Tuesday, 30 June 2009

What I do to you

I am the biggest prick you ever tasted
I am the biggest dick you ever hated
Staccato injections of my semen
You bleed all over my cock everytime
But there are no traces left of your hymen

I like my pleasure with a lot of pain
Suck my bruise
Lick my scars
The only way I feel like a woman is when you bite and suck and penetrate
Deep and
I look into your eyes
And everytime my mind feels nothing

I like this feeling.
This feeling of raw raped sex
I will discard you not even by morning but as soon as I have climaxed.
I will turn on my side
And then I am done with you

You have never mistreated me
But I ache to do this to you.
To make you feel used and small and useless
To make you wonder whether I want you
Whether I really am attracted to you.
I want to make you feel worthless
Have I?
Yes I have.
So stop trying to come back for more.

Monday, 29 June 2009


'Once upon a time' he said, 'You were able to catch Fame off guard, take a photograph of the person and not the image. Now the image is all they're willing to give. Everyone is ''On'' if there's a camera nearby.'

Sunday, 28 June 2009

The lost art of honesty

I think that honesty is a lost art and lost in art.

I realise in my late 20's that I'm not very good at being honest. Honest about who I am, who I love and who I lust, what I want to do, how I act in front of others, the list goes on. Also honestly about what I am not. It's strange that I'm asking myself these questions again, I really thought I had dealt with these issues.

This is the type of honesty that makes you say something truthful to someone however awkward it may be. It's what you feel in your gut to be true, but it's easier to ignore. I don't think this honesty is something we learn at school or even at home, it's not encouraged by society or the media either. It's easier to appease people and convince yourself you want something even if it's not making you happy.

I'm certainly not saying that you should wonder up to any person at any time and say what ever the hell you feel. This type of honesty has to come from a place of love and respect, but you get my drift...

So with this realisation - if art is a reflection of who I am and what I think about the world - then how can I create something that's genuine, something truthful that you relate to if I am not a very honest person with myself or the people around me?

Saturday, 27 June 2009

The Art of Weightlessness

Up there! Amongst the showlights
A suspended blur crawling on knees
A gruesome creature
With a deathly red stare
And a frozen white grin
Tinged green with greed it feeds on
Consumerism and lies.
repeating ‘You do not exist without buying this’

Happiness is this world
With artificial sunshine, motionless peers
Painted faces baring undernourished limbs
Synthetic hair and acrylic claws.
The clothes make the Man but the Man made clothes.
Who made the Man? And what on earth for?
Constant scrutiny keeps me in check
Your tailored to perfection the mirrors reassures.
The name on the badge doesnt make sense anymore

That it sees everything but nobody sees it
But me.
Because I am It.
And It scorns my need to validate that greed
Snorting with laughter, rolling around with glee.

Before I depart I separate the two
And leave that creature, crawling on knees
Suspended from the ceiling, feeding.
And I am guilt free and Off duty.

T.V.S.J 2nd

Thursday, 25 June 2009


They look at me they do. I know they do but it means nothing. It's the 30 minutes of attention I get every day. It's the feeling of pudding without the custard, sweets that have fallen to the bottom of your handbag without any wrappers on. A feeling of disappointment and frustration but nothing will change it because it has already happened. It was fate, meant to be and all that. What can you do about it? Absolutely nothing.

I have lived and walked on these streets for 77 years. They all know me, they do. Some by name, some by my nature. Many stop, stare and giggle. Some approach me menacingly but I don't budge for anyone. This crazy little lady won't give up easily especially after everything I have been through. When push comes to shove, I will shove.

When you are elderly and have little money as the state pension and your late husband's pension provide you pittance, life is awfully hard. I refuse to go to a home and for the past 15 years I have lived in various squats around east London, and at the moment I reside in one on Commercial Road. I used to be an artist and a part-time teacher but now my hands are tired and old and I don't have the stamina I used to. I have very few belongings and the most important ones - a Tolkein book that belonged to my late husband, a fistful of dog eared photographs and some money, I keep in the pram. The pram never leaves my side, no sir. The pram keeps me alive. Pushing it around and up and down keeps my strength up every day. I don't rely on it to walk but I do rely on it for some company and energy.

People don't seem to like it, particularly the young women with children. They have a mix of pity and anger in their eyes when they see it. Why does she have a pram? Is there a child in there? She can barely walk herself let alone look after a child! Where are its parents? Oh no, look! She has some crumpled Tesco bags in there. What a poor, poor woman - she doesn't even realise she's pushing a pram and how peculiar she looks!

If you knew me you would know, that one time more than anything, I wanted to push this pram with my own child inside. A little boy or girl, I don't mind and I would have loved both with my entire heart. I would have loved to have made my son or daughter a crocheted hat, knitted booties and a fine, woollen scarf. My tiny pride of joy would sit in their throne and I would wheel them slowly whilst pointing out the sights and sounds of our London. If you knew me you would know, that my late husband was the only love of my life, the only one who loved me back just as much and you would know that we talked constantly about our future little ones and what they were called and where we would raise them and where we would take them for their first holiday.

If you knew me then you would know, that my beloved was stolen from me when he was so young and so handsome and so full of love. I never recovered from that loss and I never recovered from his love. If you knew me then you would know, that I could not go on to have little ones with anyone else when I constantly know that the only father for them is already 6 feet under. But you don't know me so you will never know and I will continue to be the mad old woman who pushes the pram with tears in her eyes.


Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Google on love

About two months ago I broke up with my boyfriend. We were good friends before we got together so we are attempting a friendship again - by email to begin with. When I opened his email today the following ads were running down the side of my gmail account...

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How to Overcome Insecurity and Low Self Esteem.

Controlling Spouse
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Myself and my accomplice Dolores La Valley will be spinning the best coldwave/minimal synth/industrial/italo disco at Reeperbahn (Rivington Place, Shoreditch) on Friday night.
Its free entry and this will be our premiere outing together as "Massacro Favoloso".
So get on your glad rags and come and do some fucking dancing as its time for the sublime!




Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Iphegenia at Aulis; The Siege.

The Little Flower Congregation

Playlist by Jungs & Technik

My Top 10

Crash Course In Science - Factory Forehead

Eric Random - 23 Skidoo

Suspect - Baracuda Automatic

Abwaerts - Japan

Die Radierer - Angriff aufs Schlaraffenland

Palais Schaumburg - Gluecklich

Solid Space - Tenth Planet

The Fall - any

Ghost Voo - Untitled

Front - Georg

Mario Siebert



Monday, 22 June 2009

53 Rhydypenau Road

This is the house I grew up in for about 5 years in Cardiff. My primary school was next door but one away and I have very happy memories of this house, the garden and my family.

I don't dream very often at all however when I do, my dreams always centre around this house...magical dreams, dreadful nightmares...I can never get away from it.

I wonder who lives there now.


Welcome to The Quiet Riots

6pm on a grey but humid Monday. What do you do?

Instead of turning to the usual mind-numbing intoxicants, it's time to wake up and gather people round. Gather those who you feel have so much to say and share but lack of time, confidence, energy, inspiration pushes us all away from each other.

That is why I have decided to set up The Quiet Riots. It is a community forum and magazine for anyone who wishes to be involved. The blog username and password will be given out in trust and in turn, people are free to write anonymously or publicly - and share anything they want - photographs, words, music, rants, loves, hates.

After a little while, I will publish this blog in magazine format and will host a Quiet Riots night where contributors and readers are welcome to come along for a little party.

There are so many talented people I know out there - hopefully this will be a quick and easy way in which to unite them all...across seas and lands....we can all share thoughts and keep creativity alive despite where we are in the world!