Mental Contagion – Exquisite Corpse pt.1

[Blogpost by Rachel]

In which Inky go on an away day in a flat in Edinburgh, eat pitta bread and Pringles, plot to take over the world, and play exquisite corpse.



A Teacup Of Afternoon

The mirror gleamed and rippled, and a cat stepped out.

It stopped, puzzled, as it cast no reflection.

On the midday water of your bliss

The old hillbillies play bango, spit sweet and dark,

As it oozed through the night and met her ears.

It oozed like treacle tea, and tasted like toffee buns

If toffee buns were more like mud and

Burning coals were nose-cake.


The Existential Junky

The banknotes in our pockets have always been creased.

And very few come through that have not been rimmed with cocaine

And all agree that margaritas were better with salt

Except the salt, who loathed alcohol, especially when it tasted like fruit

Sticky-sweet, muddy-wet, fruity-bitter

Dirt-lark, grass-spark, fence-pole-sitter

With seeds scattered at your feet and a sprinkling of glitter

Like the spark of evil in David’s eye.


The Congress of Apes

And the chimpanzees took off their top hats and howled

To the moon about the bars which trapped them.

The moon simply whined. Obnoxious moon!

That bourgeois smile and those

Late industrial dimples, post capitalist nose

On an anarchist face with a socialist rose in its buttonhole.

But a giant capitalist bee sucked and sucked at the rose

And the rose got horny, and the sun still shone.


The Tramp & The Polar Bear

You ravaged my head like a polar bear

Finding her way through extinction

Lumbering like  a tragedy, falling down

Like the old drunk whose beard was made of stubble and spittle.

He wandered the land, poking shrubs and yelling at lowflying bugs

‘You FREELOADERS!’ he’d yell at the mosquitos and

Throw shoes ineffectually till the sun went down

And fell into bed like the soles hitting the horizon.