Sean Bonney

the “commons”

the “commons”

The cuckoo is a
- BANG -
he was a big freak:
weirds have wrappt his
hail & gunnery,
his pronouns & his minds:
watching some documentary
scales, words stalked them,
warbled as they -
equated money with intelligence,
used the word ‘reverie’
clean as a dipped saint -
I don’t eat that bread /
yesterday I was still dead.
My character was taken
was not yours, who
secretly my small thighs
& the british anarchist movement
stayed indoors:
halt, magnetic sea
& shun mad company.
halt, intelligence
I got my goose shoes on
& talk eclipse, the town is stupid
love fool love,
or we could brick their windows
the aged parents broken,
exposed to annoyance & danger

Back when I was still cruel -
OK, say that again
this time with malevolent roses,
some specks of lords, some
totally harmless character:
the town’s last cinema is broken,
& the rest were maimed & slain.
OK, say the word brain,
this time with malevolent roses
mumbled as in a ‘reverie’
like lingerie & a clean blade
OK, do that again
we got from London what we needed
slaughter the fascist BNP.
O bitter magnet, we shine
inside the most vivid colours
-archaic pop reference here -
but my methods are scholarly
like many a gallant gentleman
I lay gasping on the ground
magnetic & flashing
as any wild-wood swine
we spoke with hail but
my methods -
most fertile yuppie scum”
my methods are -
I seem to have anarchic tendencies
but I hang around with Trots.

O bitter mag -
what her lawyer called a brain snap
was a naked man, was cruel
after suffering: you can’t have
your eyes / ran trickling
although she is your wedded
weird -
I bet he did I bet he
ran trickling down his knee, by fire
I bet he fell down those
warbled thighs -
you cannot have her eyes -
the final host of the murdered soul
obviously they read books in hell:
they are passionate and scared,
intersected at bitter angles /
the british anarchist movement,
its scales & documents
splintered under a false full moon
embroidered over with burning gold
we don’t know who they are
intersected at oblique angles,
the power to hurt, for example
splat -
in London town where they did dwell.

anyway, eclipse, as I was saying
with my small brain broken
inside the most vivid moments
with hail scales and etc -
yuppie characters -
slaughter the suffering moon
or watch some documentaries
flashing like zombies
or intelligence
inside our rumoured eyes -
oh pity / aged anarchists are scared
but obviously this reverie, intersected
the police system of knowledge
gargled with gold.
I bet she did I bet she
got up & performed his ambitions
my malevolent shine
gonna build me a log cabin
night of the living dead
jokes about gordon brown
something called the english democrats
on fire:
she would beat them to ashes
with a ring of teeth
& roses -
say cuckoo -
got up this morning
performed my alienations

Meanwhile, in the fast world of banking
they are thinking in blocks of sound
blank ones
reduced to little knots
of hair & teeth
we were speaking
like any gasping swine,
the still full moon
his character
splintered under a london town
that didn’t become power:
I, trickling down her ‘reverie’
of impending cash doom
& how to eat brains.
History is irrelevent with
- archaic credit reference here -
the sun has been disconnected
& we, with our downturned mouths
are maidens,
our credit ratings threaded with flowers.
& we are bleating,
& we are fucking immense
shrieking with gibes & curses -
history, too, is a sort of zombie
swallowed by insatiate fiends
packed in every domestic second
forgetting to pay the bills.

The cuckoo is
these moments of sobriety
icy fierce spikes
through the centre
the burning hedonistic disks
our lives are
intersected by police brains
joined in flat orgiastic
newspaper headlines
this is hideous
to regret all knowledge
this tongue of seething rust
to be born a thousand years ago
stupid as a seagull or a sky
O enchanting metonyms
you don’t know what you’re getting into:
anyway, it cancelled my passport
& I just took some, yeh, whatever -
ok, say it again
o enchanting ring of coins
inside every nation’s sobriety
slaughter / credit / passion
& bleating knots of
ring a ring of
go out to buy records
give up all this english blood
trapped in such a mindful stillness


Hiding inside our anarchists
and as scared -
saleable glimpses of
dying in 1993,
in acrylic zombie flip:
he had rented it all back,
& was wrecked,
stranded outside his favourite laws,
free as seas or
unbounded hail
as a spore left inside the language,
not a code made of letters,
but social utterance flaming,
everything was wrong but it happened.
Such thinking forgets
vast territories of our
sected selves:
all is ours”,
the police power to hurt
& how to eat in hell
where my wits were lost
in splintered oblique english
secured the preternatural rain
grazed upon our
seriously, trickling down our
with malevolent archaic sound
my bag a long knife carries.

Unaroused by official culture
history has been stashed
below a system of false brains
reduced to his ambitions
- democratic -
gold, falling
inside there are flowers
& we are bleeding
with intelligence & gunnery -
weirds have warped us,
his pronouns & his freak,
we are silent within
his good clean mind -
night of the ludicrous fink.
Oh fucking cosmology -
oh mad spit -
the ‘reverie’ is a
stop, oppressive line
is this is that”
like a mystical shudder?
yeh, that’s hideous.
anyway, false, as I was saying
was watching my character
was yours,
became a clear system,
an impotent closure,
not saying anything in particular,
just sick, just everything.

Just lick (oh, please -
inside the most vivid
words had wrecked them
& their stunned town
- favourite epoch here -
ate its fabled sticks
& starved -
- would flash just like a -
- insert enemy here -
would flash just like a
 - please -
meanwhile, what were you saying?
just, like,detourne yourself
(stuffed with walls, insects & teeth
But I was taken with stillness
& malevolent lords
would eat the living hail
back when I was still blood
intersected by police democrats
were threaded with hell
but I was still coins
like any stupid cuckoo blade
the baser & poorer sort
such whose lives were burdensome”
but I, for example
was quite simply scared
but anyway, inside this language

there is no word for sky