Revenge of the Smur

from Mantis Shaped & Worrying by fiffdimension



Eyes wide in a cutlass of revenge, tying down avenue. The wide of the mouth in error. Deny to defy to deify. Walking eye backpacks stroll along like in computer game. I sigh related in juice upon cufflink segregated; eyes open through floor. A trapdoor in ceiling, for to climb out of like simpering puppies. They want to go now.

Eat this hippies: the past is tilted out through the sky over beautiful harbour. Banality, a virus plague, fly through the air. Heigh ho, heigh ho, a hobby horse, this.

Deception. A shyness. The swirling in storm alight with ghosts. The dead are a record.

A packet of soup tumbles into the void. Tick tock tick tock. Awakening. A metaphor shines.

Elvis shakes his hips so hard he is physically thrown out of the room by the force of the blast! Smile. The eye is a comedy. Girl vending machines installed in casinos & bars. Pop goes the tyre. Geometric patterns in forests wave. The mouth opens like theatre curtains. We all become cartoons - merrily throw up. I hesitate. We have a screw. Dinner soon - (series of sexual images follow) - 'That was nice, thanks - can I go now?'

Cold out in the smooth milkshake of life. Satire the extra cherry, with an ant crawling up the side. A grown man cries. He is sad for the trees & the unplanned metal wind. Metal quicksilver.

Dimensional snakeskin shedding - a furtive glance, we peel back each layer & watch the flashiness bleed - shaking off another layer of dimensions allows some light to come in. The world is a teardrop in a puddle, in which a garden gnome is fishing in his shed. This has already been proven by scientists but they won't admit it.

Puff-pastry villainous face looms. Stimulus sickness. Success? Success? Only in a crinkle corner fold. 'Your table is waiting, this way please sir'.

The office is a restaurant, & vice versa - the desk a table, the typewriter a meal. A hedgehog screams in protest, & builds an empire for the purpose of revenge. Fear remains, feasting on the dead carcass of state.

Shot full of needles, fishing hooks hang off their noses. Still delaying. They don't scream at you if you're an artist - waste of spit. This is only a camouflage; the real truth is hidden in inversion. Anything can be a metaphor for cosmic truth.

Lately time is being redirected - come on it. The decline of western civilisation - & there's a hard centre to this, beyond fuzzy grey humour - & then the revelation: it is a wheel.

I try to work my way around the block; a mental cancer - I see the heart of darkness! A black pebble, a pupil at the heart of the wheel - a black well, a pool into which to dip bucket.

The wet tongue is rolling in the mouth of the whale; a river of slop. I'll feel terrible tomorrow. Something touches in the corner of my memory - an itching tone, a shyness to eat. Smothering smiles flop over into roll... apocalypse of bacon!


from Mantis Shaped & Worrying, released June 22, 2002
Dave Black - electric guitars, bass, vocal
Simon O'Rorke - percussion




fiffdimension New Zealand

Outsider alternative sounds from Aotearoa and beyond

Projects may include acoustic songs, spoken word, distorted postpunk, free jazz, noise, Indonesian gamelan, lo fi electronica, Eurasian folk music, 19th century ballads, video installations, or all or none of these. ... more

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