CATTRAINFEET BRAIN

ISSUE EIGHT - AUGUST 2010

Written and illustrated by Corey Biscoe-Marwick

INTRODUCTION
Hello readers,
and a huge thank you for your time and appreciation, via email
and so on. This month was odd, for a whole half of it I was
basically a free agent, no responsibility to anyone but myself
and I discovered that when left to my own devices I gravitate
towards making music. Hence some of the pages in this book
weren't written or drawn on the dates they're marked with but
a few, ( I think ten in total), days afterwards in a big catch up
session. Some of the drawings are also stolen from a story
board I'm working on which is so close to being finished it's
painful, (maybe I'll add it to next month's issue as another
bonus book, if the people I'm making it for aren't opposed to
that).

I was told I should add some music along with this issue but
after my freedom was gone my responsibilities were heavy
again and I haven't got around to making anything specifically
for you, my subscribers, but I'll try to do that this
month,(maybe enlisting the guy whose idea it was to help me),
and send you some music next time.

I hope life is treating you all like very important individuals

who never get crapped on by anyone or anything, health and
happiness to you all, you're all champions, (especially my wife).

If this is the first issue of Cat Train Feet Brain you’ve ever
received and you would like to subscribe to this free e-zine
then contact me at: clo5dimly@[Link] and let me know. I
can also send through back issues.

c Corey Biscoe-Marwick 2010, all rights reserved.

01/08/10
1-Illiterate Ghost.
Sunday is a mine field,
I haven't slept,
The time ticks past like slow burning acid,
Like water torture,
My aim is to expel the ghost,
But he never comes to school anyway.

2-Not Laughing.
Down ward spiral like,
Sideways motion,
It can't be safe to drive like this,
The opportunity to relate to other people in an instantaneous beautiful moment
of utter horror is holding the wheel,
And I am not laughing.
02/08/10
1-Sentient Crap.
Like a slug in a bottle of beer,
A man hungry and unwound like fishing line in a sewer,
No fish,
Only sentient crap,
Bubbling and mewing away.

2-Hate Me In Person.
Useless teacher,
Mediocre cook,
Lousy flea bitten mangy hound door scratching,
Let me back in love,
I want you to hate me in person.
03/08/10
1-Multi Dimensional.
Last night today,
Yesterday a month ago,
Ten years gone before,
What a waste of folded time,
One corner to another,
Multi dimensional talentless scum.

2-Blow Torch.
Tripping,
Scraping knees and brain matter exposed through a skull hole the size of a
Gideon's bible.

Flawed extraction,
Dull coloured pale powder shake,
Handy with a blow torch,
Useless with a pen.
04/08/10
1-Dying Dull Citizen.
Today finality is up in the air,
Like soggy onion dipped in coconut,
Smells like dead cats in a muddy yard,
Train carts exploding,
Dying dull citizen sits up in bed and says...

Get me a drink,
I want to be drunk when I go.

2-You Rock Guitar.

Chronic illness,
Panic flight,
Loose leaf midnight cheap bastard celery,
Airplane biscuit,
Eyes on the ocean.

You can break off the neck and back pack it marvellous,
People are saying it's better than joining a cult.
05/08/10
1-Bow Down To The Pips.
Moon shits are falling like lumps of brown dough,
Enormous and vanilla scented,
Sticky like mud.

The morning brings the children out to jumping on the houses,

Yellow jelly sun,
Purple synthetic jump suit pyjamas.

The cartoons are on,

But nobody's watching.

2-The Good Lord Shake Your Hand.

No hands for sinners,
Cut those nasty gropers off,
And stop your eyes with duct tape,
And stuff your mouth with carbon copy coloured iron dogs.

The good Lord shake your hand and tell you no,
I never meant to hurt you.
06/08/10
1-Stock Standard.
Standard stock,
A lot of nasty purple blood and bagpipes.

You seem a bit off colour,

Sepia toned scratchy faced mediocre midway champ,
Street fighting clean,
Even in a flashing cave with multi coloured rocks.

2-Saw & Sine.

Cut hair,
Blue hands,
The best sounding triangle in town.

Saw and sine,

Wave and tooth,
Loose that raging doll in the ragged womb.
07/08/10
1-Magnesium Butterflies.
There were magnesium butterflies,
New flood dumbness,
Tunnel vision,
Extraversion,
Put me in a paper boat.

There's no blue room in the holy house,

No brown chair,
No purple dog to boot.

2-Bits & Pieces.

Eyebrow stains,
From pressing your face on the wall,
From Sunday knees and binding,
Little bits and pieces.
08/08/10
1-6.30.
Early morning call,
He's gone,
It didn't take long enough,
A late plane,
A marching band in heavens easy streets will count the bits of finger nail you've
flung behind the couch.

So sorry,
Too many latent, blind and removable parts,
A falling dummy made from sack and straw.

2-No More Frogs.

Early access was a bald frame page and a lot of pale orange,
Not so many pictures,
No videos,

I joined a group of poets who had started up a public access page for free
association,
Collaboration and the creation of self published and therefore mostly incredibly
shit poetry,
(although there was this one guy who wrote about tiny witches flying HB pencils,
He was great),

I made a temporary friend,

We wrote together for a while,
Made something far more interesting,
And messy,
Less of the word love and more words like "Turnip",
And "Phallic gymnasium turd mobile",
And when I came back they'd renamed and cut me off,
Brick wall,
Fire wall,
No more frogs,
They'd cut me out,
And my friend was gone too.
09/08/10
1-Pegasus.
There was a shadow shaped like Pegasus,
With nothing horse or wing like to create it,
Invisible sky beast,
Not even an outline,
No bending of light.

The small observant pixie peeking upward and up,

Look,
He says,
We've got no choice,
And splat,
The pixie's gone.

2-Punk.
Fix me,
I'm broken faces and a little baby scream,
The last deserter storming off,
He seems a little pale and frantic.

The dessert corps has broken plenty of men,

Some seeming sturdy at first,
Have melted skin and sagging pin head eyes.

Don't come in,

Stay out you friggin' punk.
10/08/10
1-Guts & Mothers.
Doesn't need expansive knowledge,
No small steps,
Leaps and bounds and smash the crate,
Peel your brain a layer in,
Speak clear headed,
Molten face,
The kind to shake a fist and let it curl up in their body like a thorny little demon
pup,
Scratching guts and mothers.

2-Rag Time Organ.

There was a large and stinky thing that lived inside me,
Was projected from my left ear every night,
Seemed to lean over the bed,
Walls and ceiling,
Flickered like a black and white,
Old old men and ragged rag time organ.
11/08/10
1-American Honey.
Begin to understand,
And rock-falls,
Landslides,
The edges of cliffs breaking off and your home tumbling onto the beach,
Destroying an entire family,
Yellow sand picnic wedding,
Will be the result.

Forget you ever heard and love the dark,

Fill it full of neon blood and soak it in wild turkey.

2-Should Not Satisfy.

Standard fare won't ever do the trick,
You taste it solid,
Smell the sound,
You hear the awkward symphony of hallway meetings,
Hushed and filtered secrets,
Cupped hands,
And one straight line devouring every infantile desire cannot,
And should not satisfy.
12/08/10
1-Wrist Thick Rope.
Dot to dot the whole earth whale,
A sinking sail,
You see the ship is underneath,
And people skimming whalers pikes,
A wireless water creature,
Cut from wrist thick rope,
No puppeteer but God.

2-$7.00 Ham.
$7.00 ham,
A sandy sailor flimsy little flag-less man,
There are no red spot armies,
No aid workers scouring the gutters for sad little children.

Take a jug and make a man pitiful,

Give him a fish eye lens,
Too long sleeves and a gauge to measure madness.
13/08/10
1-Word To The Wise.
7 day retirement from;
Glue eyed ogglers post,
Strapped to the mast,
Masses of swirling ocean.

Word of the Lord she said,

Word to the wise.

2-Make Your Bed & Eat It Too.

If she moves in close that way,
Breathing her voice out,
Lulling your senses to vapid deliverance,
Run further,
Think faster than you ever have.

A grinding lawn mower crunching bone,

The lawn of death,
The casserole of pain.
14/08/10
1-Sliced.
Sliced manliness,
Beached whale regretful little dame with toe ring flattery,
She hoists her own battery on a sturdy barrow,
Wired into it always.

Floor tiles and roof tiles,

Patterned pregnancy,
The lost and the damned can see over the fence,
Where the grass is all black and the cars are on fire.

2-Cut The Rope.

More than only Bowie,
Surely,
Virtual museum now,
Is running on technology that's older than my son,
That weighs a hundred ton and flakes like moisture in the ceiling.

We can arrange the details for you,

All you have to do is cut the rope.
15/08/10
1-Runt.
Straight to the horse,
Who spits the water,
Straight to the scene,
A blind fish is humming,
Straight lines of urgent desire to cut,
Comfort is an animal,
Peace a little runt.

2-When To Stop Glowing.

Some people don't know when to stop glowing,
They swim in each other like greasy little fish,
They fight,
They cower at each other's golden statue stone bases with encrypted text,
They prey on the weakness of others with holy tales and 2 hour kisses.

There isn't a man in the world gives a shit about making his name,
If she'd only take his heart out with a knife.
16/08/10
1-Absolutely A Door.
God is a dwelling,
Is four foot thick walls,
And not a sound,
He is constructing himself between the walls of your cage,
Come in one and all he says,
Only to you.

God is not a doormat,

But he is absolutely a door.

2-Buckets.
Slow winding in,
There were buckets of blood and a vaporized demon imprinted in ash,
There were symbols like Hollywood horror,
Lame cast and money flung,
Death was reprehensible,
Police officers gathered at the two way mirror,
To point at his familiar parts and laugh.
17/08/10
1-Poor Taste.
How many hundreds he must disappoint,
Torn flag philosopher taking the stage with a brand new battle line,
With scarier twitched than a holy dog.

They will beat down the doors in a furious panic,

The innocent wives of evil man bastards,
Victims of poor taste.

2-Almost A Month Of Invisibility.

My wife has been invisible for nearly a month,
We speak in foreign symbols over lines that cross the earth and take our sleep in
tiny doses,
She will not be had,
Is too easily bored by even a whiff.
18/08/10
1-China.
Two days will bleach a hole into your head,
White light,
Stereo exploration,
Numark bold and Fender green,
The digitech solution is a cheap and fast delivery,
Chinese influenza in a US patent box.

I love China,
China can take us over all it likes.

2-Nasty Widow Appetite.

Great state,
The whiskered lady rolls around it carriage wheel and hides a million dollars in her
creepy demon teeth.

Smile brightly and sway like a song,

Come with me down a lane or three and watch how pigs can rot.
19/08/10
1-Wunderkind Wet Pants.
We need an android,
A dead man,
And a busted face with criminal eye lines,
Plasticine monster mash,
Sinbad anon.

Tell Murphy the wunderkind,

Life is worth living,
If only to show them they can't take advantage like that.

2-Run Your Line This Way.

Sleep deprived maniac man beast on steroids,
It hurts to breathe in,
Feels hollow to say that it hurts.

There were rock pools and deadly cliffs edge stray dog homeless carrier pigeons,
They nodded hello,
And he spoke like a gentleman,
Ready to run at the first sign of trouble.
20/08/10
1-Whore.
Time is a whore,
F#@% time.

2-Erased and Redrawn.

Early morning celebration,
Hands are clapping Jesus Christ,
Is loading up his truck with frozen meats and packet meals,
Has ventured from the solid path of unrelenting pain to be remade a sinners
doormat,
And returned unscathed,
Erased and redrawn,
Charcoal and blu-tac.
21/08/10
1-Powerful Arseholes.
Some solid facts are all poo brown and rusty little dog eared shoelace snake like
worms,
Will drape themselves over a chair and pretend to be harmless,
Then strangle your mother,
So she spills her hot coffee all over your son.

Some words mean more when they're spoken by powerful arseholes.

2-The Cross They Bear.

The most holy hands will not glow,
Will not never complain or be whole empty faced and pure fisted like Russian
propaganda.

The proletariat are not holy,

They're raw flesh and spirit yes,
But tied to tanks and giant guns,
And worshipping the cross they bear,
Instead of putting Jesus on it.
22/08/10
1-Blame & Bloody Secrets.
You want to worry the government body who has his best at heart,
And pinch our cheeks and drag us in the muddy field for gunning down,
Then f@#$in' do it,
Talk is so cheap you can buy six for one,
You could mail it to Africa 10cents a page and the government there would be
grateful.

Your woes are ridiculous,

A better life,
One holy hill that lives in sun and flowers and a daily supply,
And all we get is misery,
And blame and bloody secrets with their fingers in the pie.

2-The Flying Trapeze.

Stay alert,
The dirt encased prisoner will sacrifice himself for zero to one,
Will carry the cause whole and civil like a brainless dove in circus lights,
Like the sad clown painting in your aunties bathroom,
Staring into the empty bath.

Strings and numbers,

The flying trapeze.
23/08/10
1-Permanent Fixtures.
Spend your money wise,
Collate your permanent fixtures and pass a little on,
The dairy cows and talking fish,
The gloves you didn't need because you never took him up on that endeavour,
Sneaking in and out like secret mice,
The padlock and the block of holy cheese.

2-Slippery Hands.
20 percent remaining,
A slip in the mud,
My grandad said heaven was taught him from horses,
My sister said grandad's a bastard with slippery hands.
24/08/10
1-Murky Blood Spouting.
Secret service-men,
Hollow legs full of buck shot and flooded with murky blood spouting like
fountains.

Large obnoxious creature with a hollow head,

Topples back like yelling timber,
Two man saw,
And crunching ancient bones and branches burning.

2-Rose Petal Beds In The Morning.

Easy day,
Slow winding rope,
The scented whores are rose petal beds in the morning,
And death adder poison at night.

You are not allowed to board my train again.

m
25/08/10
1-Clobber Bill Mallet.
Stone wall,
Bricked up face like the son of Zog,
Gluey hair and a whole can of deodorant,
He looks like a poster boy who's still got his sheen.

Bill Mallet says clobber your wife and she'll leave you,
Go find yourself some other vapid lass,
Mrs Mallet says clobber Bill Mallet.

2-Another Poem Beginning With The Letter S.

So sleep in the daytime,
Shoot the neighbours happy dog and hang its tail on their mailbox,
Shoot the white lightning and down a dozen grave diggers,
Holly knows the back room smells like turpentine,
She makes it that way herself.
26/08/10
1-Keep Your Angry god At Home.
Your sound advice seems like gamey meat when I chuck it in my chomps and
chew,
The smell of it spat up on my plate,
A lumpy mushy rag,
Is putrefying,
Is turning me to wax.

Keep your angry god at home,

My God is made of bronze and 700 year old trees.

2-Waiting Is A Fable.
Be patient,
Things will get better,
I'll sort myself out she says,
Angle grind and mother tongue,
New shoelaces,
Hunger and thirst.

Waiting is a fable for the weak willed tiny man,

Taking is the only way,
By force,
And spilling blood.
27/08/10
1-Scabs.
Gay skin head ABC,
Priest proven guilty,
White streak hair tie bunny rabbit shin dig.

The tape runs round and round till it doesn't sound right,
He's a munted little bigot got a bald head like a blunt rock bowl you over.

The words are weaving bear skins from a million picked off scabs.

2-Envelopes.
He's a meat man,
Broad shoulders that tear all his shirts,
Erectile dysfunction like the blockage in his gray mud lump,
Stone dog hounding dusty eyes,
The people he loves he tears open like envelopes.
28/08/10
1-Train Cars Tumbling.
Dry wit will destroyer,
Golden boy and girl are turning gray edged stone,
Are infinitesimally small and transient,
Cigarette butts with faces,
Train cars tumbling down the side of a mountain.

2-59%
59% complete,
Mostly honest,
Part time division,
Full time addition,
Subtracters and folding dogs,
The government will be done with him,
She says that she's insane.

Gold pigs and dirty shacks,

A bottle of whatever's cheap and highly alcoholic.
29/08/10
1-Llama.
So glad I'm not a llama with those upper cut teeth,
Want to take out the competition,
Kick to the head if you try it on me.

He's used to it to see,

To the back and the side,
Like a trained fighter,
Self defence,
The fittest and the best.

2-Alphabets.
She has no idea the drawing in,
The reel to reel will start a dusty fire,
Classroom pets and fire crackers.

Teacher tell me alphabets that speak some other way,

Teacher bloody teach me in me the gruelling grunting dark,
The pig dark of an empty Monday night.
30/08/10
1-Bit Chip Destructor.
The unceasing sound of a message tone bit chip destructor,
Large unholy rusted claw wheel monster,
It will find you in your bed,
A swallowed phone,
And tear your guts and wrists,
And call you Thursday.

2-Medicine.
Personality flow is significant,
She will not allow your river to flood the kitchen,
Hence the dinner goes cold and the dishes are stale,
And the dry Weetbix floor tastes like medicine.

There turns the wheel of misfortune,

Make it stop on the red,
Cause of death,
Asphyxiation.
31/08/10
1-Holy Holy Holy Hill.
No sufficient warnings on the box,
Even doodle jump tells you to back off once in a while,
Ever quest haven,
I married a mole man.

Submit to the father and burn no more crosses,

Imprisoned for arson,
Exploding a church,
The people lurch out set on fire and screaming,
Holy holy holy hill,
Skulls and bones and toothpaste.

2-Short Term Disability.

Fake smile beleaguered,
Belongs to a toad man in red pants and goggles,
They could never quite kill her off,
All mystery and Pinocchio drift,
Long nasal passage to short term disability.
OUTRODUCTION

Thanks for your time, and again, if you want to subscribe, email me
at clo5dimly@[Link] and let me know. Also, feel free to pass
copies of this to anyone you think might like to read it.
Direct any comments or questions to that same email address and
let me know if it's OK to publish/answer them on a letters page,
and I'll do that in the next issue.

Thanks again,

Corey Biscoe-Marwick.