C T F B

AT RAIN EET RAIN

ISSUE NINE - SEPTEMBER 2010

Written and illustrated by Corey Biscoe-Marwick

INTRODUCTION
Hello again,
as promised, with this issue you get a song. The noise art in the
song was supplied by my good buddy Malcolm Innes and I did
the crackly English guy voice and the music. I said I'd add a
bonus storyboard book too but I've decided against that, I'll
send it out in a couple of months when the video made it for is
all done.

I'll give my usual pre-warning about how I don't think I'm

particularly great with the writing or the drawing but I put it all
out here for you anyway because I'm some kind of idiot. I had a
chat with a guy about artists once and he'd come to the
conclusion that artists can be really badly crushed by criticism
yet they're driven to seek it out for some reason, or at least to
seek some kind of feedback, good or bad. It's a strange thing.
He thought maybe true artists were people who didn't really
care what people thought and didn't even share what they
made, I think he's probably right, there's gotta' be a few
incredibly talented hermits out there, surely.

Hope you're all well anyway. Have a good October.

P.S-Let me give you that warning again, this issue especially,

I've been a very tired man. Also, I apologise for the minor
swearing, being tired limits my vocabulary. I'll try to do better
next month.

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: [email protected] and let me know. I
can also send through back issues.

c Corey Biscoe-Marwick 2010, all rights reserved.

01/09/10
1-The Bee Mafia.
You swagger like the bees knees,
Ignoring the fact that your knee caps were shot out by the bee mafia,
And your swagger is more of a lying down on the floor,

You pretend like every word you say is pure and golden innocence,
When really we can see the brown lines flowing down your chin,
And you don't know how to use a toilet brush.

False evidence provided,

More than enough reason,
Confused and contused and defining each moment with an extracurricular kiss,
Soft bubbly beverages that slide down like kids in giant green tubes,
Splash in the acid and scream for delight 'cause they're friggin'insane.

2-Decemberclaus.
Sometimes surrender is a whole lot easier,
One drowned bird in a bag of wet socks and the steam from the fire place roars
like December,

"Ho Ho Ho" says Decemberclaus,

Flying overhead in a bright red gunship,
Sky whale devours him,
Children cry out as it's blubber is spread 'cross the sky by a C4 explosion,
And Clause gunning after their homes and possessions.
02/09/10
1-The Killer Love.
You're looking at number one,
Bed time wake me up visions of his hallowed halls all gold gelding and bronze
footprints,

Thine holy father commands you,

Burn your rabbits feet,
Your holy days,
And all your dearly beloved,
They are hollow beaten down wrecks compared to the killer love.

2-Holidays.
The days are packed like cases stuffed for holidays,
There's a leak in your tyres,
A split in the valve taking blood from your brain to the outside world,
Upon which you would normally spill all the love that you have,
But it's leaking inside you like a bust gut,
Concrete pylon,
Hiding in sand.

Her recount was insatiably sad,

It fled like birds from small children,
And tears swept the captains in all their long boats,
To the rocky shores of half way round the world.
03/09/10
1-Silver Horse Cowboy Madness.
Illness rides fine silver horses,
Almost invisible they're so thin,
Their lines draw down a blind horizon,
Cowboys fall like plague ridden rats,
Infesting the water they fall in.

Ill minds conceive floating turd boats to sail intrepid waters,

Foster children wreak of indifference,
This country's future is not at all assured.

2-The Faint Smell Of Dirt.

Daisy chain bear trap,
Hallelujah sequins on a man dress thin,
He's wearing black,
Will pause frequently to alarm total strangers,
She will send them to you for their measures and weights,
The faint smell of dirt trailing after.
04/09/10
1-Demon Beans.
Deep seeded doubt will sprout a stalk and demon beans,
A witch will pick to boil in a stew so thick and oily wrung out like a drowning dove,
That slides down in you horribly,
Is ugly gut rot brown.

Your face will slide off like maggots from a lettuce leaf,
And stretch across the floor,
A brand new rug.

2-Piano Accordion.
Flawlessness,
Perfect tone and pitch,
The winding string,
A silver kite,
Collapsible lung papers,
Portable worries.

Stamp and stamp again to cross the border,

Leave your horses tied to Hungarian band stand,
Accapella,
Piano accordion.
05/09/10
1-Bark Your Evil Orders.
I give a short answer,
I forgive and am bearing your cross,
He will sigh a hundred years out of the squinty lips that extrude from the fist of
his face,
While you entice me to jump from a cliff,
So you can inherit my fortune.

Don't bark your evil orders and expect me to like it.

2-Drink To Join Us.

Your boys spend a day with me painting in sun,
Covered in paint and grass,
One has a long smile that tips up the moon,
The other works hard and meticulous,
Like he's making a watch.

We are one,
You shouldn't need a drink to join us.
06/09/10
1-Shit.
I kind've feel like shit,
Like trodden on someone didn't follow the rules and pick up after their dog shit
that sits in the middle with a shoe print ditch,
And people have a little laugh.

Someone's walking around out there with my smell on their boot.

2-A Use For The Useless.

You're an odd man,
Place a can on your head with a slot,
Ribbon tied and dance poverty well,
And there just might be a use for you yet.
07/09/10
1-Pig Skins.
She knows maths without numbers,
And is the billionaire lifeline,
Husband and child beaming light house commitment,
Protecting her from rocky shores and mutiny in the dark.

This is an abandoned house of God,

Where lie the slain by long clawed evil animals,
And serpents poison tongues.

She will rescue them all,

I will be away and sailing pig skins starched to rubber hard with kittens in their
boughs.

2-Satan's Filthy Underpants.

Do dare the rotten vegetable man to fling himself at strangers,
His celery string hair with orange ends that smell like penicillin,
Or the greener parts of death,
Will all fall out,
Will stain your steel caps lines of white and make a stench much worse than when
attached.

Do dare the rotten vegetable man to shake the hands of strangers,

And leave them with a gift of mouldy carrot fingers,
And some indescribable slime that smells like satan's filthy underpants.
08/09/10
1-A Lie In Progress.
So stand in your solid shoes and walk around the yard and scream,
The neighbours never let you sleep,
So early in the morning make it,
Louder than a banshee bursting out from underneath.

I saw no indications of a lie in progress,

No scratches round the lock,
No blood over the door.

2-The Meter Man.

Someone else to banter at,
A slimy streak of unbeknownst to me and known to everybody else,
Inviting friends and relatives to laugh and break the gage.

The meter man treads heavy like a sack of rotten fish.

09/09/10
1-Hurt & Bloody Mess.
You laugh happy while I be sad,
And temper every page with an s,a,d.

You be the volume decreasing while I crank it up,

My cog driven war machine,
And hate you like I mean it,
And shit like you shat,
With hurt and bloody mess.

2-Cuts A Hundred Climbers.

Sitting still in a running room,
Volcanic outburst,
Face redrawn by child clown fingerless gloves,
Floating in the air,
Dry erased and pushed into a wall of ice.

Hold me with your well intentioned arms,

Razor wire ignorance that cuts a hundred climbers.
10/09/10
1-Match.
Satanism kicks you in the teeth,
When churchies ride electric camels you are no longer safe,
The eagle is lopsided but nevertheless a powerful mofo,
And will swoop from on high to upside the head you with the love of mighty
Jesus,
Who is not a well meaning but powerless hippy,
No,
He is a can of petrol and a match.

2-Because Of Me.
Split second love,
A face for swimming,
Large and devil sinking eyes.

To renegotiate,
The treacherous and fear ridden path,
My rag of devotion,
Your damp cloth of forgiveness.

He is brow wiping with the back of his nasty hand,

And does not apologize,
He is your sunken city,
Your moment of truth,
I am your drag along nightmare of pain,
You are a joke with no punch line.
11/09/10
1-Smudge The Driveway.
Flying rage,
Flap your wings like a rain soaked paper bird will smudge the driveway.

He takes precise measurements with his left eye,

It is mechanical,
It clicks like a rusty cog.

We still have to cut you open,

We can't see your insides without these friggin' scissors.

2-No Harm.
Build me weatherproof,
And stern as an old man steeped in little shits who scream the classroom paint off
the walls.

In the olden days we'd crack the whip,

Demean,
Demolish,
The older man will day it didn't do him any harm,
But he's hard as old boots in a pile over draws full of gold teeth and jewellery.
12/09/10
1-Fix It On Sunday.
You're a mangled mango man in a pooh scraped esky,
Whisked away by alcoholic beverages,
Your woman stunts your growth,
Your children hate you,
They say you're some kind of unparalleled bastard.

Storms of life roll boats upside down,

And painters tied to masts can see the world is made of water.

2-Laugh Like Soiled Pants.

Don't fund terrorist groups,
Don't support the maladjusted,
Don't subscribe to Q Magazine,
Don't wear yellow socks,
Don't paint houses,
Don't stake your claim too early,
Don't stake your claim at all,
Don't make your bed too late,

(The Friday man eats candle wax and loves the little ponies).

Do the doo-wop,
Run the beaches red,
Do the hand shake buzzer shake,
Sing like a pull string manic depressive,
We don't kill children,
We keep them alive.
13/09/10
1-Concrete Ships.
It's all fill,
Every song in the world that rotates on a circle is filler on a chop-less china plate,
All you have is vegetables and weistershire sauce.

The man with broken hands who plays the keyboard with his tongue,
Who knows the monkees suck it up their butts,
His chip tune drift is holy hallelujah,
He sinks like concrete ships that smell like petrol.

2-Every Human Maggot.

Tourism has boomed in our oil soaked town,
As every human maggot on the face just wants to see it for themselves,
And every English parkland bears a sign proclaiming dinosaurs were there,
And mammoths spitting bullet ice,
And playing in the band.
14/09/10
1-Franken-eyes.
It'd take a lot of mice to get me up on this table,
A flood,
Or only one but really really big,
Diseases don't concern me when they live on tiny creatures,

And he shakes his little polka dot head with black bead Franken-eyes and downs
another.

2-The Crowd Cuts You Down Like An Ugly Tree.

Rapid decay sets in morbid delay pedal,
PDF mail out,
Stage fear,
Frightening mangy beard that looks like an animal clung to his face,
A rabid sloth may not pose any threat,
But it still looks kinda' scary.
15/09/10
1-Approach The Stands & Below.
Great men are sawn in half,
Chainsaw hands approach the stands and bellow at the judge,
Random access memory,
Giant bleeding number hounds with gaping wounds that sing like little fish.

Gurgle your days down,

Mouth wash and toothpaste.

2-Missing His Wookie.

What three hours did to five days,
Stacking blocks like a tiny man,
Who blu-tacs together his castle of cards,
And groans like a star wars fan,
Missing his wookie.
16/09/10
1-Tell The Christian Man You Wear Pink Socks.
I am an ugly duck stitched from pieces of others,
Brown ducks,
Red ducks,
Yellow and dead ducks are all in the heart of me,
Lurching and purging themselves of redemption.

We claim no responsibility for the damage you render on our behalves,

We are all ex-animals,
No longer liable,
The wooden stand and feather bible will implode as we take our oath.

2-Tiny Slaves.
Leather residentials,
Hoping to match the curvature of the earth,
With a wide birth around the sun smiling dim little pigeon smiles and balking at
the lack of spontaneity,

One man's promise is another man's blatant lie.

She pokes him in the eye with the blunt side facing in,
And makes a joke about Father Christmas and his tiny little slaves.
17/09/10
1-Peach Pips.
Peach pips will dismount a motorcycle man,
In your healthily mischievous deviant path as a child he will tread giant mud
prints.

Freedom from obliviousness,

The secret charts and numbers,
Follow along on your iron dog,
Wired like a robot surgeon.

2-Head Hole.
Like a dog tied down,
Head hole in an iron cast,
Tongue taped down and a half pipe spilling the contents of its anxiety into a giant
swimming pool for disobedient children.

They will receive their allocated diseases,

At no extra charge.
18/09/10
1-Yellow Teeth.
Obnoxious gasses,
The whisper quips of bacon breath on lazy slow cooked Sunday spit,

It smells like British yellow teeth on television,

Complaining to eternal mothers,
Put me back inside you.

2-Every Single Act.

A man with no friends has no need to make promises,
Less need to keep them,
Fewer eggs to boil,

He can eat all the pancakes he makes,

And never has to listen to another human being making shitty little mutilating
commentary on every single act.
19/09/10
1-Pig In A Ditch.
There'll never be 99 months in a year,
No higher than 13,
Even in a decimal system,
Pacing and pacing the shit flickers floor with a million and one,
Like some stun gunners buddy on steroids in prison,
Pretending he axe faced a queen.

Time is short Lord help us,

And fat people have even less.

2-All The Details.

Sun stunned,
The whole cold round-about is spin kicking your face,
He is an oven glove with padded belly,
He can't read numbers so he listens for a clue and calls it genius,

"I know the details mock the man with no idea,

So I know all the details I can possibly contain".
20/09/10
1-Safely Safe.
Stay dry,
Stay alive in a car that won't run,
Listening to a radio that isn't playing,
Looking at birds that aren't there because you're sat in a closed garage staring at
a light bulb,
Dangling like sunshine,
Bright as the day you were outside that time,
And hesitated,
And came back in.

2-Echo In The Brain Of God.

I'll stay right down,
Pluck strings made of old man's white rusty hair and blow holes in the squealing
whale that blocks the hall.

There's an echo in the brain of God,

It sounds like people begging for their lives.
21/09/10
1-So Much Longer.
False teeth in a plasticine castle,
Fairies dance like fire bombs are breaking stitches open in the aching sides of
Satan.

He is flailing like a drowning duck,

The fishes wish their lives were so much longer.

2-Death As Mickey Mouse.

Buzz saw blade face,
Heads clash bleed fast rain lines blinding,
Eyes are soggy gasping fish on sandy banks and wooden planks,
A child believes he taught that fish to swim its belly up and tiny maggots,
A child believes in death as Mickey mouse in yellow pants.
22/09/10
1-Omni-present Frozen Chips.
Standard strains,
Like glue is foaming out of you,
Gluey hands and sticky eye full,
Someone fairly feint is walking backwards in the door.

You smell like frozen chips in chip shop back rooms,

Slowly changing grey to omni-present.

2-My Regrets For Your Regrets For Anytime He Sees A Truck Go By.
Small children will pull your skin off,
Anywhere a gap could be there will be one,
And you will be torn open if they die.
23/09/10
1-Bald Eagle Landing.
I can see you fly your lunatic run,
Like a head detached and shrunk and being battered by a pinball machine,
Headaches are inevitable,
Chair legs are frequently chewed off.

The staggering truth is that;

No holding hands,
No kissing goodbye,
No hugs and love,
A bald eagle landing on a grassy field,
Has taken your intelligence to lunch.

2-Honorably Tragic.
It was easy to hate America,
Until somebody showed up with words that exploded,
And video tape,
And some kind of fuel they found only in heaven.

Still they talk the maggot talk and dump their high ideals on us,
Like love and truth,
Perfection,
Steel string guitars and holy communion,
Still they refuse to play cricket.

But we love them again,

For being so honourably tragic.
24/09/10
1-Dad Man.
My small children swear by me like I was almighty God,
And I am far away from him,
So far as to be almost not a speck,
But for the props I get from them,
The pride,
The alter ego.

They are volumes of knowledge and wisdom,

They are volunteer astronauts,
Manning the kiosk at the club house on the Mars.

2-Breathing Apparatus.
The few will be the many,
Will be the bright star elevation station banking to the right around some other
tired planet all alone,
To beam a light of grace and waste no more,
To make the flowers time lapse in real time to large and open.

God is in his heaven,

And also in our hell,
With breathing apparatus for us all.
25/09/10
1-Holes In 'Em Tiger.
Five more days soldier,
Give your granny a goodbye kiss and tell Chimpy he's gotta be a man,
The sun won't ever set again for you.

Put holes in 'em tiger,

Let 'em know who's friggin' boss.

2-Sad Face Swallowed.

There's a mess in the box head,
Plays tuneless desires like hawk's talons scraping a chalkboard while jars full of
dead mice are smashed open on concrete floors,
Ensure your ears are blunt and sad face swallowed,
Exits are here, here,
And here.
26/09/10
1-Gatorade.
Words are like little verminous pus bags in a doctors bottom drawer,
He pulls them out after surgery and makes a mess so that when a patient wakes
up they believe he's been hard at work instead of reading the paper.

He's been reading the paper,

That stone he removed and put in a jar of orange fluid is a rock from the car park
swimming in Gatorade.

2-Put Your Faith In Capital Letters.

Capital letters swing easy,
They have personal assistants and are always at the beginning,
Put your faith in capital letters,
They won't ever let you down.
27/09/10
1-God Is Not Laughing.
That feeling like the dead are watching,
Like you are them,
Warning yourself to be diligent,
With an unfocussed gaze and the smell of rotten flesh,
One stretches out beneath the bed and coughs all night his thick and darkened
blood into a puddle that dries hard and black,
And sucks you into the earth when you step out.

That feeling is as real as any other,

For God comes near with clouds,
And is not laughing.

2-Men Who Don't Bite.

Few more minutes rest then back to be the best and greatest,
Golden child on a white feather highway with unicorn horns double digits and
fold back desires that pump on the gas like it's good to be suddenly gone,
And to take as many with you as you can,
Drunk animals and dressed up desperate ladies seeking men who don't bite,
Or at least not too often,
Or at least not too hard.
28/09/10
1-Far Less Obvious.
Guilt is all-powerful,
But it is not your God,
Suffering self inflicted is very near to godliness,
But it is not the way to heaven,

The way to heaven is far less obvious.

2-Not Pink.
Time in reverse is all laughs and no pain,
If a man to a child becomes,
Pouring his glass out,
Out glass his pouring.

Water is watery,
Pigs are not pink.
29/09/10
1-Second Hand Porn.
You don't know a single step,
And dance like lunatics,
And sing their lunatic songs like a full blown rioteer,
Swearing your allegiance to any flag on offer,
The putrid smell of second hand porn.

2-Like They Were Naked.

These are toys for tiny kids with fingers laugh like snakes on holiday,
Still the little droning axe and mangulated pigeon toes,
Forefinger and thumb,
He's looking in her filthy cheap shot eyes like they were naked.
30/09/10
1-Quiet and Content.
Don't pay me shit do they,
For barking up trees,
Don't measure my worth with the yard stick and coin toss,
They put me to the grinder knuckles in and push a dogs face in my accident.

Learn from other people,

Not from yourself.

2-Mini Disc.
Dozing off in an underpass,
Like the old man from A Clockwork Orange,
Eyes half open,
Paper bag,
He's waiting for some unforeseen adventure like near death,
But has to wait another couple years,
until the mini disc takes hold.
OUTRODUCTION

Thanks for your time, and again, if you want to subscribe, email me
at [email protected] 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.