The Box

Sweat poring down the walls,

knuckles dragging scrapping floors,

bounded by authority,

a higher voice speaks,

bleak and without evident direction,

a lucid side-effect of a conformist erection,

caged like animals,

once liberated,

now defined,

subsequently paid and unquestioned my the majority.

Jonathan Barnbrook: New Year's Greeting

Typography by Barnbrook Design, 2008

Punk is everything, Punk is dead

A hub of endless possibilities,

unbounded enthused by free liberty's,

or a creation of a reaction,

either way its 30 years post,

and Punk is merely a fluttering ghost.

XXXX

Let's all point and laugh at that man,

a one one armed character,

clenching a XXXX can,

an orthodox,

he pounds the streets aimlessly,

full as a sweed,

a man once consumed by greed,

he is a victim and a consequence of the times.

The Caribbean

Cold turkey lying on the shelf,
all alone and by itself,
with no friends and no head,
it dreams all day of a warm tray bed,
with no tits of its own to freeze,
devoid of life,
longing for the day the oven makes it its wife,
and the stuffing it's fiddling,
playful uncle,

WINK,
WINK.

The Fingerpops

Back on the 18th of December the Fingerpops (me and keyboard guru Bob McGowan) were the warm up act for the band Sunday International. The gig went down a storm, a good laugh with lots of alcoholic beverage's. We hope to do it again.

The Right Kind of Wrong

An exhibition by graphic artist Anthony Burrill and product/furniture designer Michael Marriot at ad agency Mother (London)