mass hysteria
mass dilemma

let the unacceptable accumiltate
in his own asylum

nervous nerves unerving
a neverending nirvana

he stuck a stoke with
a single stroke
told himself it was the last straw

and experienced a calm calamity
clamped from within

a penny for your thoughts
through the journey of your conned epilogues

leave a wet smooch
onto a decaying face

say those 3 magic words
that is actually the root to
false hopes and cheap thrills

still foolishly clinging on to empty words
sweet nothings
honeyed cyanide pills
a neverending bitter aftertaste
from a once flavourful candy
an intricate web of deceit
spun by a beautiful butterfly


blaming oneself.
"my Fault".
"i'm to blame".
does it help?
No.
its just phrases.
that form sentences.
nothing more.
she's now happy with her life.
"finally its over!!"
"experiment successful!"
whole heartedly spinning a web of love for a person.
the past?
wave of her hand and a chuckle
"hah, i'll get over it".
kudos to you.

An issue of the now defunct BigO mag. printed in 1993. Features the legendary LionCity Hardcore crew.



A national treasure.



One of the pioneering bands of the local scene. Stompin' Ground.

A toy.
General use?
To be played with.
But what happens if its broken?
Simple.
Just dump it.
get rid of it.
its useless.
its stupid playing with a broken toy.
might as well throw it away.
But...
What if you got sick of playing with the same fucken toy?
Over and over again?
A simple question.
A simple Answer.
Just dump it.
Chuck it away.
Let it collect dust.
Get rid of it.
And get a new one.