Bugolgi Apparatus

  Pocket Armageddon  don’t have to add it up  don’t need a photo or a map  you know it’s wrong  and that’s really that   how it sits with you drinks your coffee; eats your bread  entertaining you all day long  taking you to bed  spending the bread  giving in to the moment  you like being fed  while others take the torment  a day will come  a pocket armageddon  suddenly you start  thinking about religion  all your calculations  drive that  accountant  to resignation  because  it’s all wrong  why didn’t you  listen to your mom

my dearest   enemy you know I’ve always   given everything   even when you weren’t   watching me   I felt you with me   mocking me   through failure to failure   I was happy even then   knowing I was giving comfort   to you how that must’ve felt   exotic your hatred of me   became something else   in your happiness   and powerlessness   although we’ll never meet   it gives me pleasure to know you’ll be hurting every time I succeed   I feel myself satisfied   realizing you’ll always be beaten   by disappointments pride and envy   it’s too late to change   many things   but you don’t need to   forgive me   because you   live through me,   my dearest   enemy  

  Click here

  a mother of three  a child in need  group of masked teens  sentient vegetable beings  man with a wooden hand  two sisters in Islamabad  teachers on sabbatical  whores on a bicycle  frozen boxes of fish  three covens of witches  a tired driver in braces  you with your sense of grace

Why would I think to move   or even leave   it’s warm in here I’ve got   so much more to read   I’ve tried outside   it doesn’t bring   the view   I get from this seat   people are quiet here and my only fear   is someone taking   what I need   when I’m hungry   I look up a recipe   when I’m lonely   I take a biography   I feel happy   with photography   and philosophy brings   me relief   at night my mind grows a garden   and I wake up with the knowledge   while my ignorance   is still talking in its sleep I dress with anticipation that I’ll once again   feel that sensation   between warm sheets of paper and ink  

 Some live songs:  Click Me

  Turban Renewal   when the sun refuses to shine   and the land starts to decline   people put up a cry   the king, the king must die   young, handsome, and strong   fought everyone to the top   took a bride on the first of March   people celebrated all month long   long as crops grew in the fields   enemies knew the deal   there was peace; hope to be seen   in nights of the people’s dreams   after wizard’s been   hung and quartered   and court’s been   replaced with orders   he’s got a fortnight   to turn things around   before people burn   the palace to the ground