Detonation Rows


As cold steel fingers cease the reaping of the pitiful sows
a new class of heads are banged together like balls on detonation row
new questions grew from a town view that few wanted to see
yet it often pleased and comforted me
see a new suspended vision exuding a rare power
after years of numbed technical ecstasy
I want to see, feel and move
like the exponential growth of a rare full blooming flower
In this frame living is the fullest
and all the honey and the grime I can roll in
keep pumping my heart, mind, soul and body
on all fours: the sacred four burning
a blinding wipe out


By Nicholas Peart

3rd May 2020

(c)All Rights Reserved


Image: Anselm Kiefer The Orders of the Night (Die Orden der Nacht) (1996)

The Universal Tide


The universal tide: jacked on the cross
tainted down to the tow: forgotten seat dread
Everything I said was captured and fed
at the dust down
at the dusk: hold and go
As the airport got tight
and the blue/gray mutilated stratus sky was out of sight
I should’ve sown what I saw in a less than plain view
forming a white view board from which this can grow
from where the crows lowly glide;
are they looking for a home?
or are they out-reaped and looking low?
For a chill second I can beat;
the ships like broken bread
malted dread to level all those distorted hollow sounds

I wanted to delve and I wanted to feel
Of all the reeling
as it sapped all and everything
out the back mind ground to level dust
On a devil-cut mirror stretched to rage
In my cage I can’t be the fullest entity in another dimension
I need that place where the grip is soft
I need to be there where a coin toss determines nothing
The rotations last for as long as one can forsake
crystal glints of mirages more fleeting than rainbows
As gravity classifies and resists
all underwater sub-machine gun fires: a storm in a shot glass
this transpires to nullify all lost to random heavens
Low grade leanings; creased and worn
from a battle long forgotten
For victories returned to crust micro living
broken reeds: posed feel
no halos or smoking guns
grabbed tight, fast and blown

The dice repeats; one rinse and an algorithmic key
hoping for some secret chord beyond the promised land
Don’t go. Never. No
All fires flipped to the charred thunder
all lovers dipped into pools reserved for the afterlife
awakened callings; more bangs, less whimpers
the shown degree to what they say
put aside and boxed for another day
The seeds lost count and I am losing my sleep
Too hard to take the heat
with the fear level breaking the needle on the dial
as rocks turn to magma and the magma now an engulfing cloud
with no destination only suffocation
until I wake up and a new blue day awaits

Mothballed liver found fault
on the creases in his face
as he slanted to a crooked place
the gaze mutated to a duller shade of pink
and the stagnant wine retreated in an alchemic blink
a nation torn down
an abandoned and unedifying sink to leave no trace
let us all pray

No lines crossed
All spots and sparks; around an arc
marked full and hard
like the tyrant string pullers of fragile lights
soon brushed off crumb by crumb
to bring lanes to the next beams
I see the cheers
I keep walking
not letting go of the veil
all else is of no control
splinters in another wave


By Nicholas Peart

Published on May 2nd 2020

(c)All Rights Reserved

Image: Caravaggio – The Incredulity of Saint Thomas

Kings Out Of The Smallest Ants


A thought for which I fought

in marble blood-stained lands

A bridge united all these forgotten fragments

Once dead in stagnant Earth liquid;

the white light blinds our eyes

and makes kings out of the smallest ants


by Nicholas Peart

Written: 22nd January 2014

(c)All Rights Reserved 


The Effortless Beat


A faded glow pricks the plankton
most agitated from decades dishevelled
at the micro level too close to the picture
then yes it is a rut not softening the blow
where I am never protected from what I want
and where silent subtle beauty is forever elusive
and joy only permeates once the controls are discarded
then the muted band of life breaks free

Moments are the sacred secret chords
like temporary cloud formations
they ring in a key
before the new pitch saves the day
and old spheres make way for other tones
in all their elegance, discord and limitations
a splattered banquet with no way of knowing
questions and answers are mere confusion

The astral warp is also a puppet
we will never see who pulls the strings
if you search you will not be in rhythm
to the harmony beyond your self imposed prison
the leaves on the trees don’t inquire
they only be; not chasing the next best thing
and when they see those restless rainbow seekers
they laugh so hard the ground beneath them smiles


By Nicholas Peart

Written 27th October 2018

(c)All Rights Reserved


Image: Arcaion

Fragile Plates

Giorgio di Chiricho

Down the fifty drawn vacuum pipes
His last run was timed out
It made him drown up the sacred crown
Longing for glory again
Nothing got swayed – nothing of note
Tired of the decrepit drone ballads
He took a trip lying down in an oval-shaped plain
In the next life it would be a sapphire bowl
Of purple fruit low hanging in cryptic labyrinths
The gutter bites
The knife and then the swipes
Locked doors and slashed faces
Ships re-built in bombed out yards
The grain now the high gain
The shooting crafts on mercy street
The brawls of crimson faded grey
Distraught lovers laugh
Even though it is no game
Crazy hearse-chamber minds
Sabotaging time
Like a miner dealt the worst hand
His next mission is to kill now the thrill is botched
Until the lever breaks
And all kings, paupers, astronauts and pitchforks
Are strewn on a level field of play


By Nicholas Peart

Written on 2nd May 2018

(c)All Rights Reserved 


Image: Painting by Giorgio de Chirico


Natural Blues (A Reassessment)


reeds scraping gristle

sound of thick pillar refinement

synergy going dilapidated

mattress excitement in

a formation

(ethereal ring)


all sacred buds and dominant postures

to wrangle the rise of suit equipment

barge jumping off a wooden bridge

high jump mental insanity

peacock suit of twisted…

revitalising exhaust turbine

polluted with low pick ups

and the same ricocheting chords

the lads chorus follows shortly

and stadium bang

white dwarf collapse of plan B

open protective fusion

two reptilian eyes

bloodstream corrupt

now falling

soil and poison


evil stench and dead sun

(sub human electricity)

grind hurl TV rock star abuse

on a motorcycle doing 180

distinction in the shape

of the level the sound and the person

and now we hark back to Earls Court 75

and the high fat content

at the expense of the dole originators

bow down Charlie Patton and Son House

(with Blind Lemon in the ante room)

humble cotton field afterglow

the stadium was non existent

and they knew

Sonny Boy knew

Honeyboy Edwards knew

and the bliss of a Kronenberg and snuff

after the pioneering devil enigma

white hot


a nihilist at Three Folks

beats a nihilist at Knebworth



By Nicholas Peart

Taken from the poetry collection; ‘In Arctic Measure (Poems 2004-7)’

©All Rights Reserved

Image: Angular Visions (2015) by Nicholas Peart





I wrote this rap back in June this year at a cafe somewhere in Amsterdam. At the time there was a lot of renewed interest in cryptocurrencies and prices were beginning to spiral out of control (and continue to this very day with Bitcoin having just reached an all time new high of over $10,000!!). Below is my rap inspired by all things crypto…


I bought a bunch of Bitcoin
at da top of da tree
But my boy Daryl bought
when it was almost free
Coz Daryl got da skills
He know when to make da kill
I am a Johnny come lately
Always beggin outside Macy’s
All I wanna do is make it
I accidentally always fake it
Me n Maceo always look
To Daryl D da crook
Tappin all that homie knows
Thinkin bro it’s gonna blow

A world of insania
Extendin to Asia
And all da pain in ya
When da prices go up!!!

Then one day da bubble burst
I’m thinkin yo I got it the worst
I bought all the way at da top
Got one hell of a mess to mop
Now I am slammin on doors
N clutching at straws
Rappin to all n sundry
Hustling like a real numpty
When I tell em the price I bought
They reply I am a chump worth naught
Now I am diggin through all my thoughts
Asking; What have you every caught?
Any gold any silver?
Or fools rock n fake guilders?

A world of insania
Extendin to Asia
And all da pain in ya
When da prices go up!!!


By Nicholas Peart (AKA N P-ART)

Written in June 2017

©All Rights Reserved

Only You


The uni-vow
no sacred hill needed
no prominent monument
only you
and the you inside of you
the message stays the same
and the sharp neon points remain to be found
all a quest but seldom in vein
by the end fame and glory are of no hold
the process and the filth and the fire and the heat;
are the gains of wild imagination
the friendly ghosts and faithful angles of truth and beauty
of song and dance
measures and corners shot
the limit snapped
tall tree sanctuaries
tall tellers
smoothing the way from blue
polishing the dirt
making a full body and gem of you


by Nicholas Peart

24th January 2016

(All rights reserved)


Image: Electric Blue (after Dan Favin) (2013) by Nicholas Peart

Funeral Pyres Of Fantastic Disguise


Through different glass slides of my existence
bailout blackout days
in hand with garden delights
or is it my mind that sets the controls?

We instinctively and without thinking and awareness
say something is good or bad
delicious or rotten
beautiful or ugly
a gas or unbearable
but is this all in our minds?

Holy dove prayers
shut books and creased faces
kicked boxes with emotion wires
multi foliate metropolises
growth mistaken for regression
hollow fame and smokey dreams
psychedelic views colour the air

All the more inside
it had cherished it’s time
where ‘no’ is the elusive ring
and hard wheat with strand strength
smashed the platinum gates.
The doors wretched…
unclear love in translucent light
cheap happiness in false time
higher planets turn and abandon cries
from ages left behind
the strong bounce of new horizons
future creatures bent on banishment than beauty
the higher stairs stand strong
all cravings pulse then whimper
small blossoms of victory for all
familiar shadows of humble high connection matter
stewed flights of envied fancy;
nothing but a fool’s pool
a come-down calling;
clunked in over-observed glitter dust
the light trick the eternal life trick
reality a mundane non stop silence
most noise an illusion and loss temptation
a distraction from un-heeded space;
the stage when the body and mind never felt so free
and this a freedom so simple to acquire
the complex low-conscious wading an unnecessary test
I hope someday the next level comes to you

Electric calm
a yield never coasting
an overflowing love
a fume box
clean seeds of future worlds
in a wonder-belt wall
old sound in stupored city squares
the glows crush down and morph
to funeral pyres of fantastic disguise


by Nicholas Peart

1st February 2016

©All rights reserved


Image: The Garden Of Earthly Delights (1495-1505) by Hieronymous Bosch