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Nick Hudson

Discarnation 13
(Dedicated to Robert Newman)
















1) The Under Boys
2) Revolution No. ∞
3) Bread and Wine
4) TeaseTortureKill 2006 Mix
5) Brother To An Only Child
6) The Void
7) Uh-Oh
8) Renegade Waves
9) Under The Mill
10) Pleasant Street

All incantations prescribed, manifested and guided by Nick Hudson at The Phoenix Dairy between July and September 2006 using a guitar, a voice, a glockenspiel, another guitar, more voices, some whistling, windchimes, a virtual box of rotting circuitry etc… Except for track 10, written by Tim Buckley.

Track 3 dedicated with boundless love to Mae Fortune (RIP)

Track 10 dedicated to Dennis

Dedicated to Robert Newman

Thanks to Alex, Diarmuid, Joe, Dennis, Scott and Jamie.

To obtain this music please e-mail me at the address below:

hudsonjnick@yahoo.co.uk

Nick.
x∞x

Revolution No.oo

Tearing maps into confetti feathers;
Smashing clocks to crystal cripples.
Tackle spacetime to it’s
Little uncoordinated knees.
Paint the chessboard perma-black or
Perma-white as you please.

Revolution should be fun
And cast in coloured fur
Or so I humbly feel.
Revolution should be fun
And when the new world comes
We’ll be too drugged to care.

Revolt disguised as meek wee pageant
With tombola and the pretty girls.
Insurrections dressed as village fete
Or a carnival parade.
A thing as irreconcilable as this
Demands a fresh linguistic kick:
A new vocabulary.

Revolution should be fun
New world disorder
Begun by marching bears.
Revolution should be fun.
Corrupt the young
By sex and drugs
And drugs and sex.

Revolution should be fun.
Linear time is so last year, y’hear?
Revolution should be fun.
Deride the bomb, disown your land.
Decide you’re free.
Don’t wait to be told,
Especially by me.
Become the green man.
Go free while you can.

xoox

Stupid/Cupid

So when did fist ever rhyme with kiss?
I tried so desperately not to eroticise
A bruise like a valentine's card heart
Or an xoxo at the base of a text.

Something in the way you
Administer those scratches,
Bites and murky, marbled
Blue vistas across my arms.

Something in the way you
Want to get as close as possible
Without actually shunting my colon
With your defiantly straight cock.

Something in the way your
Phlegm and my blood cocktail,
Transubstantiate into this
Covert, desolate alchemy.

Something in the way of
Me buying my freedom from
Your twisted embellishments.
Something, or me, cloaked.

So kiss never rhymed with fist,
I'm so desperately tired of
Their mingling in a certain light.
I'm outta here, guess who, xoxo.

Saturday, 5am, Sand and Savages

Frame by Frame
You deposit grubby pearls
In my mouth, shoulders
Ground to shingle by
Acid bath knees.

The remotest kiss,
Lips linked by a
Flute of ochre thick shit,
I'm a fluid urn
Under your haemhorrageing weight.

Where the arousal of denial
Meets the epiphany of provision,
We don't touch, do we?
Those lips have ringed
Cold steel and wealthy cocks.

I'm a loving void,
Not a client or a gun.
I'll channel your transfusion;
Drink you to my ruin,
And be grateful.

Right now, this beach
Could yield every hope's blossom
Please make the tattoos
Of your violence indelible,
Deeper, harder, more.

How could I not love you?

Dear Wayne, Love, R

"You have a girlfriend, Wayne?
That's really hot. I bet the affection you
Bestow on her is nowhere near as pure
I.e. violent, as that with which you indulge me.
I'm honoured, y'know? I feel like your canvas,
Like the cock you masturbate in privacy,
Away from the world and her needy, slobbery
Vacuum, the inimitable pleasure of onanism
And I'm, like, a fly, on your wall, or a VIP guest
To the theatrical debut of you at your most naked.
I'm honoured, y'know? I'm in love
With the way your dark, craggy wet hair,
Emits dewdrops on the draining skin of my
Chest as you grind your way to orgasm,
In a painter's frenzy. DaVinci carried his
Mona Lisa everywhere, forever. Is my smile
That enigmatic, or is it just 'What The Fuck?'
Whatever, will you carry me forever, everywhere?
Am I the first and best of a rising franchise?
You or me: Who exactly are you loving here?
Can't death be a reciprocal platform for love?
I'm honoured, y'know? That you picked me.
Like, over your generic, dumb, fat whore
Of a girlfriend. That I'm the only one you ever
Told, I mean, about your boy thing. I guess
Your killing me is classic gay self-loathing, right?
Whatever. You look hot in a suit at your trial.
I'm honoured, y'know. To be your suit for the
Evening. How could I top this, I'm thinking,
And you're thinking the same thing,
But you find a way, because you do,
And I'm not here anymore, or anywhere,
And that's the best gift ever. And for that,
You'll carry me with you everywhere, forever.
Your unfinished masterpiece, framed by a guilt
Only ever relieved, briefly, by cheap imitations.
I'm honoured, y'know?"

Blonde Spectrum

I got drunk and battered the shit out of the house and sloped into a playground and got talking to this eleven year old kid who said he used to masturbate over Ian Huntley as a kid is he going to hell.

I said yeah ok can I come with you I ripped the chain off a swing which was only tenuously attached by a threadbare rusted link and coiled it around him saying this'll keep you warm and the rush of hot metal against your flesh might prepare you for when you go to hell.

I coughed up a dank globule of phlegm into his cherubic Carusso moppet hair and kissed him on the forehead it felt like electric silk under my freshly-shaven chin I kissed him fully on the lips and asked him if I could fuck him he told me to go to hell.

I recognised a smirk within the complex illuminations of his face and interpreted this flirtatiously he squatted there wrapped in these chains as though within the the thick coiled embrace of a boa constrictor he said he wanted to try something new and asked if he could fuck me I said ok I'm so going to hell.

He told me to loosen the chains from his body asked me to lower my pants and lie on my stomach he whipped the chains back and brought them crashing down on my buttocks then laid on top of me crushed me with a tiny hug lowered his pants and began to fuck me with his small and engorged cock y'know my girlfriend can go to hell.

He playfully bashed my head into the ground a few times and dug his nails into my shoulders as he fucked me I recognised the power inversion drifting as tangibly as stifling summer heat in his favour he ripped my T-shirt apart and a film of sweat pooled between our skins he buried his face in the back of my head sank his teeth into my left shoulder then as he came into my ass he yelled mom and dad motherfuckers go to hell.

He rolled me onto my back and climbed on top of me squeezing my legs between his and told me he loved me then he lunged at my face as though for pearls and wove my tongue into his constricting me with his legs and whispered repeatedly between kisses is this how you go to hell.

He told me he'd been jealous of Holly and Jessica and why couldn't he be a girl and that now he'd found me he had his own girl so we segued into sleep and into the last trickle of his conscious mind I breathed I love you that's the best way we can go to hell.

Paris, September, Anti-Sarkozy March

The Void

The Moon won’t rise.
Before cold eyes
Abortive suns capsize.

The blistered skies,
Awash with flies
Exist to terrorise

Those before the gate
And save those who contemplate
The void within without.

The space within
Where angels win
And thoughts fold out like tin;

The spectred night
And blinding light
Are every human’s right.

And those beyond the gate
Are those who mediate
The void within without.

An empty stage.
A young boy’s rage
Gestates and bloodies pages.

Internal zone;
A mobile home.
Nobody dies alone.

And those beyond the gate
Have chosen to palpate
The void within without.

And those beyond the gate
Elected to mutate;
Have learnt to celebrate
The void within without.

Nick Hudson