Going Through the Motions
A promotions like demotion when you're stuck beneath the ocean
A merman ain't so special when he's going through the motions
A merboy young and free, well I would dream of having feet
I'm 22 and have cold fins, I just want some devotion
I want those legs, I'd live and I'd devote myself for free
The leader of the Kingsguard of Atlantis I would be
I'd kick and punch with pride and I'd play music on the side
Some law respecting harmony with legs just like Bruce Lee
Instead I work offshore, I use my time and it's a bore
I work for Norssea Inc. and it's a stint so I'm not poor
A weekly long report, and I am worked like some seahorse
We grow and package seaweed with no glamour or rapport
My boss she was just smiling when she told me of the news
Now Kerry's gone and Michael's scrubbing skid marks in the loos
And you'll be my assistant, in this graduation system
A 15 year career, be coherent or you'll lose
A promotions like demotion when you're stuck beneath the ocean
I'll have those feet one day and I can get out this commotion
I'll kick the fuckhead faces of propriety and society
This merman has potential but he's going through the motions

Aren't You Bland
Have you ever eaten cold crisps?
No? Didn't think so.
I suppose you're one of those normies who likes snacks of the savoury variety when
they're, how would you put it? 'Room temperature'.
It seems to me you're a sheep person who follows your friends around all day and buys food from the cafeteria when they do.
'Oh gee! I can't wait to eat this roast dinner as it comes, I sure do expect this gravy to
be steaming with heat and these carrots to be reasonably crunchy, on this Sunday
That's something I reckon you'd say.
When you go to your 9-5 job at Nationwide, do you pack a cheese and ham sandwich?
Do you not like the crusts that much, but end up eating them anyway because your dad
told you when you were younger that 'it'll make your hair grow curly'.
Even though he's bald now and his name is obviously John and you've fallen into the
habit of eating those crusts because you're exceptionally normal.
Do it. Put some cheese and onion crisps into the fridge for 2-3 hours, take them out,
open that crisp slightly frozen crispy packet of crisps and give it a try.
Trust me, you might be pleasantly surprised.
Or you might not be. Because you're an average joe fuck.



'Why won't they all just leave me alone?'

he blurted, as he slammed the door to his centre for self; which was his bedroom. 
Until roughly an hour later when he slowly edged out that room for the attention he craved, as if it were food or oxygen.

Meditation in the Toilet


Meditation in the toilet of a venue in London 
Where the porcelain's spoilt on my cheek, it's abundant 
And my mind is at peace on the seat when it squeaks

The 'fuck you' that's scribbled on the wall is a comfort

The writing seems queer as it's etched on this wall
The old meaning queer, not the new; you glum fool
Where the smell of warm piss floats around like my thoughts 

But a blessing that's bliss is this piss, I am caught 

In the tranquil calm toilet of a venue in London
I should probably have a poo while I'm here


I couldn't believe the sight before me. A simple, seemingly symmetrical field that glowed golden and perspired in the morning sun. I got up early enough to see it, after the light thrum of the rain that previous night. Staring across a blanket of beautiful grass, it was hard to see anything else except delicate shards of photosynthesis.
Stuck to them were tiny, little specs of drips. Drips like constellations, as if the beauty of the universe could be simply laid out as a metaphor such as this. Each drip was a star, still and elevated in the mist that floated amongst the grass, reflecting the rays of an actual star, slowly rising over more fields sleeping on the horizon.
And no matter how long I looked. I still couldn't forget how weird anal is.

Let's All Go to the Festival!
'Let's all go to the festival!' the boy in the bucket hat said
'This fest is better than bestival, get ready to lose your head
There's pills and thrills and midnight chills
You'll fuck and suck and run out of luck
And wonder where that £100 just wandered off and went
This fest was nothing special at the start, a drink of red bull
When you queue for 8/9 hours, you devise a plan or schedule 
But the weekend laughs and goes real fast
A mindful flight, a social delight 
A key of tasty ket could touch the spot and it's a noseful
There's many different people, come from all across the land
Peeps so much as cretins fill their void-full minds first hand 
The band you like, their nowhere in sight 
This bump of coke, i'm sure it won't bite 
You should be fine but no more wine, and don't go towards the light
Cause real life is boring when it's laid out on a platter
A meth-head climbs scaffolding, I know I'd prefer the latter 
And Mary Jane, she gets me laid
But Mandy too, she wants abuse
These girls or chemicals at festivals, it doesn't matter
L is coming up but throwing down (and also up)
S is lost behind, oh please don't OD in a rut
D will smile and feel defiled, survive the night? He loves a trial

Glitter, clit and bliss like this exists, he won't grow up
'Let's all go to the festival!' the boy in the bucket hat said 
I wish his name was memorable, like Omar or like Fred
It's Connor or it's Jack but don't you quote me on that fact 
Although, I s'pose it doesn't matter cause the boy in the bucket hat’s dead

The Werewolf
Love or lust depends on dusk 
A dawn can lend a cuddle but
if moon is full, we’ll have to fuck

His Car Keys Are Gone
Material things are easy to lose 
A hungover journey, he’s battered and bruised
The train trip is long, his car keys are gone
Stained window views, with weather that’s wrong
He gazes across, and catches her eye
Her smile surprises, and shyness can’t lie 
They stare at the world that’s ran by with time
A sparked conversation that speeds up the ride
His mind often wanders, his hearts still in place
Her face shines, reflecting the trains hurried pace
It lights up the carriage which plucks up his courage
He ignores the rain and asks for a name
It comes to a halt, from laughter to hush
She floats past him softly and finger tips brush
It’s love at first sight, she leaves with a blush
But what does it matter, we’re all in a rush

What if David Attenborough did a deal with the animals? 
I’m serious, hear me out. (Or read me out, but not out loud. So it’d be reading me in. It doesn't matter.)
David Attenborough did a deal with the animals a few decades (or centuries ago), where the animals would prance, preen and galavant. From the big proud elephants to the tiny ants. And they’d do this for the cameras, and they’d do it for David. A simple transaction, how else do you think they get those fucking beautiful shots?
It’s basic science dude, the animals aren’t evolving and killing each other like that without a hidden agenda.
In return for this, David has set up cameras all over society disguised as ‘CCTV’, because we should all be on ‘high alert’ because 911 happened and it ‘wasn’t an inside job’. He films us, he narrates us, and the animals go back to their dens or their caves or their anemones and they watch us. A few Sunday nights every year or so. And it’s fascinating, they love it and it’s called Grey Planet. And David narrates us by describing us with animal sounds. All the animal sounds. That’s why he’s so old man, it’s taken so long.
The antelopes are watching like ‘yo, what will Steve do next, buy a latte? Ask Lucy to marry him? Have a mental breakdown because he was raised in a system of individualism and consumerism but no one is really individual or special and their all programmed to buy the next iPhone or the next pouch of baccy to feel better about themselves? Humans are amazing!’.
Pass me the grinder dude.

The Djentist
My dentist’s a DJ who hides from his family, I’m really not sure what to do
it’s behind their backs and he won’t touch my plaque as the denying dentist’s a ruse 
He sweats and he swears and he plays me his beats and he’s conscious ‘hey kid, are these shitty?’
I say that my tooth hurts and groan and then he blurts ‘I’ll play my remix of Rack City!
It pains me profusely that dentists so loosely can pretend they know what to do
I’ve asked ‘fill my cavity?’ more than two times and concluded he hasn’t a clue 
His families searching and putting up posters, they cried on the news to the public 
He said that he’ll find me and cut out my canines if I tell them all of this conflict
My dentists a DJ who’s beats are on replay when I’m sitting back in the chair 
2:30 it started, appointments aren’t fast and I’m bored of this vinyl despair 
He’s bald and he’s fat and he wears a snapback and his music is long in the tooth
His loved ones don’t know me and I want my safety so dude your sick tunes raise the roof!

What Joseph Gilgun Said to Me in a Dream, Whilst he was Committing Murder
“Life can be those Nice biscuits and sunshine, or it can be you, committing murder. The difference is within. You make that switch, mate”.

Sindbad, You Silly Sausage!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
Anti-insipid Sindbad sipped on his latte inquisitively, 
wandering whilst wondering about the world around him.
What did it all mean? Silly Sid the Sausage couldn’t quite believe it!
Semi-delicious and warm was the beverage Sid sipped on
as he pondered in wonderment, subsequently creasing his brow in confusion.
The skies were green. The fields were blue. And the secular systems that Silly Sid sought out really were too much for him to grasp mentally, let alone find.
But Sid sank those thoughts asunder and what did he conclude?
He would have to live in the secular system that was given to him, not the systems and ways of life he so sorely and surely wanted, but couldn’t find.
At this point he remembered he wasn’t even drinking a coffee. He was just fucked on acid. Sindbad, you Silly Sausage!

Little Ben & The Boy
Auntie Leia and Uncle Luke held young Ben Solo’s hands, as he rushed into the cinema on Coruscant. Little Ben chattered and jumped about smiling, he’d been excited about the new film all week. Little Ben wanted to be the boy in the film. The boy who lived at home with his struggling single mother.
In the film, the boy was obsessed with Star Wars. He didn’t have any friends but could return home after school to escape and dive into battle with his imaginary rebel pals and his toy lightsaber that required batteries.
Little Ben stared in awe, half way between smiling and finishing the small popcorn his uncle bought him. The film followed the boy growing up, nearly 20 thinking “what’s next?”. The boy had been bullied through secondary school, so learnt quickly to suppress publicly his love for the sci-fi cult classic, but quietly dreamt of studying film. He hoped he’d at least pass his A levels, and hoped they could get him to higher education. After all, rebellions are built on hope.
Little Ben couldn’t wait for the sequel to arrive and wanted to be the boy in the film. That night when he got home, he’d lay awake in bed thinking how tired he was. He was so tired of training with the Force everyday and ignoring the subconscious whispers calling him to the Dark Side. He didn’t want to struggle anymore. He, like the boy, just wanted to study film.

So Much
I love you so much. I’d give a whole life of empty loneliness just to spend a week with you. I love you, and you’re not here yet.

Scratch Cards!


Scratch cards! Get your scratch cards!

Dishing lovely little scraps of hope cards!

Do you have a tiny amount of money?

Would you like to have lots and lots of money?

We'll almost definitely probably give you lots and lots of money in exchange for your tiny amount of money!

Think of the potential golden rimmed jet skis and the credential enabling sex please

All you gotta do is belieeeeeve you fucking loser!



You are his little antidote

Who feeds him little anecdotes

An anti-septic lotion

That protects infected him

He's never had a reason

Even in the sunny seasons

To be happy or content

A waste of breath, a waste to live

He used to want to poison

All his insides, outward noise

Would often linger, poised and ready

To destroy potential him

But then he fell and tripped for her

And weirdly, it didn't hurt

A night that had a full moon

Fully lit her shimmering skin

You are his little antidote

Who puts him right to sleep although

He'd worry and he'd fret

He can't count sheep when he can't cope

He used to try imagine her

A friend who'd smother him with love

But now she's really there

And she's the one who gives him hope

Out of Order

This shit’s on hold till I finish my mixtape.
Something definitely rhymes with mixtape.

©2019 Dan Fresher.

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