Kingdom's in the shit
Get your son-in-law to deal with it.

Russell J Turner - April 2010

'I Agree With NIck'

A series of random electoral missives.

A Love Letter to the Tories

Dead David.
You make me moist.
Not moist in a sexual way of course -
I'm not fucking mad
And besides, you're a married man.
No, I mean the 'I want to cry and wet myself at the same time'
Kind of moist.
You know what I mean.
The kind of moist which oozes out of your every orifice.
Ooh, now that really does make me moist.

A Message to Labour

Dear Gordon.
Oh dear Gordon.
Not looking too sharp, is it?
Best you hole yourself up in a cave in the Highlands
And twitter incoherently until it's all over.
And they give you a life peerage.
And all those lovely speaking engagements come rolling in.
Life's a bitch, eh?

An Ode to the Lib Dems

Dear Nick.
I don't really know much about you.
But that Vince Cable seems very nice -
Just the kind of mildly irreverent,
Slightly humorous chap we need running the economy.
Every body's favourite mad old uncle.
Shame you're the party leader and not him :(

Another Ode to the Lib Dems

Dear Nick.
I know a bit more about you now.
Apparently you're almost as popular as Churchill.
How the fuck did that happen?
But I still prefer Vince Cable.
Sorry :(

A Limerick for the Greens

Dear Caroline, you really are right-on,
As you scrap for their votes down in Bright-on,
For no-one should mess
With the Green high priestess,
The kind of girl I could excite-on.

A Note to UKIP

Dear whatever the fuck your name is.
I really want a suit just like yours.
So I too can look like an English gentleman.
Instead of a xenophobic twat.
Indistinguishable from all the other xenophobic twats.
Except for the colours of your rosette,
Which I will pin through your face if I get the chance.
Just to teach you a lesson.
So there.

A Haiku for the BNP

Dear Nick, I will vote
for your party when Hell free-
-zes over you cunt.

Russell J Turner - April 2010