Consume Capitalise Destroy

Too much of everything. More&more&more. Relentless.
Throw away & squander,
Shit drivelled hive minds: surfeit of Waste.

First MONEY, then POWER, then WOMEN
Fat Belly full of gold.
Come on//Give it to me//NOW!NOW!NOW!
Big zeroes my business: empty numbers my game.

The tea leaves have spoken.
The end is nigh. The END.
Broken gardens & acid tears,
A tomb for all life beneath red weeping skies.

© John Bowers 2017


Bad Poetry – Undeniable

Monumental metal sheets / twenty metres high / undeniable / they cast shadows across the impermanence of my face / and they cast aspersions as to your very being / your being there / and then your not being there / but those metal slabs are too imposing not to exist / to have not always existed / we laugh through our discomfort / existence is both ephemeral and as hard as steel


© John Bowers 2017

Ping | Pong

Ping | Pong

Sex on sale.
Limited time only.        Not tomorrow,

Ping | Pong

Now 》》》
The pimps have gone to bed /// zzzzz

Leave your seminal fluids
                     >>> in the glove box

This is a frenzy of minds

                     >>> these games we play
♡♡♡this is love♡♡♡

Ping | Pong


© John Bowers 2017

Art Notes – Genocides, Massacres and War Crimes are Bad, m’kay.


When I first saw the above photograph of Doris Salcedo’s artwork: Istanbul Project; I was like, “Wow, far out, dude. That is way cool.”

It shows a demolished space between two multi-story buildings packed full to the brim with a chaotic jumble of 1550-odd wooden chairs. The whole idea of literally stacking all those chairs on top of one another like that in a public space appeared to me to be such a cool and creative thing to do, and so bold and fascinating, too.

However, once I started to read more about the intentions behind the artwork, I was more like, “Whoa! I think I need to sit the fuck down”.

Continue reading “Art Notes – Genocides, Massacres and War Crimes are Bad, m’kay.”

Bad Poetry – Beneath the Neon Eye

The spilling over of garbage;
The blighted, malodorous decay,
Of decomposing apples and pears,
Of corrupted beans and carrots.
Like a garish still life, putrid and oozing,
Threatening to bleed across the canvas.

The disassemblage of scrap metal,
A rupture into fragments without purpose,
Human ingenuity sinking like sediment,
settling into a jigsaw puzzle of curious components,
Cryptic abstractions, perplexities and enigmas,
For future anthropologists to ponder.

A cacophony of flesh and machine,
And everything in between,
Piled high into a palimpsest of our lives,
Exposing our impulses and divulging our secrets,
As we huddle beneath the lurid neon light of


© John Bowers 2017

Bad Poetry – Gravity is an Indiscriminate Bitch

Your DNA, like nail clippings caught between my teeth,
A memento-mori of the inevitability of our decline,
The staccato glitch of the attenuation of our end,
Our ultimate omega and destruction, your terminal crime.

It was that touch, ever so soft and malignant,
The flesh of my cheek, your hateful transgression,
The heat and the burning, the agony of my denial,
An act of malfeasance, scorched earth a mile wide.

Destruction my insatiable fetish,
While asteroids ignite and disassemble,
Punching through the diaphanous tapestry;
of memory, of time, and of place.

Gravity is an indiscriminate bitch.

Author: John Bowers © 2017