A..D r u n k..M a n..l o o k s..a t..t h e..T h i s t l e..H o t e l




Oresmelterd helterswelter I have come
all whirling slowly like a shredderful of circulars
( these seeming random movements merely slowd
the genius of an overall perfection lost in scale )

& brandishing identity a rod & preaching to the wind
o great hotel I daub my colours on the wall of you
a roister's digest flowing mouthward from the nilesource
thru a nation born to fiddle while I burning roam

all belladonnad puckd & primrosed
straying lamppostwise from last to next
imbibing the fruit of the vine as is my wont
who sally whithernither all exult

& dally lovely in the sight of sky
throughout these streets which are mine own
while cast before me cowering & puniform
the powerd in their powerhouses quinge

my hair rakes the storm
my face batters the wind
I see the crushd ones now
surprise the falling building from beneath

my shoulders wear away the rain
my wound devours the arrow's head
yes even as yr armies fall on me
my blood marks out its territory on the sword

oh foreign land of mine I name thee now
beneath the centrebeam of the symmetric sky
fixd fast amid the sea of lands & seas
which rounds between the guiding polar stars

Britannia shielded speard accoutred to yr glory
steadfast foursquare rectalinear all things accounting
land of lands land fit for heroes, pit bulls
Isle of Dogs, Britannia, mother

aye & as for you old paternoster, fathernutter
fartermutter founded on yr fundament
miraculous with all the wine of wrath
three-hundred-&-sixty degrees Calvin

ejaculous with new obscenities throughout
the womblike dark, the flooded trench
electra's bed of beds upon the depth
- an artefact, a mask - oh aye a vision, you

but in the ermine of its socket purpure
still this outer eye slurs tinted rose & regal round me
what is this a world
in grasp & grapple with the angel of decay

ahh tempus fuxit rightenough
yet under any suchlike transformation
there remains a single constant point

& bellowing like righteousness I round

as the drum beats the drumstick
as the fiddle scrapes the bow
as the prisoner's face shines radiant
beneath interrogation's lamp

I sing - I shatter lookingglasses
on their walls - both lookingglasses
& the glasses looking, shattering
like operaglasses at my opera

my red back flays the lash
my hands & feet incarcerate the driven nail
my head impales the thorny crown
the spear is drownd in my side

the sleepless eye traps Harolde's arrow
& the witchwheel strappd to me & spun until it cracks

for every broken thing is using its destroyer as a means to transformation
every dead thing is a living principle of transformation

yes yr bill will go unpaid o great hotel
the steak uneaten in the steakhouse
& the stake now burnt at me
that hackd the first initial in the coal of fissure's tree

the boild egg cracks & flights out birds
the eaten oyster grows the pearl within the stomach's shell
& to this inner ear bright carillons of ringers all appear - a peal -
ah how their tongues vibrate them









video screen showing only noise
gordon kennedy : a drunk man looks at the thistle hotel gordon kennedy : the conjure box gordon kennedy : my lips laid cold gordon kennedy : the face of things
gordon kennedy : myself gordon kennedy : inspiration gordon kennedy : northman gordon kennedy : hillside stream

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