I am Become a Man / A God I am Not [title edit]

I am an old God that died,
I am become a man -
I have exist by powers alone,
The long-running fire burns silver dot -
An eye that winks that hardly exists,
I am a man a god I am not.

poem 13/9 no.2 - expeimental writing

Drink take pill
Political leaders
Sweet girls; Son of Man,
O let me burst
Your last legs?
Series of mechanisms:
“invention” (JFK, Khrushchev) –
Apparatus of production;
Devour our young,
Is there space in the space you
Space in having travelled quite a bit,
Never bring the dawn,
Face like biscuit
Burning fiercely
“it was really him that hailed” -


[Having looked at parts of JG Ballard's Short Stories vol. 2, Literary Theory: An Anthology Rivkin Ryan, Ted Berrigan's Sonnets, and maybe Apollinaire.]

*This poem was written fairly quickly using a sort of cut-up technique and appears as I first wrote it. I thought of using Berrigan's technique in his Sonnets, which I have. However, I didn't collect lines, I just glanced over random lines in books and used them. Turned into a nice little piece of experimental writing.

A little more work on that, and it would be a good piece of language.

** Also, the 'space in the space' line comes from Berrigan's line of 'Is there room in the room you room in.'

poem 13/9

Reflecting suns grow old now
Facing South days done:
I know I am dead already –
The dog at my knees,
His fur like thatched straw;

The Black Hole lets in no light,
King and prince dead in palace –
Murder by night,
The judge longs for peace –
His friends are burning on the wicker;

I am not dying young
Man is not here woman
Gone home, it is now night –

In daylight quiet bliss
Distracts death from entering –

Blog - MA - Writing - Mathew Street

Death is gone
Like a million rhinocerous
On the roof.


Have been neglecting my blog. I forget to write on it, and i forget to write on paper with having other things to do and other troubles. I tried to write but couldn't think of anything. I become conscious of my style. What is it?

I don't know if I'm better at writing poems or fiction. I used to get better marks for my fiction in uni, but it's easier to write poems. And poems are pointless.

Start uni again soon. Doing a Master of Arts in Writng. Thinking about moving out in the next few months. Planning a trip with my friend similar to 'Fear and Loathing' but in Europe. I've known him for almost 13 years. We're like brothers. He studied law and works for a law firm, and is just like me in that he hates where he is in life and just wants to get drunk. He said we're just in a rut. Need a place to live with 2 or 3 other people. inc. him.

Have arguements at home all the time. Almost got kicked out.

Is it possible to practise writing, guitar and oil painting in a day? There aren't enough hours. I have a canvas I've had for ages and don't know what to paint.

Went to Mathew Street Festival. (That's the street where the Cavern Club is, where the Beatles started off). I love Liverpool and our music history. Saw Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan tributes. Went to Cavern Pub (not the club) and saw John Lennon look-alike and some great music. I'm listening to The Bealtes now.


Mathew Street


Wall outside Cavern, each brick is the name of a band or musician that has played inside. Inc. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones...

Small Poem/Haiku Attempt

Sleep she thinks
Hairs grow on my face
Protective eyes are dark

Green like jealous frogs,
Toads stealing the waters
When lake empties.